It’s not uncommon for someone to discover psychology and feel an immediate pull. For me, though, it wasn’t just interest, it was validation. I vividly remember my first psychology class. What began as curiosity quickly became something deeper. I was reading through chapters and suddenly realized – this is me. I was learning the names of experiences I’d quietly carried (anxiety, depression) for the first time, they didn’t feel so daunting. There were definitions, explanations and more importantly, gave me hope.
At the time, structure helped keep my anxiety at a constant low hum. I had a plan, and I wasn’t about to deviate from it. Change was not in the itinerary. However, beneath the anxiety was a quieter voice, one that knew what I truly needed—a voice that reminded me of the impact my first counselor had on me.
I still remember the moment she looked at me and said I was a good student and a good kid. Such simple words but they reframed how I saw myself. She gently challenged the way I spoke to myself and opened a space for a different story to take root. That relationship changed me, and it planted a seed that eventually grew into a calling.
My own counseling journey taught me how to tune in, listen, and care for myself in ways I never learned at home or in school. It helped me understand the importance of making space for pain, for healing, for self-understanding.
Another deep motivation for me came from loss. When I was in middle school, my aunt died by suicide. That grief stayed with me, shaping the way I think about mental health in families, in silence, and in the spaces where we so often feel alone. I’ve carried her with me in this work ever since. In many ways, I became a counselor with her in mind. I wanted to be someone my loved ones and my clients could turn to when they needed understanding and a safe place to land.
When I finally gave myself permission to change my major to psychology, it felt like a weight had been lifted. For the first time, I was on the right path. I knew I wanted to make a difference, even if I didn’t know exactly how yet. That clarity only deepened when I entered graduate school and found myself surrounded by a diverse cohort of passionate, thoughtful, and open-minded future counselors. It was another sign that I was exactly where I was meant to be.
The Words That Stay with Me
One of the most influential books I’ve read is “My Stroke of Insight,” by Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor. In it, she describes the stroke she experienced as a brain scientist and what it taught her about how our minds and emotions are shaped by the parts of our brain. One moment in the book that has stayed with me and now hangs on the wall of my office is when she quotes Socrates:
“The unexamined life is not worth living.”
She then adds,
“I don’t have to think thoughts that bring me pain.”
That concept of observing our thoughts, challenging them, and choosing compassion over judgement is at the heart of so much of the work I do with clients. It’s an elegant expression of what we often explore through cognitive behavioral therapy—that while we can’t always control what happens to us, we can examine the stories we tell ourselves and reshape them in ways that serve our healing.
