One of the most memorable quotes for me comes from the Marianne Williamson passage titled “Our Deepest Fear.” I've heard this quote in at least three separate movies but the one that sticks out to me is Akeelah and the Bee (this is also one of my favorite movies ever). For context, Akeelah’s spelling bee coach makes her read this quote after she makes a comment expressing that spelling is the only thing she’s good at. As long as I live, I will never forget this passage. These lines are the most powerful to me: “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure...We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God...We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us...And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.” I have always been a quieter, softer-spoken Black girl. Growing up, I was called shy and reserved. Generally, I’ve preferred to be an attentive observer and an introspective thinker, rather than outgoing and talkative. There was always a negative connotation attached to my quietness. I felt that the more talkative students were praised while the “shy” ones were often overlooked or deemed to be checked out or disengaged. I held this stigma for a long time, probably until high school. It is true that I have struggled with asserting my voice and I often questioned whether my opinions were even worth being heard. I’ve come a long way in terms of my confidence and self-esteem and it wasn’t until I sought validation from within myself, rather than from others, that I realized how much I have to offer. Of course, I am still working on this. This quote means so much to me because it gave me a new perspective on my duty to express myself. I have always relied on my faith in God in times of stress, despair, and fear, so this passage particularly resonates with me. This quote reminds me that there is no reason for me to diminish myself for the sake of others. In fact, my doing so serves no one. It made me think about how much I’ve undermined my potential and accomplishments. It made me address my self-doubt and fear of humiliation and failure. Moreover, it opened my eyes to the possibility that I am afraid of the pressure I might feel when I celebrate my talents and acknowledge my worth. However, throughout my life experiences, I've learned that I can be proud of myself and my voice, while still maintaining my sense of self. I am learning that my quietness allows me to be a better listener so that my words have more impact, a strength, not a weakness. Ultimately, how can I be an example for others if I don't honor myself?

I’m not sure whether it was my love for psychological thrillers, my obsession with the show Criminal Minds, or how fascinating my mother’s career with families and mental health is that drew me to psychology. It is probably a mixture of all three. What intrigues me about all of these is how our upbringing, understanding of our identity, and subsequent perspectives shape our minds and behaviors. Entering college, I knew that I would major in psychology, but what I didn’t realize was how my own experiences would play a role in my passion for this field. In my senior year, I did a research experiment for a methods and statistics class in which I explored a possible correlation between students’ connection to spirituality and their motivation for success and stress management. My inspiration came from thinking about the way I lean on my faith in times of distress, along with counseling support. I did much of this while in college. While the experiment proved to be a little more challenging to quantify than I anticipated, the research exposed me to a growing interest among mental health professionals in the link between spirituality, stress and mental health, and the treatment of DSM disorders. Within my postgraduate studies, I wish to explore how incorporating an individual's, couples’, or family’s spirituality into their treatment planning can contribute to healing and strengthen resilience. An acknowledgment of spiritual beliefs can be included in various therapies that seek to interrupt unhealthy patterns in thoughts, emotions, and behaviors. I am also interested in addressing how multigenerational traumas and other external factors trigger epigenetic changes that contribute to disordered behaviors in individuals and families. While I wish I could say I know exactly what lies ahead of me career-wise, I can’t. I would love to one day start my own private practice or be of service in a family health clinic. I may even decide to pursue a doctorate in clinical psychology and continue research on spirituality and mental health. What I am sure of is that in furthering my education with a master’s degree I can step into the door of something bigger. I want to be more readily able to show how a strength-based approach can be tied in with already established methods of therapeutic treatment. In doing this, I plan to include the underrepresented values of Black and Brown families, especially those that cling to their faith. If I can do this in any capacity, I know I will have done my part in enriching the scope of mental health treatment and recovery.

My experience with mental health has undeniably impacted my motivation to make a difference in the future. I believe mental health is one of the few aspects of humanity that affects every single one of us. My experiences have certainly inspired my education in psychology and therapy and have ultimately strengthened my passion for destigmatizing mental health. My freshman year of college was the first time I experienced depression. I believe a mix of factors contributed. I was moving to a new city across the country. I knew no one and had no family in Washington, D.C. Of course there was the shock that comes with adjusting to the social, academic, and cultural newness of college. This included realizing what it meant to be a Black woman in an elite predominantly White institution. That, topped with the seasonal depression of the winter (I am from sunny California), must have come to a head in my second semester. Slowly I started feeling a lingering sad mood, low energy, dwindling motivation, and desire to isolate myself more and more. This was a new and discouraging feeling for me, to say the least. What was most significant for me though was my sense that I was the only one of my peers feeling this way and assuming that I had to go through it alone. In acknowledging this depression, I was grateful to have a mother who has worked in mental health and encouraged me to reach out to others on campus. As hesitant as I was to open up, I looked to mentors, chaplains, and counselors for advice on how to adjust and succeed in this setting. One African American counselor and school psychologist in particular gave me insight into navigating this space. This validated my experience and encouraged me to connect with other Black students who once felt the same. This was pivotal for me, and speaking to someone with a similar background helped me feel much more comfortable. I decided then that I wanted to provide a similar safe space for communities who have an underrepresented client base of mental health services. Though it has helped me, it is no secret that therapy and discussion of mental health in the African American community is still seen as taboo and inaccessible. For many, being strong means keeping things secret and professional help is never necessary. Though this is slowly changing, I plan to contribute to the normalization of therapy and vulnerability within the Black community. It wasn’t until the summer after freshman year while I was home, that I discovered just how many of my friends had felt some type of depression the past year. I began to understand how much we hide what we go through from even our closest peers. Whether it is the fear of embarrassment, rejection, or feeling broken or like a burden, so many of us put up the facade that we are always okay. One of the biggest realizations of my life was that our being vulnerable with each other is what bonds us and strengthens our relationships. Through this we are reminded that we are all human, no matter where we come from. Even more, being vulnerable enough to get help when we need it is a sign of strength, not weakness. It can even save our lives. I believe that when we accept the fact that we all go through things, no one has the power to hold our vulnerabilities against us and we can come out victorious in our healing. As I enter my graduate education and career, I plan to step into the door of something bigger. I plan to be more readily able to show how a strength-based approach can be tied in with already established methods of therapeutic treatment. In doing this, I plan to include the underrepresented values of Black and Brown families. If I can do this in any capacity, I know I will have done my part in enriching my community and the scope of mental health treatment and recovery.