Fall always does this to me, the air turns crisp, the trees start letting go, and suddenly it feels like the season is asking you to reflect, too. I’ve been rearranging my furniture, cleaning my place, and feeling grounded again. Tonight I’ve had soft music on, the kind I used to play during seasons of uncertainty and emotional whiplash. It fits. This quarter has been about realizing I’m not superhuman, even though a part of me used to believe I had to be. People have even mentioned this to me in different ways, to give myself grace.
For the first time, I’m not obsessing over grades the way I used to. That’s been a long time coming. I’ve said here before that I wanted to be “the best B+ student.” When I chased A’s, it wasn’t always about excellence; sometimes it was survival. Perfect grades used to be proof I could make it into med school, or into any competitive door I wanted. It was also self-protection. If I didn’t slip here, I wouldn’t slip in life.
A classmate and I put it perfectly the other day as we walked to her car. We both have that intense, almost survival-driven relationship with school. She said she doesn’t want an A in one of her classes this quarter. I told her I didn’t either, and we both paused like, are we allowed to feel that? I said, “It feels like self-preservation.” And she agreed and said, “It’s the fear of if you let yourself relax in one area, what does that mean for the rest of your life, where else will you allow yourself to slip?“
Growing up the way I did, foster care, no real safety net even after adoption, everything falling on my own shoulders, raising my child on my own… structure kept us safe. Perfection felt like protection. But now I’m asking myself: What really happens if I get a B+? Another friend joked that B+ stands for me being a “badass,” and honestly, I received that. Because this time, it isn’t a crisis. It’s liberation.
Last quarter I was 0.5 away from highest honors. My advisor told me we could count an extra class if I wanted, but it might drop my GPA slightly. I sat with it. And it was the first time it didn’t feel like life or death. Because the truth is, I have my own investment fund. I run a global finance blog. I homeschool. I parent. I’m in school full-time. I’m building something. I am not a traditional student, and I don’t have to perform like one to prove I belong.
And maybe that realization came after releasing a connection I held close. A friendship that mattered, even if it lived quietly in the background. This past week, something shifted, and I felt tired, not just from that situation, but from the year itself. It has been one of the most brutal years of loss, and also one of the most rewarding. That duality has been real.
I learned something big recently: some people appreciate what you do, and some people appreciate you. There is a difference. I feel that now in my bones.
On Rings, Timing, and Turning 36
And in the middle of all that, my son wanted another Halloween party, cupcakes, decorations, music, and we made it happen. Seeing him happy, seeing life still being life, even in transition, mattered. These small moments are part of this season, too.
Maybe that’s why I keep noticing rings lately, on fingers in class, at the gym, at events. Commitment, partnership, belonging. I even noticed little Halloween rings at home after our party, the kind I normally throw away without thinking, and suddenly I found one on my finger all day without realizing it. My body knows it’s time.
There’s something about turning 36 next year that feels like stepping toward a new chapter. I think it’s time, time to date, time to build, time to not do everything alone. I’m not someone who meets people through apps. Every meaningful relationship I’ve had started naturally, in person, as friendship first. And I’ve been fortunate, my relationships have ended kindly, respectfully, without harm. That is not lost on me, considering where I came from.
I went on a little date recently, and it was really fun. We both went home and told people about it. We keep saying we need to go on another one. It felt light. It felt good. I didn’t realize how much I missed simple joy, someone seeing you, someone you get to see back.
Lately I’ve noticed something interesting on my blog too, people aren’t just reading the finance posts. My personal pieces are climbing, especially my Cold Lamb Sandwiches and the Love I Believe In essay. It means something to see strangers gravitate toward that piece, the one where I talk about the kind of love that feels steady, loyal, chosen every day. Maybe it’s resonating because I’m stepping into that chapter now, the one where I’m not just building wealth, but preparing my life for someone who values the quiet parts of love too
For a long time, perfection left me no room for connection. No room for softness. No room to be held or to hold someone while I build. But this season, connection feels like part of the plan, not a distraction from it.
Building Wealth, Purpose, and Community
My blog has been read in over 80 countries now. Traffic keeps growing. I’ve been attending finance events like they’re oxygen. And honestly, I was falling in love at one of them, not with a person, but with the room. With the way people talked about money differently than the world assumes.
When most people hear “finance,” they imagine greed. But I heard legacy. I heard protection. I heard change. A man said, “When you take care of your finances, you can change lives.” A woman talked about loving her spreadsheets. And I felt it, that shared language. That shared vision of making sure the people you love are safe. That shared belief that money isn’t the point; what it allows you to do is.
If we want to change systems, we have to have a seat at the table inside them. If we want to elevate communities, we have to build wealth first, not for greed, but to have the leverage to do good. You change systems by being in the rooms where systems are shaped.
I never went to these events to meet someone, but I do wonder sometimes — people meet their partners in college. They meet them in rooms like these. Maybe I’ll meet mine too. I still plan on Boston. Harvard Extension. Becoming a CFP. But love and purpose deserve equal weight. There is Harvard the institution, and there is Harvard the love that life chooses to teach you when you’re ready.
Both matter.
Love, Loss, and Why I Took My Time
Part of why I paused dating wasn’t fear of commitment, it was grief. There were two people I held real affection for in my life. One I knew since middle school, two foster kids who always found each other again. Every time we reconnected, timing was off. When we finally aligned as adults, it was brief. Their life was taken violently, in a way that reminded me of an infamous TV scene from a popular TV Show where many people stopped watching because it hurt too much. It hurt too much for me, too.
The other was someone I once imagined expanding a family with. They tragically passed as well. Two futures that lived in the “almost,” gone before they could unfold. And then I lost my mentor this year. My anchor. My example of belief and possibility.
It shook me. It quieted me. It made me hold back from starting anything new, because when you’ve already grieved futures, the idea of opening up again feels like risking gravity.
But grief is also a teacher. And if life has taught me anything, it’s that I’d rather have ten beautiful years than twenty hollow ones. I’d rather risk love than avoid life.
Becoming
Despite everything, or maybe because of it, this year has been transformative. I graduated with my associate degree. I am here at UW Tacoma. I check the “college graduate” box now. I’m building something that belongs to me. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m hanging on, I feel like I’m constructing.
Rearranging furniture. Studying. Investing weekly. Raising my son. Attending finance events. Opening myself to connection. Letting go where I need to. Choosing rest without fear it means failure. Caring more about the life I’m building than the GPA printed on the way there.
This season feels like preparation. For partnership. For legacy. For a life of meaning instead of performance. I don’t have to do any of this with someone, I never have, but I would like to. I want to build a life that’s rich in more than wealth. I want to share it. Travel. Give back. Build a foundation bigger than myself.
I’m still here. Still building. Still showing up.
The season is changing, and so am I.
And I think, finally, I’m ready for what’s next.
This blog is read in 50+ countries (and counting). If you’re a student, teacher, or lifelong learner from anywhere in the world, I’m honored you’re here. Economics belongs to all of us.
The Broke College Student 
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