Grown from Pain, Alive in Acceptance

 

Her name is Ola. Since childhood, she has been accustomed to living under strict discipline and a structured daily routine. She spent five years at a boarding school on the outskirts of a small town, where the call to prayer served as a reminder of time, and memorization was a daily ritual. Ola’s world was filled with religious texts, the advice of her teachers, and lengthy discussions about Islamic jurisprudence. But amidst the pages of tafsir and hadith, Ola quietly harbored one dream: to study English Literature.

For Ola, language is a window. She loved how words could shape the world, how poetry could whisper pain, and how novels could serve as an escape from the harsh realities of life. But her dream was no easy feat. In the world where she grew up, English Literature was not the primary choice. And the world of higher education... was too far removed from what she knew. While her friends were busy applying for college after graduation, Ola joined a service program at a boarding school. For a full year, she became a mentor to younger students, teaching, organizing schedules, and dedicating herself wholeheartedly. It wasn’t an easy decision. She knew she would fall behind.

The following year, when she was finally ready to pursue her college dreams, the world had changed. The student admission system was divided into two categories: science and social sciences. And English Literature, her dream major, was under social sciences. The problem was, Ola had never truly studied geography, modern history, or economics. Even mathematics, which had always been her Achilles’ heel, now had to be faced again. She wasn’t an ordinary high school student equipped with the national curriculum and system. She was just in a boarding school with stacks of religious books and a set of dreams that were too big.

Yet Ola didn’t give up. Every morning, she sat alone in her small dorm room, reading a collection of practice questions her mother had borrowed from a neighbor. She memorized economic terms foreign to her ears, studied maps and the history of the Industrial Revolution, and solved basic math problems with eraser marks all over the pages. There was no teacher. No tutoring. No friends to ask. Only her and the relentless passage of time. Sometimes she felt tired. Often bored. And not infrequently, she wanted to give up and return to the comfortable world she once knew. But that dream kept calling her, faint yet certain.

“At least I tried,” she thought to herself.

Until finally, the day arrived. The college entrance exam. Her breath was short as she entered the exam room. Her hands were cold. When the questions were distributed, Ola stared at each page of the questions displayed on the computer screen as if she were reading her own destiny. Ready? No. Not entirely. But life doesn’t wait for readiness. Ready or not, everything must still be faced. She took a deep breath, gripped the pencil, and began to write. Whatever the outcome, Ola knew one thing: she had fought. And sometimes, that struggle itself was enough to make her small steps meaningful. From the start, Ola knew that the exam was like challenging the heavens. She worked on it while constantly reminding herself: “It's okay to fail, as long as you try.” Not because she was pessimistic, but because reality was far from ideal. Imagine this: a student who had spent years immersed in the rhythm of classical texts had to compete with high school students who had been honed by national exams and private tutoring everywhere. So, when the results were announced, she stared at the computer screen with her friends calmly or tried to stay calm. And sure enough, she failed.

But Ola isn’t the type to give up easily. She tried other paths. One by one. Apply. Take the exam. Fail. Apply again. Pray without ceasing. Hope still exists, though it grows thinner. Until finally, the last opportunity came. A path with slim chances, but she still tried. And… the miracle happened. Her name was listed on the admission roster…. She was accepted at her dream university. In the department that had always filled her dreams. English Literature. That’s where Ola imagined herself growing up reading Shakespeare in the corner of the library, discussing the meaning of Sylvia Plath’s poetry, and writing essays about the world she wanted to understand more deeply through words. But that happiness was short-lived. When the tuition details were revealed, Ola and her parents fell silent for a long time. The amount was far beyond what they had imagined. It wasn’t just expensive, it was unaffordable. Ola knew her father worked hard every day running a small grocery store, and her mother sewed clothes for neighbors to earn extra income. But this… this was like a dream too expensive to realize.

They tried to find solutions. Loans. Scholarships. Assistance. But everything hit a dead end. Because the application period for financial aid was only one day, and that wasn’t enough time to gather all the necessary documents. And finally, with a heavy heart, Ola had to decide she couldn’t even bring herself to say aloud: leaving the campus and her dream major. Three days. Three nights. She cried in silence. In her small room. Under the prayer mat. In her mother’s embrace. Her heart was shattered, like crumpled paper tossed by the wind. Not because she failed. But because she had reached it, touched that door, and was forced to step back. But perhaps life hadn’t finished shaping Ola yet. Because sometimes, a delayed dream isn’t a failed dream. Maybe it just needs a longer path. Maybe Ola hasn’t entered her dream university yet, but she has learned about perseverance, about acceptance, and about how dreams can still live on, even if they don’t immediately become reality. Because Ola knows she’s still walking.

