Pray Eat Slay

There’s something strange about being this close to the finish line. For years, school has been part of my routine. Late nights, discussion posts, projects, group assignments, random moments of panic, and somehow still showing up to work, being a mom, and trying to keep life moving. Now I officially have one more week left before my capstone is over, and honestly, I don’t even know how to feel. Part of me is excited for the freedom. The thought of not opening my laptop every night sounds unreal. No deadlines hanging over my head. No discussion boards due at 11:59 p.m. Just the chance to finally breathe for a second.

But another part of me is nervous.

Because the moment one chapter ends, another one starts. I keep thinking about this next season of my life. Taking extra classes. Building something bigger for myself. Trying to step into tech, coding, and all the goals I’ve been talking about for years. Then the doubts start creeping in. Am I actually good enough? Will I really make it? Or will I become another Black woman carrying everything on her back until she’s completely exhausted?

That thought has been sitting heavy on my mind lately.

The crazy part is life does not slow down just because you are stressed. Tomorrow is a holiday, and instead of relaxing, your girl will be outside cutting grass, doing two heads, and somewhere in between trying to stop procrastinating long enough to work on my capstone project. Real life does not care that I’m overwhelmed. The laundry still needs to be folded. Bills still need to be paid. The dog still wants attention. My teenager still needs summer plans that won’t completely destroy my bank account.

And that part has honestly been stressing me out too.

Summer is coming fast, and I’m trying to figure out how to give my child experiences, fun, and memories while still being financially responsible. I have about $4,000 in savings, and in today’s economy that does not feel like some huge safety net. It feels like one unexpected expense could humble you real quick.

Still, I’m proud of myself.

Even with all the stress, I’m still moving forward. Maybe not perfectly. Maybe not gracefully. But forward anyway. And I think that counts for something. Sometimes survival does not look inspirational. Sometimes it looks like a tired mom with a lawn mower, a laptop full of unfinished work, and a brain running on caffeine and determination.

But she’s still going.