ADA, Okla.  – Going back to college in my 40s has been one of the hardest, rawest, and most transformative decisions of my life. Some days I feel strong, focused, and unstoppable. Other days I feel like the weight of school, life, motherhood, and responsibilities might crush me. Being a Chickasaw woman, a single mother, and a full-time student with an entire lifetime lived before ever stepping back into a classroom — my journey is anything but simple. But it’s mine, and every messy, beautiful, painful part of it matters.

I’m not the traditional college student. I’m a mother of two — Bryshá and Skylar — juggling schoolwork with bills, parenting, and the realities of life. I’ve lived in Ada, spent seven years in Las Vegas, worked multiple jobs, earned certifications, opened my own body-sculpting business, and built a life rooted in resilience. Coming back to school wasn’t about fitting in; it was about finishing something that has been calling my name for years. It was about proving to myself, to my kids, and to my community that it’s never too late to rise.

The Good: When Strength Speaks Louder Than Fear

On the good days, I walk into class with confidence. My life experience is something textbooks can’t teach. I know how to be patient, how to handle pressure, and how to keep going even when life hits hard. Being part of the Chickasaw Nation’s School-to-Work program gives me the balance I need — income, structure, support, and purpose. Working under Dr. Judy Parker has helped me see how my future fits into something bigger, especially within health policy and leadership.

And then there are the moments that mean the most — when my kids tell me they’re proud of me. When they see me studying, they see discipline. When they see me exhausted but still pushing forward, they learn courage. My education isn’t only for me. It’s for them. For my community. For the generations behind me. For the legacy I am building.

The Bad: The Quiet Battles Nobody Sees

Let me be honest — this semester has tested me in ways I never saw coming. I’m now in the last two weeks of the semester, the time when everything piles up at once. Assignments, exams, responsibilities, life stress — all crashing down together. And mentally? It gets heavy.

But nothing — absolutely nothing — has pushed me the way my accounting class with Dani has.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, I walk into that room with the same prayer: “Lord, please let me understand today.”

And some days, I do. Some days the numbers make sense. But other days I feel like I’m drowning in journal entries, formulas, and financial concepts that refuse to stick. I’ve put in the blood, sweat, and tears — staying after class, practicing, joining study groups, watching videos, rewriting notes — doing everything I can.

I have classmates my age, but the difference is many of them work in financial fields. Money is their everyday language. For me, every chapter is a war. And when test day comes, it’s like my brain freezes. Everything I studied disappears. I fail, even when I gave it everything I had.

Those moments hit the hardest.

They make me feel small in a room full of young adults who pick things up fast. They make me question myself:

“Am I too old for this?” “Why can’t I get it like everyone else?” “Am I really going to make it through this?”

Some days I’m an overachiever with fire in my spirit. Other days I want to tuck my tail and run.

The Ugly: The Moments That Test My Soul

There are nights I cry out of pure frustration. Times I feel guilty for not understanding fast enough. Mornings where I wake up already exhausted. Days where I’m holding everything together by a thin thread — school, home, finances, parenting, responsibilities, expectations.

The ugly part is the silence. The part no one sees. The mental breakdowns. The doubts. The fear of failing. The pressure of trying to succeed while carrying a whole life on my shoulders.

But even in all of that… I’m still here.

A Dream That Belonged to the Younger Me

When I was younger, I dreamed of going to Langston University. So many of my friends and family went there, and the experience was powerful — cultural, historical, grounding. Growing up as a Black and Native woman, I was raised mostly within my Black community, and that shaped me deeply. But there was so much history I never learned. History that doesn’t get taught in regular classrooms. History that lives inside an HBCU like Langston.

I used to wonder why that wasn’t my path. Why I didn’t get to feel that cultural connection, that pride, that community.

But that dream belonged to a younger version of me.

Now, as a proud ECU Tiger, I understand something deeper:

Langston shaped those before me. ECU is shaping me.

ECU has given me opportunities, support, and lessons I never saw coming. I’ve met people who inspire me. Professors who challenge me. Experiences that have stretched me and strengthened me in ways I didn’t expect. I now know I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

And Still — I Rise

Even through the tears, the fear, the frustration, the late nights, and the failed tests — I rise.

Because quitting would hurt more than trying. Because I’ve survived harder things than any accounting exam. Because my kids are watching. Because my community is cheering for me. Because I deserve this degree — even if I have to crawl to get it.

This journey is not pretty. It’s not easy. It’s not simple.

But it is powerful.

Being in college in my 40s is a battlefield of responsibility, burnout, hope, and grit. Some days I feel strong. Some days I feel weak. But through it all, I’ve realized:

Age is not a weakness. Struggle is not failure. And progress is still progress — even when it hurts.

My journey may not be perfect, but it is mine. And no matter how hard it gets…

I’m not stopping. Not now. Not ever.

-ECU-