For years, survival was my only focus. But deep inside, I carried a quiet conviction: education could change my path. Knowledge, I believed, was the key to unlocking doors that hardship had kept closed.
So, even while raising six children and carrying the weight of responsibility, I pursued my studies. Nights were my classroom. I would sit at the kitchen table after the children had gone to bed, textbooks spread out beside half-empty cups of tea. The house was silent except for the scratching of my pen across paper.
“Mom, why are you still awake?” my youngest once asked, rubbing his eyes as he wandered into the kitchen.
I smiled, though fatigue weighed heavy on me. “Because one day, this will make life better for us.”
And it did, at least in part. I earned a Bachelor’s degree in Applied Business Management, a TEFL certificate, and a Project Management certificate. Each achievement was a victory, proof that I could rise above the limitations life had placed on me. I remember holding my degree in my hands, whispering, “You did it.”
But reality was harsher than I expected. Despite my hard work, the jobs I applied for remained out of reach. Remote opportunities slipped through my fingers, and even when I completed a project with a company in Malaysia, the work dried up after April, leaving me once again searching for the next chance.
The silence after each application was deafening. I would refresh my inbox, hoping for a reply, whispering prayers that never seemed to be answered.
“Lord,” I prayed one night, “I’ve done my part. Please, open a door.”
Frustration became a familiar companion, but persistence became my weapon. Each application, each attempt, was a declaration that I had not given up. Education gave me more than certificates. It gave me resilience, discipline, and the courage to keep striving even when success seemed far away. It reminded me that growth is never wasted, even if the world does not immediately reward it.