In a candid reflection on her academic journey, Nomvula Radebe shares the challenges and triumphs that shaped her unconventional path to qualifying as a dietician. A resilient young woman hailing from Bethlehem, a small town in the Free State, Nomvula defied expectations and overcame a myriad of obstacles to achieve her dream of becoming a dietitian.

"Could never be me." Those were the words I would have scoffed at in 2018 if you had told me I'd be graduating after six years instead of the expected four. I believe any typical A-student fresh from high school would've echoed the same sentiment. I'm Nomvula Radebe, a young black woman born and raised in Bethlehem, a small town in the Free State. This is my story.

Being the eldest daughter in a single-parent household became my reality after my parents' divorce when I was 10. Raised with my mother and younger brother, I also took on the role of a 'deputy parent,' as they say on social media, for my three younger siblings. The pressures were heightened because of my position as the eldest, particularly as the eldest daughter, and coming from a low-to-medium socioeconomic class.

Academically, I was fortunate never to face significant struggles during my primary and secondary schooling. Each term, when the report came, my father would eagerly ask, "How many distinctions this time around?" It was always more than four, setting the bar for what was expected when I entered the University of Pretoria in 2018.

That year became a chapter titled "Failing and Finding God" in my life. Despite my initial confidence, considering I had never failed academically, I was diagnosed with depression later that year. Antidepressants and sessions with a professional therapist at the student counseling center on campus became part of my routine.

My world crumbled for multiple reasons. An abusive relationship took a toll on my mental health, and I found myself failing dismally. My father's inquiries shifted from distinctions to questioning if I at least achieved a 50%. I discovered the harsh reality that studying and preparing for weeks in advance didn't guarantee success. I grappled to attain 50s, a stark contrast to my A-student history.

The first module I failed in my first year was Chemistry, a prerequisite for many second-year modules, resulting in a year-long delay. With the help of God, a faculty student advisor, extra lessons, and ongoing therapy, I regained confidence and successfully passed the module.

My academic third year brought unforeseen challenges, including moderate memory loss at the beginning of the year. Forgetfulness plagued me, impacting both my personal and academic life. Another failed prerequisite module led to an additional year's delay. Following up with a neurologist revealed epileptic seizures during my sleep, leading to a subsequent diagnosis of ADHD and Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder.

Juggling multiple medications, I grappled with what people call "pill fatigue," feeling drained by the daily routine to function normally. Venting to my guardian lecturer and the Human Nutrition department's HOD provided both professional and motherly support. Advised by my therapist, I applied for a time concession at the university's disability unit, securing accommodations for tests, assessments, and exams.

Writing this story now, a year since my diagnoses and a month away from my oathtaking ceremony, I realize it took me six years to complete a four-year degree. With the support of God, my supportive mother, therapist, neurologist, guardian lecturer, the department's HOD, medication, and a robust support structure from close friends and the university's disability unit, I look back with no regrets. The imperfect story I've shared taught me invaluable lessons and skills crucial for interacting with patients from diverse backgrounds, ages, races, and mental abilities.

I learned to be patient and kind to myself, redefined the true meaning of self-love, recognized that I am more than my academic accolades, and, last but not least, understood that being delayed doesn't mean being denied. I am Nomvula Radebe, a soon-to-be dietitian, and this is my story of triumph.