I was lured into the world of psychology by observing my reactions to certain events and was curious as to how those reactions transpired. After the first year of college, when I went to Iran to take care of my aunt who was diagnosed with stage four cancer, I was dealing with my own personal challenges in terms of mental illness. I had to learn the taking of responsibility for my actions, as well as, dealing with stressful, undesirable, and unfortunate situations. That is when I decided that I would like to help others, the same way I was helped in my personal tribulations. I have always held a great fascination with the human brain, but after my personal experiences, I was voracious for more information. I started reading books on various mental illnesses, and self-development books that were focused on dealing with past experiences and trauma. It was then apparent to me that I wanted a background in psychology, because it plays an imperative role in our day-to-day interactions with others. I want to become a dermatologist. I want to establish my own private practice, work with hospitals to treat patients who are unable to afford care and create dedicated research programs for skin conditions such as neurofibromatosis and try to find a cure that can relieve patients. I believe my understanding, sympathy, and compassion for my patients could make me the doctor that I aspire to be. I want to bolster the relationships I make with my patients and for them to know that I hold no judgement to everything they are going through. The skin is the in our most primal sight when we look at ourselves and I personally fathom the self-esteem issues and insecurities that can arise from that. Also, if my patient is diagnosed with a mental illness, I would like to know how to help him/her because she/he deserves to be treated with the best care possible as well. I have prepared for this major by experiencing the feelings of isolation, and I would like to disseminate my knowledge to others. The psychology classes that I have attended have given me substantial background and shown me that it is most certainly not an easy major, but it is well worth it. Having the ability to help others is the greatest honor I would ever hope for.

My love for cinema has also been undying, because of directors such as Luis Buñuel, Ingmar Bergman, Jean-Luc Godard, Max Ophuls, Robert Bresson, and many more, who developed not only a storyline but also every facet of the film with painstaking attention to detail: every detail chosen to convey the emotion. The work of Ingmar Bergman ties in beautifully with the questioning of faith and existence. I always watch his films at least three times. The first time is to understand the storyline; the second time is to look for details; the third time is to look for details with attention to the dialogue.

At the age of 16, I decided to relieve the burden on my family by earning an income to support myself. This past year my work hours were cut short dramatically. I attempt to help my family with bill payments whenever possible. My mother, a single mom, took out loans for my sister’s education, and she will not be eligible to take out additional federal loans for my education. My father resides in Iran, and due to the sanctions and decrease in Rial’s value, will not be able to assist me in my education. Therefore, my educational costs are on my shoulders alone. My journey for obtaining higher education consisted of many deviations, and those experiences caused me to mature and understand my priorities. Ergo, after many ups and downs, and failing the entire first year of community college, I dusted off and placed all of my focus on studying, as higher education is my priority. Prior to receiving an academic renewal for those grades, to my surprise I was awarded membership to Phi Theta Kappa because I managed to raise my GPA above 3.5. My hard work has been recognized thus far, as I was placed on the honor roll for three semesters, and on the OCC president’s list for last semester. My GPA is now 3.91. I will be working as a research intern for Johns Hopkins University as part of a Humanities Collaboratory this summer. This money will go directly towards my tuition at Columbia University for this fall. I hope to become a dermatologic surgeon and a published writer.

