It was an ordinary day in the whirlwind environment of Kaiser Permanente’s Emergency Department, where I worked as a Substance Use Navigator. The constant hum of activity, doctors moving swiftly, and patients in need filled the air. But for me, the day took on a different weight—I was anxiously waiting for an email that could change my entire future.
During my lunch break, I found a quiet secluded corner outside and pulled out my phone. My best friend, always a steady presence in my life, was on FaceTime with me. As we began talking about our days I received a notification from Heller. It was my acceptance letter. My heart was racing. I remember her voice on the other end, filled with encouragement as I fumbled nervously, talking about the email. “This is it,” I said, my stomach doing nervous flips, “This is going to determine the next four years of my life.” I could feel the tension rising, a mixture of hope and fear, the kind that grips you when everything feels like it’s about to shift.
For a moment, I froze, my finger hovering over the screen, hesitant to open it. “What if it’s bad news?” I thought. My friend, sensing my hesitation, urged me to go for it. “Just open it,” she said, “Whatever happens, you’ve already worked so hard to get here.”
With a deep breath, I clicked on the message. As my eyes scanned the first few words, my breath caught in my throat. I had been accepted. For a second, I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Then, it hit me all at once—I was going to be a PhD student. The tears came, unbidden and overwhelming. I had always felt that a PhD was something out of reach, especially because I didn’t even know what the degree meant until my senior year of undergrad. I had struggled with so much self-doubt and imposter syndrome, questioning whether I was truly cut out for something like this. But in that moment, all those insecurities seemed to melt away.
I could hear my friend on the other side of the screen, her voice breaking with emotion as she, too, started crying. We both sat there, caught up in the intensity of the moment, our shared joy spilling over. It wasn’t just about the acceptance—it was about proving to myself that I could do something I had never imagined. It was about the journey that led me to this point, a journey filled with obstacles, doubts, hard work, determination, and unexpected victories.
Looking back, my interactions with Heller had been so positive. I had felt welcomed, seen, and encouraged by the faculty, even before my official acceptance. I had even connected with a professor I wrote about in my personal statement, a connection that made the school feel like the right place for me. It felt like more than just an acceptance—it felt like a validation of everything I had worked for.
In that small, quiet moment at the hospital, with the chaos of the Emergency Department just beyond my view, I felt a deep sense of gratitude. My heart was full, not just for the opportunity, but for the community I was about to join. I knew, without a doubt, that I was making the right decision. Heller wasn’t just the next step in my academic journey—it was the place where I would grow into the person I was meant to be.