The weight of my desires pressed down on me, a mountain too steep to climb. The first semester passed in a blur of packed boxes and unfamiliar hostel rooms. My thoughts tangled like knots, leaving me paralyzed. The true desires of my heart seemed hidden in the fog.
But in the quiet, a truth emerged: I had to embody the woman others saw—intelligent, simple, refined, obedient, graceful. Peace became my compass, guiding me past roommate clashes and the everyday chaos that frayed my nerves.
Yet old patterns clung like shadows. Gambling sites, a siren song of false hope, pulled me back. My Bible gathered dust. My prayers were mere whispers. I teetered on the edge of surrender—until a single thought ignited a spark: Awaken. Rise.
I began to build. Small goals first, then bolder ones, etched onto paper. I refused to let them remain figments of imagination. Hours of screen time shrank to minutes, replaced by the rustle of pages in Jane Eyre.
Each morning, I greeted the day with purpose, not reaction. I set out my clothes the night before. Devotions became a ritual, with Psalm 23 chosen for weekly reflection. Every coin saved was a small victory against the tide of poverty, slipped carefully into a marked jar.
Routines bloomed—study blocks at the library, an hour of rest, quiet reflection by the window. These became my anchors against emotional storms. Slowly, deliberately, I sculpted the woman I envisioned—one choice, one boundary, one heartfelt prayer at a time.
The path ahead stretched long, but each step hummed with hope.
And yet, deep beneath the surface, a question lingered—a shadow I could no longer ignore. Could I truly hold onto this new path when the old temptations, the whispers of doubt, and the chaos I tried to escape came calling again?
The night was quiet, but my heart knew one thing: change was only the beginning.