In 2016, my father was diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia and was going through chemotherapy and radiation alone in Iran. During the summer I decided to go and stay with him for a month to nurture him, and I felt my heart being wrenched. I was always told I have my father's eyes, but I watched the light flicker away from his as his hair was falling out and his skin was drying up. I managed to find a full-time nurse for him because my return was vital for my mother. After my return, my strength had begun to wane and an abrupt need for escape took over. Drugs became my bittersweet escape from reality. Suddenly, I was superman, invincible; I only had one enemy, kryptonite, which in my case was sobriety. The following year, my addiction brought me to my knees, and the void inside me began to fester. After failing two semesters and the news of my aunt's stage four ovarian cancer diagnosis, I was at my rock bottom. I went to Iran once again to be with her. Even though the cancer continued to spread faster than she could fight it off, despite the numerous surgeries, her zest for life remained untouched. The glimmer of hope never left her eyes. Her lips may have been chapped from treatment, but her smile brightened up every room. Her pain worsened with time with no medicine to ease her pain. One day, during the few minutes that I was gone, she drifted off into a coma. The doctors expected her to hold on for five days, but the clock was not kind enough. We lost her in matter of five hours, as I was holding her hand, begging her to hold on just a little longer. My heart was ripping to shreds. It was a week before that she asked me to put makeup on her because the chemotherapy stole all her hair. The last conversation I had with her, she asked me to love myself for her sake if nothing else. As I looked up from the dark abyss of my own making, I realized I was done with allowing myself to sink even further. I built a ladder of motivation and aimed for academic excellence. Her words became the motivating force within me. However, after being in recovery for three years, my motivation is to help those who are where I used to be and to make an impact. At the time I did not know that overcoming my addiction, and making my family proud of me through my personal and educational successes would become my greatest achievement. Upon my return to the U.S. after my aunt’s passing, I sought out professional guidance and was able to better understand the rationale behind my addiction. I was given tools to better cope with stressors and past traumas. I also attended meetings to shed light upon my struggles, rather than hiding their skeletons, which would then become a monster of my destruction. During this time, as I was dealing with my own issues in terms of mental health, I chose psychology as my major, because I want to help others, the same way I was helped. I have always held a great fascination with the human brain, but after my personal experiences, it was apparent to me that I wanted a background in psychology, because it plays an imperative role in our day-to-day interactions with others. I want to become a dermatologic surgeon and establish my own private practice, work with hospitals to treat patients who are unable to afford care, and lead research in finding gene therapy for genetic conditions such as neurofibromatosis. The skin is in our most primal sight when we look at ourselves and I personally fathom the self-esteem issues and insecurities that can arise from that. Additionally, my goal in the future is to write a book to help those who have faced similar tribulations. I believe my understanding, sympathy, and compassion for my patients could make me the doctor that I aspire to be. Despite the torments of my experiences, I am now equipped to handle the rigors of the path to success.

As Persian immigrants, the move has been especially challenging for my mother, as she's lost her credentials, status she enjoyed, her marriage, family, and support system from home. My father lives in Iran, ergo the responsibilities such as paying the bills, providing documentation so their taxes could be filed, etc. has befallen on me since our move here in 2011. My mother was preoccupied in her mission to regain her credentials and was often absent due to her full-time status as a student and worker. My brother, now 11, has been my responsibility since I was 16. I began working at an early age because I was aware of the struggles as I managed our finances here. In 2016, my father was diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia and was going through chemotherapy and radiation alone in Iran. During the summer I decided to go and stay with him for a month to nurture him, and I felt my heart being wrenched. I was always told I have my father's eyes, but I watched the light flicker away from his as his hair was falling out and his skin was drying up. I managed to find a full-time nurse for him because my return was vital for my mother. After my return, my strength had begun to wane and an abrupt need for escape took over. Drugs became my bittersweet escape from reality. Suddenly, I was superman, invincible; I only had one enemy, kryptonite, which in my case was sobriety. The following year, my addiction brought me to my knees, and the void inside me began to fester. After failing two semesters and the news of my aunt's stage four ovarian cancer diagnosis, I was at my rock bottom. I went to Iran once more to be with her. Even though cancer continued to spread faster than she could fight it off, despite the numerous surgeries, her zest for life remained untouched. The glimmer of hope never left her eyes. Her lips may have been chapped from treatment, but her smile brightened up every room. Upon my return to the U.S. after my aunt’s passing, I sought out professional guidance and was able to better understand the rationale behind my addiction. I was given tools to better cope with stressors and past traumas. I also attended meetings to shed light upon my struggles, rather than hiding their skeletons, which would then become a monster of my destruction. That is when I decided that I would like to help others, the same way I was helped in my personal tribulations. I have always held a great fascination with the human brain, but after my personal experiences, I decided I wanted a background in psychology. I want to become a dermatologic surgeon, establish my own private practice, work with hospitals to treat patients who are unable to afford care, and lead research gene therapy. Despite the torments of my experiences, I am now equipped to handle the rigors of the path to success.

