You’re Not Failing—You’re Becoming by Ashley

You’re Not Failing—You’re Becoming by Ashley - July 2025 Scholarship Essay

If I could give one piece of advice to my past self, it would be this:
You’re not failing—you’re becoming. Keep going.

There was a time in my life when everything felt like a setback. I was in my early twenties, trying to hold myself together after losing my mom to breast cancer. She had been my anchor, my home, and my biggest cheerleader. And when she passed, I felt like I was drifting—grieving, overwhelmed, and just trying to survive.

Back then, I thought I had to power through everything. I enrolled in college right after her passing, thinking structure would save me. But I was drowning. I worked full-time to support myself, battled anxiety and grief behind the scenes, and slowly watched my motivation—and my grades—slip away. When I dropped out with a 1.2 GPA, I believed I had ruined any chance of a meaningful future. I thought I had failed.

That’s the version of me I would go back to—the girl sitting in the back of a community college classroom, exhausted and unsure, just trying to make it through the day. I’d sit next to her, hold her hand, and tell her gently:
“You’re not failing. You’re becoming.”

I’d remind her that healing is not linear. That survival mode isn’t weakness—it’s proof of strength. That the low points she’s living through aren’t the end of the story, but the beginning of a new one. That one day, her pain will be her purpose.

Because it was.

Today, I work at Dell Children’s Foundation, part of a Catholic healthcare system that serves children across Central Texas, many of whom are uninsured or under-resourced. I help raise funds for critical care programs and tell the stories of patients and families who remind me every day what courage looks like. I was part of a team that helped raise over $105 million to expand lifesaving services like NICU and cardiac care. And one of the stories that impacted me the most was Holtin’s—a child born with a complex heart condition who received care thanks to those very expansions. His family made a legacy gift in his honor, and I got to help share their story with the community. That moment taught me that storytelling isn’t just creative—it’s impactful. It can heal, connect, and inspire change.

That moment also reignited something in me. It reminded me of my voice, my purpose, and the power of stories to do good. And it led me back to school.

I’m now a student at St. Edward’s University, a Holy Cross institution, pursuing a degree in Digital Storytelling and Content Creation. I’ve gone from a 1.2 GPA to a 3.0. Every quiz, every paper, every late-night study session is a step forward—not just academically, but personally. I’m proving to myself that my dreams weren’t lost—they were just waiting for me to be ready again.

So if I could talk to my past self, I’d tell her not to rush. Not to compare. That taking time to heal doesn’t make her less ambitious. That the version of herself she feels ashamed of is actually the one who carried her through the hardest chapter of her life—and that deserves so much grace.

I’d also tell her this:

You’re going to fall in love with learning again.
You’re going to use your voice to help others feel seen.
You’re going to walk across that stage, degree in hand, proud of every single step it took to get there.
You’re going to become someone you’re proud of.

And when you do, you’ll look back at the girl who thought she had failed—and you’ll thank her for not giving up.

That’s the power of advice. Not because it changes the past, but because it helps you make peace with it—and walk into your future with strength and clarity.

So to my past self:
You’re not failing.
You’re becoming.
And it’s going to be more beautiful than you can imagine.