If there is any overall message to get from my posts so far and my story (About Me), it’s that this road has not been easy. If you are travelling down a similar road and are hoping for me to tell you that it gets easier, I’m afraid I have to tell you that it does not. I am not saying this to discourage anyone, not by any means, but my whole thing is honesty, transparency, and stark realism. I don’t sugarcoat, and I don’t give any false hopes or expectations. It’s hard, it’s stressful, and you have to decide if it’s worth it. And speaking of honesty and stark realism, this is a post about money, which most adults (for some reason) are hesitant to ever talk about.

The other day the song “If I Had a Million Dollars” by the Barenaked Ladies started playing on the radio. I must have heard that song over 100 times in my life by now, but for some reason this time it really made me think. Money was one of the biggest barriers in me being able to go back to school. It’s interesting how fast you can make someone uncomfortable when you tell them you have no money, by the way. I would speak to professors and advisors and they would smile and nod.

They would tell me I’m a great candidate for the physics program based on my grades and judging by my work ethic. And then I would say something like “If only I could afford it,” and their smiles would fade, they would stammer something about student loans and credit, and then shuffle off. In many European countries, post-secondary education is free. But here in Canada, it costs thousands of dollars. It took me ten years of work to recover financially from my first attempt at university, not only making my way back from having absolutely nothing but also paying down the old student loans and bringing my credit back into good standing. And now here I am, once again incurring thousands and thousands of dollars of debt. Why? Because I decided it was worth it.

A lot of people would ask me: “Why not apply for scholarships?” To which I reply: “Have you looked at scholarships lately?” Almost every single scholarship out there has a caveat in the fine print, something along the lines of “For students entering post-secondary school for the first time.” For the first time. I saw those words so many times, they becaome a sort of mantra of despair. After a while I learned to just search for those words immediately when I opened up information on the scholarship. Guess how many scholarships I found I could apply for. One. And it wasn’t even one that I could apply for, it was the standard entrance scholarship that my university offers to every student based on their grades. It was $1,300 which is not nothing, but it didn’t even cover half of a semester. It also did not carry over to second year. At the end of my second year, my grades were high enough to earn me a spot on the Dean’s Honour List, which earned me another scholarship to apply toward my third year: $700. Hey, every little bit helps.

If I had a million dollars, I think the first thing I would do is set up a scholarship fund called Second Chance. And it would be for exactly who you think it’s for: people like me, who are having a second attempt at post-secondary education after the first attempt not working out for some reason. According to the Post-Study Survey, the 2024 national drop-out rate for post-secondary students in Canada was around 17%. The 2022 Canadian Student Wellbeing Survey found that more than 40 per cent of students said they were seriously considering dropping out (source). There are a lot of causes: money, feeling rushed into choosing a program, pressure, stress. The point is, I’m not as alone as I initially thought in not succeeding the first time around. Based on these numbers alone, the lack of help apart from the government student loan programs and private lines of credits from banks is astounding (and fun fact, I’m getting LESS student loan funding now than I did in 2008 despite things costing at least twice as much now). I have had to delay my graduation by at least a year this time around by adding co-op work terms to my program, simply so I can afford to make it to graduate. But anyway, I bit the bullet, got the line of credit, signed up for the government loans, and entered the program.

Then in my first year I realized that I needed some accommodations for what I suspected was some neurodivergence as I was struggling significantly more than my classmates, expecially in exams. I won’t get into too much detail here about that process, as I plan to write a separate post about it, but needless to say in order to get accommodations I needed to be formally diagnosed.

There are a lot of funding programs out there for children to get assessed, but not a lot for adults. The only way for an adult to get a publicly funded assessment where I live is to go through an organization called The Centre for Addictions and Mental Health. There is a two year waiting list. I had to make a decision. Two years meant no help with tests or exams, and possibly burning out again halfway through this program. So I paid for a private assessment. It was around $3,000 and still took around 16 months to complete. But I got the verdict: Autism and ADHD. I got set up with accommodations, and I’ve been doing much better. But… If I had a million dollars… The second thing I would do is set up a fund to help adults with medical expenses.

Especially after another medical expense came up very recently. I am hearing impaired, but my hearing was okay enough to get by for most of my adult life so far. As a kid I had hearing aids, and those were publicly funded so they did not cost thousands of dollars.

Guess who doesn’t get that public funding? Adults. My hearing got worse in the last year and I was struggling to hear lectures, so I needed to get new hearing aids. The government has a fund to kick in a maximum of $500 per device, leaving me with a balance to pay of $4,500. I had no choice but to start a GoFundMe. I found it absolutely galling that I had to beg for money and crowd source my ability to hear, but that was the reality. I swallowed my pride, put myself out there, and thanks to the incredible generosity of many people, I can hear. If I had a million dollars…

The point of this post, I guess, is to tell you that if you’re travelling down a similar path as me, it’s going to be hard. There are not a lot of resources available for people like us out there. But there are some, they exist. And if you ever need help finding them, I’d be more than willing to help. Feel free to Contact Me. But sometimes the only answer is that there is no answer. And if that is the case, know that I am here for support. I have been there, I am doing it, and I’m surviving. You can, too. You are not alone.