I was giving a speech at an abandoned church

My aunt was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer. That year, drugs had become my bittersweet escape from reality. Suddenly, I was superman, invincible; I only had one enemy, kryptonite, which in my case was sobriety. I went to Iran to take care of her. Even though the cancer continued to spread faster than she could fight it off, despite the numerous surgeries, her zest for life remained untouched. The glimmer of hope never left her eyes. Her lips may have been chapped from treatment, but her smile brightened up every room. Her pain worsened with time with no medicine to ease her pain. One day, during the few minutes that I was gone, she drifted off into a coma. The doctors expected her to hold on for five days, but the clock was not kind enough. We lost her in matter of five hours, as I was holding her hand, begging her to hold on just a little longer. My heart was ripping to shreds. It was a week before that she asked me to put makeup on her because the chemotherapy stole all her hair. The last conversation I had with her, she asked me to love myself for her sake if nothing else. As I looked up from the dark abyss of my own making, I realized I was done with allowing myself to sink even further. I built a ladder of motivation and aimed for academic excellence. Her words became the motivating force within me. I was lured into the world of psychology through my own personal challenges in terms of mental health. I decided that I would like to help others, the same way I was helped in my personal tribulations. I have always held a great fascination with the human brain, but after my personal experiences, I knew I wanted a background in psychology because it plays an imperative role in our day-to-day interactions with others. I want to become a dermatologic surgeon and establish my own private practice, work with hospitals to treat patients who are unable to afford care, and lead research in finding gene therapy for genetic conditions such as neurofibromatosis. I believe my understanding, sympathy, and compassion for my patients could make me the doctor that I aspire to be. I want to bolster the relationships I make with my patients and for them to know that I hold no judgment about everything they are going through. The skin is in our most primal sight when we look at ourselves and I personally fathom the self-esteem issues and insecurities that can arise from that. After being in recovery for three years, my motivation is to help those who are where I used to be and to make an impact. My goal in the future is to write a book to help those who are facing similar tribulations.

In the tragic year of 2016, my father was diagnosed with stage three Leukemia. He was going through chemotherapy and radiation alone in Iran. During the summer, I had to go and stay with him for a month to nurture him; I felt my heart being wrenched. I was always told I have my father's eyes, but I watched the light flicker away from his as his hair was falling out and his skin was drying up. The following summer, I went back and stayed with him for six months, to assist his healthy recovery. During my prolonged stay in Iran, I immersed myself in drawing to allow for expression of my feelings; I delve into the world of writers to escape the tragic reality for a couple of hours in a day. I joined online forums to participate in philosophical discussions, specifically regarding the existence of God. The debates within the forum fueled my love for collaboration, especially with people from varying cultures. As a result, at an early age, music and poetry became my outlet for emotional distress. Poetry was my great savior, as tears would roll off my cheek and onto the paper where I was expressing all of my thoughts; without the judgment of the paper, I felt safe to let go. Whenever I felt as if the world around me was tumbling down and I was immobile, I would dance with the words to lift up from the ashes. My poetry became the blood flowing through the veins of my soul. I have come to meet great philosophers and writers in my path. I became familiar with Nietzsche’s eternal return philosophy, which grasped me. He broke the long-romanticized idea of God as a determinator and free will. I shook hands with Albert Camus, at his mother’s funeral through his book The Stranger. He wrote simply, yet eloquently. I looked at the world through the lenses colored by his words. Even though his perception casted a dark shadow over life, due to his existentialist beliefs, it was rather freeing. After life there is only death. He raised the question, “if we’re going to die, what is the point anyways?” As dark as that perception may be to some, I realized the only purpose we must find is through ourselves. We can decide to give our lives meaning if we choose to do so. I have an undying love for cinema, because of directors such as Luis Buñuel, Ingmar Bergman, Jean-Luc Godard, and many more, who developed not only a storyline but also every facet of the film with painstaking attention to detail: every detail chosen to convey the emotion. Nothing in their works is unintentional. The works of Ingmar Bergman tie in beautifully with questioning of faith and existence. I always watch their films at least three times. The first time is to understand the story line; then is to look for details;then is to look for details with attention to the dialogue.

