“I think I’m ready now”, I yell to my mom as I put my first foot onto the school bus

A bit sweating and with a heartbeat racing a mile a minute, I’m off

Going to fifth grade, what an accomplishment!

With a let out of air that sounds exhausted and over worked, the bus comes to a screeching halt

“Cease the day!” the bus driver says, and with that same sentiment I take my seat in Mrs. Henry’s classroom

With the built up of nerves that occurs with every click and clack of her heel, I jump at the opportunity to display what I believe to be my knowledge of a subject- the ever so hard to master state capitols

I begin to understand what I am good at and what I can do

Overtime, I answer questions with ease. Words flowing out to answer her questions like water from our rusty school drinking fountain

I envision who I want to be- still foggy, a picture begins to emerge

“I’m going, I’m going”, I quickly snap at my mom, running out of the door for the first day of high school

Wearing a shirt complete with glitter and graphics, I feel ready to take on the world

I enter Mrs. Coglan’s class and my senses are flooded

Fluorescent lighting, Chinese lanterns and Fleet Wood Mac break away at what I thought high school might be

For the first time in my life I am told I have the ability to truly succeed

I have found wisdom, intrigue and love- psychology

“I’ll call you tomorrow!”, I excitedly say to my mom as she drives away from my dorm

With hot pink sheets on my bed, my dorm roomed covered wall-to wall in collaged pictures and a space that is completely my own, I am lost in a sea of possibilities

My days spent in lectures and study groups become an intellectual sounding board

I find a space where I feel free to express myself in ways I had not dared to previously

Surrounded by others who share my passion, I am continuously push to be an example of greatness- whatever that meant

Phrenology, Jung, Freud and Rogers fill my mind to full capacity and yet I want more

For every nook and cranny there must be a new piece of data, vocabulary or skill I could learn

I am struck by the duplicity of academia.

Become a professor. Bestow knowledge onto apt young pupils.

Become a community clinician. Work long hours for little pay and help others in dire need.

“But I wan’t to do both!”

Fascinated by the human experience that gives life to suffering and the warmth of intense joy, I continue to delve deeper into understanding who I am

Who am I?

How can I help?

That foggy picture I crumpled up and put in my pocket in the fifth grade begins to become clearer.

“I’m so proud of you honey!”, my mom says as I begin the first year of my doctoral program.

My picture is clear.