Everyday Victory

Minor victories are easy to overlook, especially when everyone around you insists you are making a mistake.

I was twenty years old, a junior in college majoring in communications, and deeply lonely. My parents did not approve of my boyfriend, Matthew. To them, he was just a poor guy, seven years older than me, already a teen parent, unemployed, and raised in poverty. But I fought for him. I chose to stay.

Matthew was my first boyfriend. We met after I created a dating profile during one of the many nights I spent depressed in my dorm room. My roommates and I did not get along, and all my friends were in relationships. I just wanted someone to love me. Within days, Matthew messaged me. After our very first date, I knew he was different. A week later, I told him I loved him. Our relationship blossomed quickly from there.

He came to meet my family on Christmas Eve. Everyone else seemed to like him, but my parents made their disapproval clear. A few months later, I found out I was pregnant. That only made things worse. My parents urged me to get an abortion, saying I was too young, that I barely knew him, and that I needed to finish college. I did not believe in abortion, and truthfully, I wanted the baby. But a month later, I had a miscarriage. I was devastated. All my parents could say was that it was for the best and that I would not ruin my life anymore.

That was the moment I decided I could no longer stay under their roof. Matthew and I chose to move in together into our first apartment in Atlantic City. It was far from perfect, infested with roaches, occasional mice, and located in a rough neighborhood, but it was ours. For the first time, we did not have to listen to anyone telling us how we should live.

At the time, choosing Matthew felt like a small victory. Everyone around me saw it as reckless. My parents saw a risky future. But I saw a kind, humble, hardworking man who made me feel truly special. He had survived through eight years of drug addiction and was only four months clean when we met. He was gentle with everyone, even giving his last dollar to homeless people on the street. He had never gone to college, but I encouraged him to enroll so he could become a drug and alcohol counselor, his dream.

Living with him taught me what no classroom could. I grew up privileged and used to look down on others from the lower class. Now I walked everywhere without a car. I learned humility, struggle, and Matthew’s strength. During my miscarriage, he set aside his pain to support me, always there, always caring.

Eight years later, that small victory of choosing to stay with him has become the foundation of my entire life.

We are now married. We have a beautiful son together. We own our own home and a car. Matthew is working toward his master's degree in social work and has built a successful career as a counselor. He has become the man he always wanted to be: a loving husband, a devoted father, a homeowner, and someone who helps others the way he once needed help.

If I had listened to my parents and walked away, I would have missed the love of my life. I never would have had my son. I never would have learned the lessons that made me a better person. I never would have known this kind of happiness.

Choosing Matthew did not feel like a big victory at the time. It felt like simply refusing to let go of someone I believed in. But that quiet choice changed everything. It taught me that the smallest decisions, especially the ones others do not understand, can quietly carry the greatest weight.

Sometimes the biggest blessings come from the moments when you simply choose to stay.