My Journey

Hi network!

I was hesitant to post this, and I know I'm late to this, but I thought better late than never!

I want to share my journey and thought this would be a great first post, so I can continue to share my future achievements with you all. I'm incredibly proud to share my journey of perseverance, resilience, and determination, which has led me to achieve D*D*D in my BTEC Business Level 3 Extended Diploma. this achievement represents so much more than academic success, its a testament to the challenges I've overcome, not just as a student, but as an individual.

Five years ago, at the age of 12, I immigrated to the UK from Iran with my family. I didn't speak a word of English. I was placed in year 9, even though I had missed two years of education in Iran. The language barrier was daunting, I was given an iPad to communicate since I couldn't understand or speak English. Despite the fact that I had no additional English support or lessons, I was expected to keep up with my classmates. It was overwhelming, and there were many times I felt completely lost. On top of everything already being difficult, the lack of emotional and academic support made things even harder for me. My uncles constantly undermined me, by saying things like ''without us, you will end up no where'' and ''You could've learned that in Iran'' when I started to practice English words and sentences. It felt like a constant battle to prove myself, not just to them, but everyone around me. At home, life was equally challenging. me, my mum and brother lived in a one-bedroom flat with my dad that had no basic necessities such as hot water, no wash machine, and no real stability. My family didn't support my ambitions, and I had to find the motivation within myself to keep going.

After being relocated to Enfield, my situation took a turn for the worse as I enrolled in Oasis Academy Enfield in Year 10 with limited English skills. Despite my constant efforts to practice and connect with peers, I faced relentless bullying due to my language barrier. My attempts to report the harassment were dismissed by teachers who overlooked the history of trouble among the involved students.Feeling isolated and misunderstood, I struggled emotionally, crying nightly from the pain of being targeted. Even when my mother, despite her limited English, came to the school to address the issue, the staff advised her not to return, leaving me without support. This challenging experience fueled my resilience and determination to overcome adversity.

Through all of this, I still went to school every single day. Even when I was sick, I forced myself to attend because I believed education was my only way out of this situation. I have developed this habit of always attending school even when I was sick so I don't miss my lessons. After enduring this torment for the entire school year, the council finally moved me to another school, Enfield County School for Girls.

I started there toward the end of Year 10, but soon after, the pandemic hit, and everything moved online. I was relieved that the bullying had stopped in this new school, but the challenges continued in a different way. I had no understanding of the UK’s education system. I didn’t know what GCSEs were or how crucial they were to my future, nor did I know anything about A-levels. My parents, who didn’t speak English, were also unfamiliar with the system, so I had to figure everything out on my own.

Despite all this, I found comfort in my love for art. I chose it as one of my subjects and poured my energy into it. However, during the rest of my lessons, I struggled. Learning about new subjects in a language I had to forcefully learn, and memorisation it felt overwhelming. I didn’t understand the context, and I didn’t know how to study effectively. I felt completely lost, while at home, my parents’ constant arguments added to the chaos. Since arriving in the UK, I had never felt at home in any of the places we lived. Every house felt temporary, like a box I was confined to, rather than a place of safety or comfort.

Living under this constant pressure made those years the hardest of my life. My parents wanted to keep me isolated, confined to the house. Anytime I wanted to go out, they would interrogate me with endless questions and discourage me by saying, "Why do you even want to go out? Just stay at home." To them, an ideal daughter was someone who stayed quiet, invisible, and obedient. But I refused to live like that. Instead, I pushed myself to go out and explore the city. I would take the trains and learn the routes around London, familiarising myself with the place I now called home. Looking back, I’m proud of myself for doing that because it gave me the independence and confidence I needed to navigate life here.

Throughout all the chaos at home, art became my escape. It was the one thing that kept me grounded and gave me a sense of peace. In Year 11, I poured myself into my art projects. I found joy and purpose in creating something, even when my grades in other subjects suffered due to the immense pressure I was under. The trauma and stress I was experiencing at home made it difficult for me to focus and retain information, often leading to memory loss. Despite these challenges,I would spend hours working on my art, carefully perfecting each detail, hoping for a moment of recognition. But when I showed it to my dad, seeking just a bit of validation, he barely glanced at it, leaving me feeling unseen. His response was always dismissive: "It’s okay." It crushed me every time, until I realised I didn’t need his approval anymore. I began to admire my own work, celebrating my effort and progress on my own. I stopped looking for validation from him and learned to find pride in myself. This was a pivotal moment for me, as I learned to value my own achievements, even when others didn’t. Despite everything, I found strength in myself, and that determination would continue to fuel me through the challenges ahead.

When I decided I wanted to pursue architecture, I had no idea where to start, so I approached my teachers for guidance. They told me I needed to achieve at least a grade 7 in both math and art to pursue that path. Art was my passion, so I felt confident about that, but when it came to math, I faced a significant challenge. I was in a foundation set, where the highest grade I could achieve was a 5. I was already receiving tutoring for math outside of school, and the material in class felt too easy for me. I knew I could do more, so I requested to be moved up to a higher set.