As Persian immigrants, the move has been especially challenging for my mother, as she's lost her credentials, the status she enjoyed, her marriage, family, and support system from home. My father lives in Iran, ergo the responsibilities such as paying the bills, providing documentation so their taxes could be filed, etc. have befallen on me since our move here in 2011. My mother was preoccupied in her mission to regain her credentials and was often absent due to her full-time status as a student and worker. My brother, now 11, has been my responsibility since I was 16. I began working at an early age because I was aware of the struggles as I managed our finances here. Even as my sister was applying for student loans, I was the one she came to in terms of advice and assistance. I have become the support system for everyone in my family, and if there is any family conflict, I am expected to take charge in ensuring the resolution. For instance, I got a call from my mother on the morning of Thanksgiving in 2019, and instantly I knew something was wrong, with her coarse voice she told me that her car had slipped in the rain and flipped. Even though I was hundreds of miles away, and my sister was only a couple of miles away, I sent over her insurance information to her, logged into Find My iPhone for her phone, and contacted 911 with the precise location. During this pandemic, my mother went to Iran, hence my brother was left alone here with me, and unfortunately, she was diagnosed with COVID-19 and was put on an oxygen mask. Regardless of my personal issues, I've had to manage my brother's education and well-being and organized my time around his schedule. Therefore, taking on such responsibilities in the family in addition to my education and work has provided me a great sense of time management and prioritization of tasks, and thus uniquely provided me with the tools and foundation to succeed in my academia, and future career as a dermatologist. In 2016, the senior year of high school, my mother was overwhelmed by her trauma and was in mental anguish. Despite all of my best efforts to ease her suffering by taking the load off of her back, she was in an abyss, leaving me with no control of her condition. My father was also diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia and was going through chemotherapy and radiation alone in Iran. During the summer I decided to go and stay with him for a month to nurture him, and I felt my heart being wrenched. I was always told I have my father's eyes, but I watched the light flicker away from his as his hair was falling out and his skin was drying up. I managed to find a full-time nurse for him because my return was vital for my mother. After my return, my strength had begun to wane and an abrupt need for escape took over. Drugs became my bittersweet escape from reality. Suddenly, I was superman, invincible; I only had one enemy, kryptonite, which in my case was sobriety. The following year, my addiction brought me to my knees, and the void inside me began to fester. After failing two semesters and the news of my aunt's stage four ovarian cancer diagnosis, I was at my rock bottom. I decided to go to Iran, to get away from my addiction, to take care of my aunt, and to find myself by breaking who I had become. Even though cancer continued to spread faster than she could fight it off, despite the numerous surgeries, her zest for life remained untouched. The glimmer of hope never left her eyes. Her lips may have been chapped from treatment, but her smile brightened up every room. Her pain worsened with time with no medicine to ease her pain. One day, during the few minutes that I was gone, she drifted off into a coma. The doctors expected her to hold on for five days, but the clock was not kind enough. We lost her in a matter of five hours, as I was holding her hand, begging her to hold on just a little longer. My heart was ripping to shreds. It was a week before that she asked me to put makeup on her because the chemotherapy stole all her hair. In the last conversation I had with her, she asked me to love myself for her sake if nothing else. As I looked up from the dark abyss of my own making, I realized I was done with allowing myself to sink even further. I built a ladder of motivation and aimed for academic excellence. Her words became the motivating force within me. Upon my return to the U.S. after my aunt’s passing, I sought out professional guidance and was able to better understand the rationale behind my addiction. I was given tools to better cope with stressors and past traumas. I also attended meetings to shed light upon my struggles, rather than hiding their skeletons, which would then become a monster of my destruction. After being in recovery for three years, my motivation is to help those who are where I used to be and to make an impact. I would like to help others, the same way I was helped in my personal tribulations. I have always held a great fascination with the human brain, but after my personal experiences, I decided that I want a background in psychology, because it plays an imperative role in our day-to-day interactions with others. I want to become a dermatologic surgeon and establish my own private practice, work with hospitals to treat patients who are unable to afford care, and lead research in finding gene therapy for genetic conditions such as neurofibromatosis. Despite the torments of my experiences, I'm now equipped to handle the rigors of the path to success.

