Just the other day, I spent nearly three hours navigating the complexities of student loan consolidation over the phone and online. To my surprise, the experience was far more pleasant than I anticipated. The customer service representative was friendly and accommodating, making the entire application process seamless.
However, when I finally hung up, I felt a mix of relief and a heavy sense of despair. It’s now 2017, and a decade has gone by since I graduated from college. Ten years is a long time, and I still find myself with $20,000 in student loans looming over me. While a portion of that debt is from my master’s degree—most of which was covered by my husband’s employer benefits—the burden still feels overwhelming.
What weighs even heavier on me is the guilt I experience as a stay-at-home mom, knowing I’m not contributing financially to alleviate my debt. My husband, a dedicated and generous provider, reassured me by saying, “I’ve always supported you, and I will continue to do so.” That moment of comfort only amplified my gratitude for him while simultaneously deepening my guilt over the degrees I’m not currently utilizing.
Throughout my college journey, I worked tirelessly to secure every scholarship available to finance my private school education. I spent a year saving money after high school, aced several CLEP exams to reduce tuition costs, maintained high grades to earn the Honor’s scholarship, and even became a resident assistant in a competitive program, receiving room and board support. Yet, I still needed to take out loans.
Young love led me to marriage early in life, and ten years ago, I unexpectedly found myself pregnant with twins during graduation. Initially, I had envisioned a career in teaching. After my twins turned 15 months old, I enrolled in graduate school and completed my MA with a 3.9 GPA in just two years. I worked as an adjunct for over five years but decided to step back last year, as the demands of motherhood and work became too overwhelming.
Society often tells women they can pursue any path they desire, yet every decision—good or bad—comes with its own set of consequences. Reflecting on the past decade, I often question whether it was all worth it. I’ve never defaulted on my loans and have no desire to push for government loan forgiveness for the degrees I consciously chose to pursue.
But the question runs deeper: Am I worth it? With two expensive degrees that seem almost meaningless as a stay-at-home mom, and having burdened my husband with thousands of dollars in MY student loans, I grapple with these thoughts. Whenever guilt starts to morph into regret, I remind myself of my grandmother’s wise advice from my childhood: “It’s wonderful to be a mom, but make sure you get an education. A woman should always have the means to support herself, as life can be unpredictable. No one can take your education away.” Her words have stuck with me, even as the guilt of my student loan debt weighs heavy on my heart.
I’m learning to come to terms with my choices: the university I attended, the loans I took out, marrying young, embracing my role as a mother, deciding against work when I couldn’t juggle everything, and choosing to stay home to raise my children. I recognize that not everyone is afforded these choices, and I feel grateful for the privileges I have.
Yet, these choices can be complicated and emotionally taxing. I find myself wishing for different paths taken, but wishing won’t change my current responsibilities. One thing I am certain of: I would never trade my education. It holds value, not just in monetary terms, but because it has shaped me as an individual.
I think about my son, who faces challenges such as autism, ADHD, and learning disabilities. My advocacy for his education isn’t driven by the hope of high future earnings; rather, it stems from the belief that he is valuable simply as a person. Investing in his education is a noble and essential endeavor, as supporting individuals is inherently worthwhile.
Education always enriches a person; it never diminishes. While the debt still requires a significant portion of my husband’s paycheck each month (bless him—I’m endlessly thankful), my education remains an indelible part of who I am. It was a right, good, and valuable choice. I hold onto hope that once my children need me a bit less, I can leverage my education to give back to others and, perhaps, finally tackle those stubborn student loans head-on.
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In summary, while my journey has been riddled with challenges and financial burdens, I embrace my choices and the value of my education. I remain hopeful for the future and the opportunities that lie ahead.