The next day, they gave me an unexpected test, without any time to prepare. When I asked why they didn’t give me a chance to study, their response was dismissive: "Well, you said you're getting tutoring, so you should be ready anytime." It felt unfair, but I still gave it my best. Unfortunately, I didn’t score enough points to move up. Determined not to give up, I reached out to the head of the math department, explaining my plans and ambitions to become an architect. I hoped this would finally be a turning point, someone would finally support my goals. But instead of encouragement, his response crushed me: "You’ll never be able to do higher math, and it’s impossible for you to become an architect." His words were disheartening, and it felt like yet another obstacle in a journey that had already been full of them. But something inside me refused to accept his judgment. I asked for another chance, and though my hope was fading, I kept pushing.

Eventually, my teachers gave me two more opportunities to prove myself. By that point, I felt almost hopeless, but I sat those exams, not expecting much. Then one day, as I was heading to my math class, my teacher stopped me and said, "Anahita, you've been moved to the higher set." At first, I couldn’t believe it, I asked her to repeat herself because I was sure I had misheard. But it was real. I had done it. I was finally moving up to a higher set, and I was ecstatic. As I walked through the hallway toward my new classroom, I passed the head of the math department, the same man who told me I couldn’t do it. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. That moment filled me with a sense of pride that I hadn’t felt before. Despite being told I wasn’t capable, I had proved them wrong.

Unfortunately, I had been moved up late in the year, when the class was already focused on practicing past papers for the final exams. I hadn’t had the chance to properly learn the material in class, but that didn’t stop me. I studied tirelessly on my own, determined to make up for lost time. That experience taught me an invaluable lesson: never let anyone’s doubt define your potential. Even when I was told I couldn’t achieve something, I kept pushing forward and made it happen. I’ve learnt that when others tell you something is impossible, it’s up to you to prove them wrong, and I will continue to do just that as I move forward in my journey.

One day, while I was out with a friend, my mum called me home urgently. I didn’t think much of it at first, as such calls were common in my household. When I got home, she explained that my dad had slapped her repeatedly and thrown his phone at my brother. Sadly, I wasn’t shocked, this kind of abuse had been a constant part of our lives for so long that it had become normalised. The next day, my mum went to the hospital due to severe pain, but after waiting for hours without being seen, she returned home. Shortly after, the police arrived, questioning why she left. We were terrified and begged them to leave, fearing my dad’s retaliation if he saw them. He was in the garden at the time, more focused on his pigeons than us. The officers refused, warning, "Today it’s a slap; tomorrow it might be a knife." That moment made me fully grasp just how dangerous our situation had become.

The police arrested my dad on the spot for domestic violence. We were taken to the police station, where we spent nearly 10 hours in a cold, stark room. There was no food or water, and I was simply left to wait as they took my mum’s and brother’s statements. The entire experience felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. I was overwhelmed, sitting there wondering how my life had come to this. I remember thinking, for the first time, that I wished I didn’t have a father. After my dad’s arrest, I was too scared to return home. The fear that he might come back to hurt us was constant. I didn’t know how I managed to sleep that night or any of the nights that followed.

The next day, my uncles, who lived in Birmingham, drove down to our home and began stalking us. They were sending people to watch our house, ensuring that we didn’t move or hide somewhere else. The pressure was immense, we had to move yet again, this time for our safety. It felt like I couldn’t escape the chaos. Every day, I was afraid to go to school, and any man who even slightly resembled my father made my heart race in fear. I constantly looked over my shoulder, wondering if someone was following me, never able to feel truly safe. I remember asking myself every day, "Why do I have to go through this?" No one deserves to live in fear of their own family. Yet, despite everything, I kept going. I attended school, pursued my dreams, and didn’t allow the trauma to derail my ambitions. Looking back, I realise that these experiences have made me resilient. They have shaped me into someone who refuses to give up, no matter how difficult life gets.

After a while, we were relocated from Enfield to Feltham. This move came with a new set of challenges, as Feltham was incredibly far from my school. I found myself commuting for three hours each way, three hours to get to school, and three hours to return home. All of this was happening during the most critical time of my academic life: my GCSEs. The physical and mental exhaustion I felt was overwhelming. I was waking up at 5am to catch the train and wouldn’t return home until 8pm, only to repeat the cycle the next day. Despite this, I never missed a day of school. Quitting crossed my mind more than once, but I knew I couldn’t give up. To make things even harder, the house had no proper shower, and during the freezing winter months, we had no heating. Every day felt like a new struggle, but despite it all, I pushed through and completed my GCSEs, even when the odds were stacked against me.

When it came time to apply for A-levels, I had no idea how the system worked or how to apply. I felt lost, navigating everything on my own without any guidance. However, I was fortunate enough to be accepted as a late applicant at St Charles Catholic Sixth Form College. At that moment, I felt like Allah had finally opened a door for me after all the hardship I had endured. But the challenges didn’t stop there. Even though I had been accepted, I was still facing the same grueling commute, three hours to college and three hours back home. The exhaustion was taking its toll. We constantly begged the council to move us to a location closer to my school, and eventually, my persistence paid off. We were moved to a new area, much closer to the college, which was a huge relief.

