Samantha Smith

A couple of months ago, I completed my master’s degree in human resource management. After years of juggling full‑time work with the pursuit of my education, finally reaching the finish line has felt almost surreal. What’s caught me off guard the most is the mix of emotions that have surfaced - The truth is, they aren’t what I expected.

To set the scene, we need to go back in time. 31 years ago, I came to be in this world. Born into severe poverty, my dad left when I was a baby and my mom went on to battle addiction; she ended up passing away when I was 7. I lived with distant family for the next few years but ultimately ended up homeless as a teenager. I couch surfed and partied to fit in where I could until my boyfriend’s family at the time ended up taking me in and caring for me (insert shoutout here: I could not be more appreciative or thankful for them). Against all odds, and with some stern talking to’s, I was able to graduate high school at 17 while simultaneously graduating running start with my certificate in Fashion Marketing.

The next few years as a young adult, out in the world trying to navigate real life, were formative. Struggling to make it, I felt in my bones that I deserved more. It was then that I realized it was now on me to make these kinds of choices; if I wanted more, I had to go get it myself. So, at 19, I decided to go back to school. I’d always dreamed of being the kind of girl who would go to university. I wanted to be someone who was worthy and deserving of opportunity. I wanted to be enough. So, I started my academic journey by attending community college where I earned my AA. From there, I applied to UW and a couple of months later I received my acceptance into the Integrated Social Science program. My world changed. I worked tirelessly to complete my undergrad all the while still working full time to grow within my career. I was able to travel to Greece and conduct ethnographic research in partnership with Harvard, positioning myself to continue on to grad school. Once my undergrad was complete, I gave myself about a year before starting my master’s where I chipped away at it for several months. And now, here we are. I’m so grateful, yet the happiness and joy of having met these milestones felt displaced. After nearly a decade of pursuing higher education, I graduated and now I’m just, done? This is it? 

The myriad of conflicting emotions have brought me pause. I’m at a great spot in my life. I’m set up to take the next steps toward growing my career as well as building the life for myself that I’ve always wanted. I’ve come so far and I should be proud. End of story. Instead, I’ve been overwhelmed by trying to come to terms with what it all means. As I’ve reflected, I realized that I’d always thought if I just reached “success”, I could separate myself from where I come from. I thought if I had money and a career and an education that somehow the part of my identity I’ve always rejected, of poverty and lack, would be erased. I could position myself the way I wanted to be seen and I could be known for my achievements instead of where I come from. Throughout my life I’ve continually weighed success as these intangible milestones, aligning with the defining ideas placed on us by society. It wasn’t until very recently that it dawned on me; my emotions had felt displaced because my pride wasn’t in completing my masters. My pride was coming from the resilience it took to get here. I've since realized my focus needed to shift towards recognizing resilience as my actual success.

Sitting with that truth has been strangely grounding. For so long I chased accomplishments as if they could rewrite my past but in finally realizing that my worth was never tied to achievement, something has softened in me. I have permission now to look at my younger self with more compassion and to finally acknowledge the parts of my story that I’ve spent years trying to outrun; the instability, the loss, the fear. Learning to let myself feel pride without attaching it to milestones brings a mix of grief and gratitude. Grief for the little girl who carried more than she should have, believing that success was the only thing that would make her worthy and gratitude for the woman who can now look back with clarity instead of shame.

In this space, something has shifted for me. My achievements no longer feel like a finish line but rather proof of who I’ve always been; a woman worthy, capable, determined, and resilient. I’m no longer interested in chasing success to validate my past as I’d rather build a life that honors the strength it took me to get here instead. I feel this message is so important to share because it’s applicable to every single one of us regardless of our path. It doesn’t matter what your journey is or has been. It doesn’t matter what your goals are or what achievements you’ve made. Success isn’t our titles, our roles or our salaries. It isn’t the degrees we hold, or the credentials we have or the acronyms behind our name. As women, no matter our story or our path, our success is our resilience.

I wrote this all to say that the woman in me sees the woman in you. We are what we’ve overcome. And for that, we should always be proud of the resilience it took to be where we’re at as this is our truest success.