Just recently, I dedicated nearly three hours to navigating the maze of student loan consolidation. To my surprise, the experience was relatively smooth, thanks to a friendly and supportive customer service representative who guided me through the process.
However, once it was over, I felt a mix of relief and an overwhelming sense of gloom. It’s now 2023, a whole decade after I donned my graduation cap, and I still find myself with $20,000 in student loans looming over me. A portion of this debt stems from my master’s degree, but much of it was offset by my husband’s work benefits. Nevertheless, the weight of this financial burden is significant.
What weighs even heavier is the guilt I carry as a stay-at-home mom, knowing that I’m not contributing financially towards alleviating this debt. My husband, David, is a remarkable and dedicated provider. When I confided in him about my guilt following the loan consolidation, he reassured me, saying, “I’ve always been here to support you, and I’ll continue to do so.” In that moment, my feelings of gratitude swelled, almost eclipsing my guilt regarding the degrees I’m no longer utilizing.
Throughout my educational journey, I fought hard to secure every scholarship I could. I worked tirelessly after high school to save funds, completed several CLEP tests to reduce tuition costs, maintained strong grades to earn an Honor’s scholarship, and even served as a Resident Assistant for a competitive program, receiving room and board assistance in return. Yet, despite all my efforts, I still found myself taking out loans.
At a young age, I fell in love and married. Ten years ago, as I walked across the graduation stage, I was unexpectedly pregnant with twins. My aspirations of becoming a teacher led me to pursue a master’s degree shortly after their birth, where I graduated with a 3.9 GPA in just two years. I worked as an adjunct for over five years but ultimately decided to leave the job last year due to the overwhelming stress of balancing work and motherhood.
Society often encourages women to chase their dreams, but every decision carries its own set of consequences. Reflecting on the past decade, I sometimes find myself questioning whether it was all worth it. I haven’t defaulted on my loans and have no desire to seek government forgiveness for degrees I voluntarily obtained. Yet, I often wonder about my worth. Do my two advanced degrees hold any value now that I’ve chosen to be a stay-at-home mom? Am I placing an undue financial burden on David?
When guilt threatens to turn into regret, I remind myself of the wisdom my grandmother imparted when I was young. She emphasized the importance of education, saying, “A woman should always have the means to support herself, as life is unpredictable. Your education is something that can never be taken away.” That advice has stayed with me, even as I grapple with the gnawing guilt of my student loan debt.
I’m learning to come to terms with my decisions: the university I attended, the loans I took out, my early marriage, and my choice to dedicate myself to motherhood. I recognize that not everyone has the luxury of such choices, and I remain grateful for the privileges I’ve had. However, the complexity of these decisions often feels emotionally and financially daunting.
While I may wish for different circumstances, wishing does not change my current obligations. One thing I am certain of: I do not regret my education. Its value extends beyond monetary gain; it has shaped who I am as a person.
As I advocate for my son, who faces autism, ADHD, and learning disabilities, I do so not for his potential earnings but because he is inherently valuable. Investing in his education is essential, as investing in people is inherently good. Education enriches individuals, and while it still demands a significant portion of my husband’s paycheck each month, it remains an integral part of my identity. I hold onto the hope that one day, when my children require me less, I will leverage my education to give back and finally tackle those lingering student loans.