During this time, my brother and mum were also going through a court case due to the domestic violence we had experienced at the hands of my dad. My uncles, in an attempt to shield my dad from punishment, lied in court, claiming that he had mental health issues to prevent him from going to jail. My mum tried to explain to the judge that this wasn’t an isolated incident, that we had been subjected to years of abuse, both mental and physical. However, because much of this abuse took place outside of the UK, the judge’s response was, “Since there’s no proof, and it happened in another country, there’s nothing we can do.” Hearing that was devastating. How could we provide proof for years of emotional trauma, for the fear and pain we had lived with every day? That experience was a turning point for me. It was in that moment that I decided I wanted to become a lawyer. I wanted to help families like mine, families who were facing injustice and trauma but had no one to turn to. I didn’t want anyone to feel as alone as I did during those dark times, with no one to cry to, no one to lean on.

Despite everything we told the court about how dangerous my father was, and how he was still trying to find us to exact revenge, they let him go. He’s out there, living his life, while we continue to live in fear. But I won’t let that define my future. I’m determined to turn my pain into purpose, to fight for justice, and to ensure that no one else has to face what my family and I went through. This part of my journey strengthened my resolve to pursue law, not only as a career but as a way to give back, to advocate for those who can’t advocate for themselves. This has become my mission, and I am determined to make a difference.

When we finally moved into the new house, which, once again, had no hot water and felt as cold as a freezer, we thought we could finally start to settle down. But just as things seemed to calm down, a new problem arose. My mum went to enroll my brother in school, and while they were out, they suddenly saw my dad in the area. It was a terrifying moment. After everything we had been through, the council had placed us in a location dangerously close to where my dad lived. I can’t even imagine what would’ve happened if he had seen us that day. We immediately contacted the council, explaining the danger we were in, and after a month of living in fear, they moved us again. But the move did little to ease our minds. My dad was still out there, free to roam, and the fear of running into him never went away. Everywhere I went, I was constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering if today would be the day he found us. The emotional toll of living like this was overwhelming.

For my little brother, the fear became overwhelming. He completely withdrew from the outside world, refusing to leave the house because he was too terrified to step out the door. It broke my heart to see him trapped by fear, but I had no choice, I had to keep going to college. Every day, I pushed myself to attend, despite the anxiety that followed me wherever I went. The emotional and mental strain of constantly being on edge, knowing that my dad could appear at any moment, weighed heavily on me. But I refused to let it stop me from pursuing my education. I was determined to rise above the circumstances, even though the trauma was still fresh, and the fear of what could happen next was always present.

College was the only time in my UK education that felt somewhat stable. Despite drama from other students, I stayed focused, kept up with my assignments, maintained 100% attendance, and stayed punctual. Consistency was key, and looking back, I’m proud of how much I grew through it all. By Year 13, I became fully committed to my studies. I discovered effective study methods, and my grades soared. Originally predicted DDM, I worked tirelessly, aiming higher, and ultimately achieved D*DD as my current grade. On results day, I was overjoyed to learn I had the highest grades in my class, surpassing even the top students. It was a moment of immense pride, knowing how far I had come despite the challenges.

What made this achievement even more meaningful was that I no longer sought validation from others. I had grown confident in my abilities and knew my success came from hard work and perseverance. My teacher even hinted I might achieve D*D*D, which filled me with joy, knowing how much effort I had put in. It was a turning point in my life, proving that no matter the challenges, I could rise above and succeed. On results day, I felt surprisingly calm, knowing I’d be proud no matter the outcome because I had given it my all. When I opened my results and saw D*D*D in my BTEC Level 3 Extended Diploma in Business, I was overwhelmed with happiness and pride. It wasn’t just about the grades, it was about the journey, the countless hours of studying, and the determination to push through every challenge.

Year 13 was challenging, not only because of my studies but also the university application process. Writing my personal statement was tough, and the advice I received felt generic, so I took charge and wrote it myself. Inspired by the Iranian film Maghz Hay Kochak Zang Zadeh (Sheeple), which left a lasting impact on me. The film, combined with my personal experience of facing injustice within the UK court system, solidified my decision to pursue a career in law. Despite my fear of rejection, I applied to several universities while also exploring solicitor apprenticeships. To my surprise, within a week , I received offers from all the universities I applied to. It was a proud moment, knowing that the personal statement I had written from the heart had resonated with admissions officers.

I accepted an offer from Kingston University to study Law (LLB), but my goal remains to secure a solicitor apprenticeship. After much thought, I decided to take a gap year to focus on applying for the 2025 intake. Looking back, I’m proud of how far I’ve come. The 12-year-old me, who arrived in this country five years ago, could never have imagined achieving so much. My journey of patience, resilience, and persistence has shaped who I am today. I hope my story inspires others to stay determined and pursue their dreams, no matter the obstacles.