I hid under a table, desperately holding its legs. For minutes, the ground violently shook, but all I could hear was my own frantic heartbeat. It was not until later, huddled beside my classmates, that the realization of inevitable fatalities struck me. The March 2011 earthquake and tsunami devastated Japan and profoundly impacted my childhood. Yet, beyond physical destruction, my journey with mental health had already begun, shaped significantly by events both before and after this disaster. My earliest memories are tainted by abuse—physical and verbal—from my father. The person who should have been my protector instead became the architect of my anxiety, depression, and trauma. Unfortunately, even school did not provide a reprieve from violence. From ages six to nine, I experienced bullying from two of my classmates. The torment wasn’t limited to harsh words and physical confrontations; it escalated into attempts on my life—being pushed down stairs and into a traffic by a peer. Even at such a young age, I experienced the chilling knowledge that someone genuinely wished me harm, an understanding that left psychological scars far deeper than any visible injury. Yet, my experiences with mental health extend beyond my personal struggles. My mother, a constant victim of intimate partner violence from my father, battled not only existing health conditions, exacerbated by her stress, but also persistent suicidal thoughts. Said health condition would worsen in years to come, and by 2020, she was told that she had less than 7 years to live. Watching my mother's suffering and sensing the fragility of her mental state forced me into the role of caregiver, not only for her but also for my younger brother. I learned early to juggle roles far beyond my years—parent, caretaker, and counselor. These experiences etched resilience and empathy into my character. While initially, I struggled under the immense weight of responsibility and trauma, I gradually learned to transform my pain into strength. Instead of becoming embittered by adversity, I became passionately invested in improving mental health awareness and care. At university, my dedication led me to actively participate as a research assistant in a psychology lab, where I helped study language development and led a research project on accent discrimination. This role allowed me to delve deeper into psychological theories and to understand human behavior and societal interactions. I also hoped that with my research, there will be less people discriminated, shamed into silence, or suffering from feelings of inadequacy simply for their accents. However, it was my time as a counselor at Camp KESEM—a nonprofit organization that supports children whose parents have cancer—that profoundly solidified my commitment to mental health advocacy. At KESEM, I encountered children who, like myself, bore emotional burdens far too heavy for their age. I understood their pain intimately; I recognized the exhaustion hidden behind their smiles, the bottled-up anger, and the devastating feeling of helplessness. My ability to empathize was borne from my own experiences, allowing me to provide authentic comfort and create meaningful connections. One unforgettable moment was during the camp's Empowerment session, where I shared my past anger and guilt over my mother’s illness and abuse at home. A camper later confided, “I blamed my mom for dying. Thank you for saying it’s okay to be angry, that it doesn't make me a monster.” This profound exchange underscored the power of shared experiences and validated my belief in the necessity of open, empathetic dialogue surrounding mental health. Through these interactions, I realized my purpose was not only to heal myself but also to help others find their path toward emotional resilience and self-understanding. My personal journey has reshaped my relationships, teaching me compassion, patience, and the importance of providing space for vulnerability without judgment. It also refined my perspective on the world: every individual carries hidden struggles, invisible scars, and unspoken pain. Understanding this has fostered deeper relationships and more genuine interactions with people around me. Looking ahead, my goal is to integrate my lived experiences and passion for mental health into my future career as a healthcare worker. I aim to foster holistic wellness that recognizes and addresses the mental and emotional facets of health care. My vision is to create supportive spaces within medical settings, advocate for policies improving mental health services, and increase public awareness about psychological well-being. In reflecting upon my journey, I realize my experiences have provided me not just trials, but essential tools. They have cultivated within me empathy, resilience, and the determination to ensure others do not suffer silently. As a future healthcare provider, my promise is simple yet profound: to honor every patient’s mental and emotional landscape as significantly as their physical health, and to transform personal adversity into collective healing.

I was born in Tokyo but spent my early years in a small Japanese town with one aging clinic and no pediatric specialist. My younger brother, born with a congenital defect, was often turned away. I still remember the nurse, hesitant and apologetic, saying, “We cannot take responsibility for such a complicated case.” It was the first time I understood that medicine, for all its wonders, is not equally accessible. And it was the first time I realized that who we are, our location, our income, our identity, can determine whether we receive care at all. When I immigrated to the U.S. at nine, I was hopeful that a new country would mean better opportunities. But I quickly learned that for many immigrants, the challenges simply change form. My mother, a single parent battling chronic illness, could not understand the medical jargon in English. I became her translator, legal advocate, and medical aide before I was old enough to understand what those roles fully meant. I read through insurance denials, explained diagnoses, and called providers—all while doing my homework and raising my younger brother. Immigrant experiences, especially in the field of healthcare, brought challenges that I now reflect as valuable experiences that have better connected me to my patients. I have always viewed medicine not just as a science, but as a human experience, one that is deeply intertwined with culture, language, and dignity. That is why I chose to major in Law, History, and Culture as an undergraduate student, knowing that such an education could help me better patient care. I wanted to understand how policies and histories create structural barriers in healthcare. At USC, I researched accent discrimination in healthcare settings, hoping to uncover how subtle biases shape both patient experience and provider behavior. Simultaneously, I conducted an independent study on the Nanjing Massacre, writing one of the first academic papers that examined civilian resistance through a healthcare lens. My work focused on how ordinary citizens—without medical degrees—used their understanding of the healing arts to save others. For me, this was more than historical analysis. It was a reaffirmation that medicine, at its core, is an act of service and resilience. In my Master’s program in Biology at ASU, I continued bridging science and justice. I contributed to the Embryo Project Encyclopedia, making developmental biology accessible to the public. My thesis focused on Type II diabetes among the Gila River Tribes, analyzing how the construction of the Coolidge Dam disrupted traditional food systems and led to devastating public health outcomes, particularly for women and children. Through this work, I saw how history, environment, and biology coalesce to shape health. STEM, I learned, cannot exist in isolation from the people it serves. As a future osteopathic physician, I hope to bring both my lived experience and academic training into my practice. I aim to specialize in women’s health, especially in minority populations that are often overlooked in current medical systems. I want to investigate how culturally tailored interventions can improve health outcomes for patients who have long been marginalized. My dream is to work at the intersection of clinical medicine, research, and policy—to create a healthcare system where language and background no longer determine the quality of care.