Since I was a small child I've always been empathetic and curious. This curiosity went beyond wondering why some words weren’t okay to say or why my parents would cover my eyes during certain scenes of television shows. I would wonder why I felt so deeply about things that were deemed as simplistic by others. Growing up in a community, where asking questions out of curiosity wasn’t the norm, made life difficult for a curious mind like mine. Being empathetic prevented me from detaching as easily as others, but it never crossed my mind for a second that I would have to detach from my favorite person. My cousin Tijah was the closest thing I had to a best friend. He was the one person that made me feel heard and we talked about any and everything. He wouldn’t shame me for being so emotional, instead allowing me to cry and feel. The last memory I have of him was when he and I met my mother at a gas station so I could go home. I did not hug him goodbye, I just got in the car with my mother and left. When I was informed of his murder, I was numb for a long time. I did not cry and I could not feel, which was unlike me. In the beginning stages of grief, denial is normal; I held on to that denial so I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of his loss. For months on end, I felt no emotion. I would shed a few tears at the sight of my mother crying, but mostly, I was cold and distant. Eventually, I reached out to people around me about what I was facing in that season of my life. Friends & family comforted me during that dark time. Although I was hurting, I started to feel my ability to empathize in return. Without reaching out and having that outlet to talk to about what I was going through, I could not imagine where I would be today. When I was finally in the stage of acceptance, and able to reflect on what I experienced, I realized that I wanted to be an outlet for other people. Looking back, I was hesitant to reach out for help because, in the black community, we are taught to push through our struggles and get things done. Some black children are taught to not ask questions and to listen instead. Our curiosity is criticized by the older generation and deemed disrespectful and disobedient. We’re shamed for our emotions rather than comforted and told that we’re too sensitive. Being a psychologist will allow me to be an advocate for people who need to be heard. I am deeply dedicated and passionate about this career field because I once was the little black girl who never felt understood and was searching for an outlet. All in all, the things I have experienced were more than a blessing and they opened my eyes to what I am truly meant to be. I want to advance my career in clinical psychology, studying the forensic and developmental branches. After succeeding in this field, I aim to write a bibliotherapy about my journey to becoming a psychologist & analyzing my childhood experiences. I know I have all of the potential to be great, it's my mission to leave my mark on this world with my empathetic soul, being who I was meant to be.

Since I was a small child I've always been empathetic and curious. This curiosity went beyond wondering why some words weren’t okay to say or why my parents would cover my eyes during certain scenes of television shows. I would wonder why I felt so deeply about things that were deemed as simplistic by others. Growing up in a community, where asking questions out of curiosity wasn’t the norm, made life difficult for a curious mind like mine. Being empathetic prevented me from detaching as easily as others, but it never crossed my mind for a second that I would have to detach from my favorite person. My cousin Tijah was the closest thing I had to a best friend. He was the one person that made me feel heard and we talked about any and everything. He wouldn’t shame me for being so emotional, instead allowing me to cry and feel. The last memory I have of him was when he and I met my mother at a gas station so I could go home. I did not hug him goodbye, I just got in the car with my mother and left. When I was informed of his murder, I was numb for a long time. I did not cry and I could not feel, which was unlike me. In the beginning stages of grief, denial is normal; I held on to that denial so I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of his loss. For months on end, I felt no emotion. I would shed a few tears at the sight of my mother crying, but mostly, I was cold and distant. Eventually, I reached out to people around me about what I was facing in that season of my life. Friends & family comforted me during that dark time. Although I was hurting, I started to feel my ability to empathize in return. Without reaching out and having that outlet to talk to about what I was going through, I could not imagine where I would be today. When I was finally in the stage of acceptance, and able to reflect on what I experienced, I realized that I wanted to be an outlet for other people. Looking back, I was hesitant to reach out for help because, in the black community, we are taught to push through our struggles and get things done. Some black children are taught to not ask questions and to listen instead. Our curiosity is criticized by the older generation and deemed disrespectful and disobedient. We’re shamed for our emotions rather than comforted and told that we’re too sensitive. Being a psychologist will allow me to be an advocate for people who need to be heard. I am deeply dedicated and passionate about this career field because I once was the little black girl who never felt understood and was searching for an outlet. All in all, the things I have experienced were more than a blessing and they opened my eyes to what I am truly meant to be. I want to advance my career in clinical psychology, studying the forensic and developmental branches. After succeeding in this field, I aim to write a bibliotherapy about my journey to becoming a psychologist & analyzing my childhood experiences. I know I have all of the potential to be great, it's my mission to leave my mark on this world with my empathetic soul, being who I was meant to be.