When I was a little girl in Romania, my mother used to tell me that strength is not just about enduring struggles—it’s about transforming them into something meaningful. She was my biggest inspiration, my guiding light, and the reason I dared to dream beyond borders.
She was also the reason I chose my path. After surviving a car accident, she had to rely on a physiotherapist for months to regain her strength. I saw her pain, her resilience, and the healing power of movement. That was the moment I knew—I wanted to become a physiotherapist, not just to help people walk again, but to help them find their own strength, just as my mother had found hers.
Studying abroad wasn’t an easy decision. My family didn’t have much, and in my home country, opportunities were scarce. But my mother believed in me. She knew that English had always been my passion, and she pushed me to pursue my studies abroad, where I could not only follow my dreams but also challenge myself in ways I never imagined.
The reality of being an international student hit me hard. The academic system was completely different from what I was used to, and the financial burden weighed heavily on me. There were days when I couldn’t afford the little luxuries other students took for granted. I worked in a clothing store to support myself, juggling late-night shifts with early-morning lectures. Some days, exhaustion threatened to take over. Some nights, I cried myself to sleep, wondering if I had made the right choice.
I almost gave up—almost. But my friends, my mother, and the fire inside me wouldn’t let me.
Then came the moment that made it all worth it. After years of relentless effort, I was accepted for an internship placement abroad. That was the day I realized: I was not just surviving—I was thriving.
But my journey wasn’t just about academic struggles. Being a woman in the field of physiotherapy came with its own battles. In Romania, physiotherapists are often seen as mere assistants, their expertise undermined, their roles belittled. I faced patients who saw me as nothing more than a young girl in a uniform. I was sexualized, dismissed, and treated as if I wasn’t capable. But I refused to let their words define me. Instead, I educated them. With every conversation, with every patient I helped, I fought for respect—not just for myself, but for every woman in this field who deserves to be recognized for her knowledge and skill.
To every young woman who dreams of stepping beyond her comfort zone: push yourself, even when the world tells you to stay still. You are more powerful than you think. Never forget the princess inside you—because she is not just waiting to be saved. She is waiting to rise.