As a future social worker, my passion in life is to help others, especially those whose voices are marginalized and ignored by society. Children are often overlooked, underserved, and unable to advocate for themselves which leaves them vulnerable to exploitative and abusive situations. Childhood is an incredibly important time of development, and the safety and comfort of children should be protected at all costs. Throughout my life, I have worked tirelessly to address the trauma and pain from my own upbringing to improve my mental health. I believe unequivocally that all adults are impacted by their experiences growing up, and in order to begin healing a person has to address the past. While my interests getting my MSW centered on becoming a therapist, I become invested in protecting children when I realized I could make a difference at the source. I am passionate about caring for children, and I want to use my MSW degree to help navigate the system for those who can't advocate for themselves. Handling the best interests of children is an incredibly challenging and nuanced issue that requires empathy, compassion, patience, and perseverance. I need to have and cultivate these qualities to be able to best serve the needs of children, especially those who have undergone traumatic events. As a survivor myself, I understand the nuances of emotion, pain, fear, and confusion that accompanies experiencing abuse. If I had been able to have an adult, an advocate on my side during that period in my life I would be felt much safer. I would have been more excited for the future and prepared for important educational and social milestones. While I am grateful to the work I have done in my own journey of healing, I have never forgotten that feeling of helplessness and loneliness that followed me years after. In terms of addressing childhood abuse, therapy as an adult is essential but so is intervening at the moment or if possible before the abuse occurs. Early intervention is also critical for stopping the cycle of abuse that can occur as children develop and attempt to understand the pain they experienced by inflicting it on others. Stopping harm for one person is essential for stopping future intergenerational trauma. I see addressing childhood abuse as the seed of pain that can touch the lives of so many others. If instead that seed was a joyful childhood, the ripples outward would be positive rather than detrimental. I will forever be grateful to the people in my life that surrounded me with love and understanding when I finally confided in them about my experience growing up. It is my deepest wish to be that guiding light and advocate for children in the moment before the layers of shame and silence bury their voices. Hope is possible, and as a social worker I will make sure that my efforts will bring that to others.

Harm is like a stone that has been thrown into a pond. The initial splash quickly dissipates, the sound is soon muffled as the stone sinks beneath the water, and the surface obscures any changes that lie beneath its surface. However, hundreds of ripples emanate from the epicenter, quiet, persistent, crashing into each other to form new nebulous patterns. Life lessons often come after the initial splash, when they ripple into everyday life sometimes years later to inspire a new way of thinking or seeing the world. The moment the stone broke the surface of my life was when my sister was arrested for heroin use in her dorm room at college. She was removed from campus, when through the criminal system, and eventually had to go to rehab for the next two years. At the time, I was a sophomore in high school, and the most challenging aspects of my life were those typical of a teenage girl. I didn't know how to support my sister who didn't know how to support herself. I didn't know how to console my parents. I didn't know how to ask for help for myself. I spread myself thin, hiding my sister's illness, her dropping out, and dodged questions like "what is she studying?" or "does she want to do anything in particular for her career?". For most of the year, I didn't know where my sister was, let alone what kind of subjects interested her or what she wanted to do for a job. I felt helpless, like the burden of my family's reputation rested on my shoulders dependent on my silence and stoic appearance. Eventually, I began to develop a deep compassion for my sister and her substance use struggles. I became committed to understanding her needs, and I visited her as often as I could at her different rehabs. I wanted to be as supportive and understanding as possible. I wanted to be the perfect ally and protect her from the judgement of the world, the same judgement I had felt at one point in time. She worked hard at recovery, and I worked hard at being there for her. Now she is doing much better, and the moral of the story could end with a happy ribbon about the joys of sisterhood. However, it doesn't because the ripples from her addiction would collide within me for years to come. I never fully let myself feel anger. It seemed to be a wasted emotion, bent on being unproductive and judgmental. My sister needed support and who was I to say "no, I can't do this", or "how could you have hidden this from me?" My pain was pushed aside and forgotten, until my body couldn't forget it anymore. I began to act out, physically punishing myself anytime I made a mistake. I chased perfectionism because anything less revealed my flawed, angry character. I locked myself into a cage where I couldn't talk about the thing that had hurt me so deeply because I convinced myself I was selfish to feel this way. I reached my breaking point ironically my sophomore year of college, when I finally reached out to a therapist and told her that I wanted to discuss my family background. I thought I was okay, I thought all my feelings of betrayal were in the past until one session when I broke down and finally said the words "I am so angry". I believe that after so many years my life lesson was this: do not run from the authenticity of your own experience.

I first became interested in oncology work when I read the memoir by Rachel Naomi Remen. In her accounts of working as a physician for patients in the oncology department, I was struck by the tenuous, emotional, and empathetic approach she took to understanding the support and healing necessary for this field of work. As a future social worker working towards my MSW, I also strive to bring compassion to my practice, and I deeply value centering the human experience first and foremost in any mental health career path. I didn't seriously consider working with cancer patients until a close family friend, a young woman named Grace, was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. I watched her journey for the next several years as she navigated with her family numerous doctors appointments, drug trials, chemotherapy, radiation, and more. Her words of praise for the technicians, nurses, and social workers that she interacted with her incredibly high because of the empathetic approach they took when determining the right care for her. I was deeply inspired by her life, and will never forget playing in streams together when we were children or building fairy castles in tree hallows. After she passed, almost a year a half ago, I knew my calling within social work was providing care and assistance to patients and families within the oncology field. I want to help more people like Grace, and I want to ease some of the burden during the worst times of their lives. I will never forget her words of kindness for the staff that she worked with, and I strive to bring that same human centered compassion, passion, and dedication to the field.