Why I Went Back to University at 35

At 35, I was a single mum with two kids, a full-time job, and a dream I had been putting off for a decade. I wanted to become a psychologist.

"You are too old," friends said. "You cannot afford it," my bank account agreed. "What about the kids?" my mum asked.

But something inside me refused to let it go. I had been fascinated by psychology since I was a teenager. Every self-help book, every podcast, every conversation about the mind — I was all in.

So I applied. Part-time degree. Online classes after the kids went to bed. Weekend study sessions at the library while my mum watched the children.

It was the hardest thing I have ever done. There were nights I cried over textbooks. Mornings I could barely keep my eyes open. Semesters I wanted to quit.

But I did not. Three years later, I graduated with honours. My kids were in the audience, cheering louder than anyone.

It is never too late. The only thing worse than starting late is never starting at all.