By: Charity Keith

My journey began in the shadow of neglect. Taken from my birth parents at nine months old and adopted at four, I craved love but instead found emotional and mental abuse. Those early years were filled with confusion and longing, a yearning for affection that was often met with harshness and indifference.

At twelve, I had a vivid vision that stayed with me long after I regained consciousness. I was riding my bike on a hot summer day when a car struck me. Suddenly, I was walking down a long road with a stranger, heading toward a hole filled with light. He said to me, "The light is deeper than the hole." When I woke up in an ambulance, disoriented but strangely calm, I carried that image with me. It felt as though, even then, something deep inside knew I had a long road ahead, filled with both hardship and hope. That dream became a quiet whisper, urging me to find strength, even when the obstacles seemed insurmountable.

A misdiagnosis at fourteen labeled me with a mild intellectual disability. For years, I accepted that label, and for a long time, it felt like higher education just wasn't in the cards for me. Because of my mental health struggles and severe anxiety, college seemed like an impossible mountain to climb. My first attempt at a younger age was derailed by these challenges, and I began to think I’d never break free from the limits others had placed on me.

But at age 32, something shifted. I decided I was tired of just getting by on SSI; I wanted to truly do something with my life. I decided to test the limits of possibility and give college another try. I discovered Ashford University (what we now know as UAGC), and because sitting in a physical classroom with social anxiety felt too daunting, the online format was the perfect fit.

It wasn't just about the classes; it was about finally being seen for my potential instead of my labels. I worked with the Office of Student Access and Wellness to set up accommodations that honored my ADHD and mental health needs. My teachers were incredibly patient, and one instructor in my Abnormal Psychology class even compared me to Einstein, noting that having a disability didn't stop him from being brilliant. That class changed my entire perspective—I started seeing my journey not as a "brokenness," but as a different way of processing a very intelligent mind.

I discovered the truth about myself during those years: I had dyscalculia and ADHD, but I refused to be defined by them. In 2017, I achieved what once felt impossible, earning my Bachelor’s degree in Child Development and graduating Cum Laude. I was even inducted into Delta Alpha Pi, the international honor society for students with disabilities. That achievement gave me a new kind of self-confidence. I realized that if I could graduate with honors, I could handle anything.

With that newfound fire, I returned to Ashford for my Master’s in Special Education. I wanted to use my experience to help others navigate the same systems I had survived. I graduated in 2021 with a 3.90 GPA, proving once and for all that the labels from my childhood were wrong.

But just as I celebrated this achievement, life threw me a devastating blow: a stroke. The hospital room became a blur as cognitive dysfunction clouded my mind. I struggled to form words, to grasp simple concepts that once felt so natural. Fear gnawed at me. Would I recover? Would I ever feel like myself again?

As if the first stroke weren’t enough, in the spring of 2023, two more strokes struck—this time masked as a seven-week migraine. They targeted my occipital lobe, stealing half my vision. Then, in March 2025, I faced my most significant challenge yet: a major left parietal lobe MCA CVA stroke. The world around me began to shrink, and the fear was real. How would I continue my life’s work? Would my dreams of becoming a psychologist be forever out of reach?

There were moments when I felt lost, but even in the wreckage, a spark ignited within me. Neuroplasticity—my brain’s ability to heal and rewire itself—became my lifeline. I embraced it fully. After only two months off to recover from the 2025 stroke, I did the unthinkable: I went back to school. I jumped straight into a Biological Bases of Behavior class—a rigorous neurobiology course—and I earned an A. My final paper for that class was deeply personal, focusing on neuroplasticity and using AI as a tool for biofeedback to recover language after a stroke.

I didn't stop there. I went on to earn another A in my Psychopharmacology class, and I am currently nearing completion of my Psychopathology course with another A in sight. I realized that my true passion lay in understanding the human mind and its ability to heal. I also came to understand that many of the labels I carried, like Bipolar and BPD, were actually a mental injury from the trauma I had survived—CPTSD.

Neuroplasticity wasn’t just a concept I studied; it became my personal mantra. It taught me that even the deepest wounds, whether physical or emotional, could begin to heal. I want to help others discover that power within themselves, just as I have.

Two years ago, a spiritual awakening profoundly shifted my perspective. I had always believed in the possibility of change, but this experience opened me up to a sense of hope and possibility that I had never known. I started seeing every challenge as an opportunity to grow, to evolve, and to push the boundaries of what I thought was possible. It was as though the universe had whispered to me, reminding me that my journey had purpose—that my struggles were leading me somewhere greater than I could have imagined.

And through it all, my three kitties—Mr. Noel, Callie Smudge, and Baby Bella Bean—have been my constant companions, offering unconditional love and support. They were there during the darkest moments, curling up beside me when the world felt too heavy to bear. Their presence reminded me that love, in its purest form, has a way of grounding us and giving us the strength to keep going.

By sharing my story, I hope to inspire others to embrace their own challenges and never give up on their dreams. My journey has been anything but easy, but it has been mine—filled with setbacks, triumphs, and a deep belief that no matter what happens, we always have the capacity to rise again.

Just as the 🐦‍🔥 Phoenix rises from the flame, so can we, my friends!