After days filled with tears and disappointment, Ola's spirit collapsed. She began to doubt everything—her dreams, her choices, even herself. She felt like she was walking in thick fog, without direction. It felt heavy to think about college again, as if the path to the future had been completely closed off.

She once thought, “Maybe college isn't for me.”

However, as her spirit faded, her parents refused to give up. They continued to discuss possibilities, constantly mentioning the future that could still be pursued. They didn't force her, but they also didn't let her wallow in despair for too long. They believed their child was simply tired, not giving up.

One afternoon, her cousin came to visit. They sat on the porch, enjoying sweet tea and the evening breeze. The casual conversation took an unexpected turn when her cousin said,

“Do you know Untag Surabaya, Ola? They have an English Literature program there, and it’s accredited with an A. It’s good; many of my friends study there and are satisfied with the learning system.”

The name was unfamiliar to Ola. But that night, for the first time in a long while, she opened her laptop and began researching. Slowly, a small flame reignited within her. Not as big as before, not as bold as when she was accepted into her dream university but it was enough. Enough to take the first step. She applied. She was accepted. And in the end, Ola officially became an English Literature student at Untag Surabaya. However, accepting reality wasn’t something that happened overnight.

When orientation began, Ola mingled with hundreds of new students. She joined HIMA activities, tried to join a suitable student club, and was even asked to lead a literacy session at one of the campus meetings. But behind all those activities, she still harbored one feeling, shame. Shame because she felt this wasn’t the place she belonged. Shame because she still couldn’t accept the reality that she wasn’t studying at the university she had once dreamed of. Even when someone asked, “Where are you studying?” she would only smile or answer half-heartedly. As if answering meant admitting defeat, though it wasn’t.

Every night, Ola often asks herself, “Did I make a mistake? Is this really my path?”. But life, like a river, keeps flowing. And even though she hasn’t reached the ocean she desires, Ola knows she’s learning to swim, learning to be strong, learning to survive. Maybe she doesn’t feel proud yet. Perhaps she can’t yet speak the name of her university with her head held high. But one day, when she stands at a new point, she will realize one thing: this journey—so difficult and winding is the strongest part of her story. Because Ola is still walking. And with each step, she is no longer alone, she is with hope, and slowly, with acceptance.

And now, she is in this phase, her sixth semester. Time flies so quickly. Suddenly, she is no longer the shy girl who used to walk her head down when mentioning her university's name. She is now an active student busy with organizational activities, academic assignments, and projects with her professors. Around her are friends who are not only study partners but also a small family that makes her days lighter.

She laughs more often now. She walks through the campus corridors with a confident stride. She sits in class with an enthusiastic gaze, discusses with professors she admires, and writes essays with a deep love for what she studies. Sometimes, amidst her busyness, Ola pauses for a moment. She looks around the classroom, the garden, the hallway, the cafeteria corner filled with laughter. Places that once felt foreign now feel like a second home. She begins to realize something: she has accepted, even come to love, the life she once rejected outright.

She once cried because she couldn’t get into her dream university. But now, she realizes, maybe this isn’t a backup university. This is her destined university. The place where she is shaped. The place where she grows. And now, as time continues to roll toward the final semester, she begins to imagine one thing that makes her chest feel tight: life without all of this.

Without the laughter of friends on the faculty building courtyard. Without the sound of footsteps on the campus stairs as she rushes to class. Without the warm smile of a professor greeting her as they pass by. Without the organization, without the all-nighters for essay competitions, without the language discussions that made her lose track of time.

“What will my life be like after this?” she thought softly.

For the first time, Ola was afraid not because of an uncertain future, but because leaving the present, which had made her feel whole was so difficult. But she knew, just as she had once taken those heavy steps to this place, she must now be ready to walk again. Not because she wanted to leave, but because her time had come. And one thing was certain, she would never forget that the campus she once hated had become the most beautiful part of her life’s journey.