I have faced many challenges throughout my life, but everything came to a crashing halt due to consecutive tragic events. In 2016, my senior year of high school, I found out that my parents had divorced back in 2013, only because my father's family reached out, to request that I convince him for the prospect of a new wife. I was astounded: I felt my life was devoid of any truth. In addition, he had stopped supporting my mother, and we were struggling financially. My mother was overwhelmed by her trauma and was in a mental anguish. As Persian immigrants, the move has been especially challenging for her, as she's lost her credentials, status she enjoyed, her marriage, family, and support system from home. Despite all of my best efforts to ease her suffering by taking the load off of her back, she was in an abyss, leaving me with no control of her condition. My father also was diagnosed with stage three Leukemia. He was going through chemotherapy and radiation alone in Iran. During the summer, I decided to let go of my anger towards him, to go and stay with him for a month to nurture him; I felt my heart being wrenched. I was always told I have my father's eyes, but I watched the light flicker away from his as his hair was falling out and his skin was drying up. I managed to find a full-time nurse for him because my return was vital for my mother: the responsibilities such as paying the bills, providing documentation so their taxes could be filed, etc. had befallen me since our move here in 2011. Upon my return to the U.S., my strength had begun to wane. These factors had turned into a cohesive unit that led to my need for avoiding facing life, and an abrupt need for escape took over. Problems had become ubiquitous, and I had no control over anything. My family and all I had known until that moment had fallen. I found my escape from my addiction because all of my senses were numb, and I felt invincible. The following year, my addiction brought me to my knees, and the void inside me began to fester. After failing two semesters and the news of my aunt's stage four ovarian cancer diagnosis, I was at my rock bottom, I couldn't go on the same way, because I had lost touch with myself. I decided to go to Iran, to get away from my addiction, to take care of my aunt, and to find myself by breaking who I had become. Additionally, I was lured into the world of psychology by observing my reactions to certain events and was curious as to how those reactions transpired. At the time of caring for my aunt, I was dealing with my own personal challenges in terms of mental illness. I had to learn to take responsibility for my actions, as well as, dealing with stressful, undesirable, and unfortunate situations. That is when I decided that I would like to help others, the same way I was helped in my personal tribulations. I have always held a great fascination with the human brain, but after my personal experiences, I was voracious for more information. I started reading books on various mental illnesses, and self-development books that were focused on dealing with past experiences and trauma. It was then apparent to me: I wanted a background in psychology because it plays an imperative role in our day-to-day interactions with others. As I returned to the U.S., I sought out professional guidance and was able to better understand the rationale behind my addiction. I knew I needed help, and this was the first time I drummed up the courage to seek it. I was given tools to better cope with stressors and past traumas. I also attended meetings to shed light upon my struggles, rather than hiding their skeletons, which would then become a monster of my destruction. Despite the torments of my experiences, I am now equipped to handle the rigors of the path to success. The school of General Studies at Columbia University is a perfect fit for me, because it proves the deviation in my path will not hold me back from reaching my goals, rather fuels my motivation. I want to establish my own private practice, work with hospitals to treat patients who are unable to afford care and create research programs for skin conditions such as neurofibromatosis and try to find a cure that can relieve patients. I believe my understanding, sympathy, and compassion for my patients could make me the doctor that I aspire to be. I want to bolster the relationships I make with my patients and for them to know that I hold no judgement to everything they are going through. A person's view of themselves in terms of beauty and confidence affects their lives in the goals they set for themselves, and their achievements. This is why I seek a career as a dermatologist, to help shine the light through, by removing the obstacle that causes such discomfort. The skin is the in our most primal sight when we look at ourselves and I personally fathom the self-esteem issues and insecurities that can arise from that. Also, if my patient is diagnosed with a mental illness, I would like to know how to help him/her because she/he deserves to be treated with the best care possible as well.

I have faced many challenges throughout my life, but everything came to a crashing halt due to consecutive tragic events. In my senior year of high school, my mother was overwhelmed by her trauma and was in mental anguish. Despite all of my best efforts to ease her suffering by taking the load off of her back, she was in an abyss, leaving me with no control of her condition. My father was also diagnosed with stage three Leukemia and was going through chemotherapy and radiation alone in Iran. During the summer I decided to go and stay with him for a month to nurture him, and I felt my heart being wrenched. I was always told I have my father's eyes, but I watched the light flicker away from his as his hair was falling out and his skin was drying up. I managed to find a full-time nurse for him because my return was vital for my mother. After my return, my strength had begun to wane and an abrupt need for escape took over. I found my escape from my addiction because all of my senses were numb, and I felt invincible. The following year, my addiction brought me to my knees, and the void inside me began to fester. After failing two semesters and the news of my aunt's stage four ovarian cancer diagnosis, I was at my rock bottom, I couldn't go on the same way, because I had lost touch with myself. I decided to go to Iran, to get away from my addiction, to take care of my aunt, and to find myself by breaking who I had become. Upon my return to the U.S., I sought out professional guidance and was able to better understand the rationale behind my addiction. I was given tools to better cope with stressors and past traumas. I also attended meetings to shed light upon my struggles, rather than hiding their skeletons, which would then become a monster of my destruction. Despite the torments of my experiences, I am now equipped to handle the rigors of the path to success.

A few years ago, my addiction brought me to my knees, and the void inside me began to fester. After failing two semesters and the news of my aunt's stage four ovarian cancer diagnosis, I was at my rock bottom, I couldn't go on the same way, because I had lost touch with myself. I decided to go to Iran, to get away from my addiction, to take care of my aunt, and to find myself by breaking who I had become. Tragically, my aunt’s cancer was conquering her body faster than she could fight them off. Even though cancer had spread to her colon (despite the colostomy), her liver, and her pancreas, she would look up at me with such zest for life. Her lips may have been chapped from the treatment, but her smile brightened up every room. As time passed, her pain worsened, and no medicine was strong enough to ease such pain, until one day, as I was getting food from the hospital’s food court, she drifted off into a coma. The doctors expected her to hold on for five days, but time was not kind enough. We lost her in matter of five hours, as I was holding her hand, begging her to hold on just a little longer, apologizing to her for leaving her alone. It tore my heart. It was a week ago that she asked me to put makeup on her, because she had lost all her eyebrows and eyelashes to chemotherapy. The last conversation I had with her, she asked me to learn to love myself, to take care of myself for her sake if nothing else. During my long stay in Iran, I applied for internships at hospitals, because I wanted to make a contribution to the community. I began working in research at Saadi of Shiraz Hospital, where I was selected through a series of interviews with several doctors, who had initiated the research. I was then to study the histology of the dermal cells, to identify the abnormal cells and structures found. I was working side by side with a dermatologist as a research assistant in charge of gathering volunteers to join and contribute to the research. We studied two skin cancers, melanoma, and microcystic adnexal carcinoma. I was trained to use the samples of the affected areas and creating slides to observe under the microscope and gather data on their growth and cycles. The second hospital I worked at was Namazi hospital, working side by side a cardiovascular doctor at this hospital, taking care of his patients, and learning how to talk to patient's families who are going through a difficult time. I learned how to chart patient's information, symptoms, and some insight into the patient's home life. I learned how to get to know the patients on a deeper level, to set a foundation of trust with them. I gained insight into the various conditions and their course of treatment. After my two internships, I was certain that I wanted to become a dermatologic surgeon. Additionally, I was lured into the world of psychology by observing my reactions to certain events and was curious as to how those reactions transpired. Through my time in Iran, I was dealing with my own personal challenges in terms of mental health. I had to learn to take responsibility for my actions, as well as, dealing with stressful, undesirable, and unfortunate situations. That is when I decided that I would like to help others, the same way I was helped in my personal tribulations. I have always held a great fascination with the human brain, but after my personal experiences, I was voracious for more information. I started reading books on various mental illnesses, and self-development books that were focused on dealing with past experiences and trauma. It was then apparent to me: I wanted a background in psychology because it plays an imperative role in our day-to-day interactions with others Upon my return to the U.S., I sought out professional guidance and was able to better understand the rationale behind my addiction. I knew I needed help, and this was the first time I drummed up the courage to seek it. I was given tools to better cope with stressors and past traumas. I also attended meetings to shed light upon my struggles, rather than hiding their skeletons, which would then become a monster of my destruction. My aunt's last words have helped me in my path of recovery. In times of doubt, I remember the only request she ever made, and the last promise I made to her. Despite the torments of my experiences, I am now equipped to handle the rigors of the path to success.