I wrote this piece to celebrate, in a small way, one of my little achievements in 2022, while also reflecting on the past few years of my life.

Alhamdulillah, after all the twists and turns of pursuing my master’s degree, I officially graduated from the Master’s Programme in Communication Studies at the University of Indonesia on December 21, 2022, earning a Master of Science degree.

When I think about it, the whole journey still feels a little unreal. I didn’t pursue a master’s degree simply to gain new knowledge. In many ways, it was also about overcoming my own fears—and that persistent voice telling me, “I can’t do this.”

In many of my writings on this blog, I often say that God has the best plans for us. I’ve experienced this time and time again: the failures I’ve faced have often led me somewhere far more fitting, bringing me the same happiness and fulfilment I had once hoped for.

One of the decisions I’m most grateful for in 2021 was letting go of my ambition to study abroad and applying for a master’s degree at UI instead. It may not have been the same experience, but I’m grateful that I didn’t put off pursuing a master’s degree for too long—before the motivation faded and life became filled with other things that needed my attention.

Since then, I’ve come to believe that perhaps studying abroad simply wasn’t meant for me. But at UI, I found what I needed. I genuinely enjoyed the subjects I studied, which challenged me to think more deeply and critically. The lecturers were brilliant and always interesting to talk to. I also met so many incredible people, including friends whose expertise in their respective fields eventually opened doors to new opportunities in my life.

And, Alhamdulillah, I was able to fulfil my hope of completing the programme in roughly a year and a half. Perhaps studying abroad would have been more exciting or enjoyable, but what I experienced at UI was already more than enough for me.

Lately, I’ve often heard a nickname from people around me—whether seriously, jokingly, or sarcastically: “Laili si rajin”—Laili the hardworking one.

Part of the reason is that I completed my master’s degree in just a year and a half. But instead of feeling proud or flattered, the nickname actually makes me a little sad, haha.

I still remember a friend from university once telling me, “Laili, you’re not really smart, but academically, you get by because you’re hardworking.” Somehow, those words have stayed with me until today.

Even during a seminar where I was invited as a speaker, my fellow speaker once said, “Wow, you’re truly an ambitious person!”

Perhaps what people see is a Laili who is ambitious and wants to achieve many things. What they don’t see is that being hardworking was never something that simply came naturally to me. It was something that was built into me.

And while I could blame my Virgo zodiac sign for being neat and enjoying a good clean-up, the truth is that my hardworking nature was largely shaped by how I was raised.

I wasn’t born hardworking. My parents pushed me—sometimes quite firmly—to work harder than other children.

They were quite strict when it came to education. From elementary school through high school, my name was almost always among the top three in my class. I say almost because whenever my grades dropped and my ranking slipped to fifth or even somewhere in the top ten, I would get scolded. My parents made sure I knew how disappointed they were whenever I failed to do my best.

Their disappointment became my “punishment” whenever I felt that my performance was slipping.

As a child, I never really rebelled against it. But as I grew older, I began to realise how much those expectations weighed on me. More than once, they became the reason my parents and I argued.

Until one day, my older sibling said something that really struck me:

“You may not have made it to where you are today without the way Dad and Mum raised you.”

Eventually, I tried to reflect on it with a calmer mind and realised something: behind my parents’ strictness about education, there was actually one thing they wanted me to have—a better life.

For some people, money and wealth are what can transform their lives. But in my family, we believed that change began with education.

Despite all the frustration I’ve felt about it over the years, I can now see how it all makes sense. Education really did lead me towards a better life.

And beyond education, my parents have always supported me in whatever I wanted to pursue. Becoming a novelist, running a small creative agency, starting a pastry business—they never stopped me. Through education, too, I’ve had the opportunity to experience so many unique things and turn them into lessons.

I also realised that learning is something I can rely on. Perhaps if I hadn’t taken education seriously back then, I wouldn’t have experienced all of this.

But why did I have to be pushed so hard to be hardworking?

I once wrote about this in my fourth novel, Fresh Grad, whose protagonist, in many ways, reflects parts of my own life.

It’s because I wasn’t born into privilege.

In a world where money and connections can make it easier to achieve almost anything, those were two things I didn’t have.

We have always lived comfortably. We never felt like we lacked anything, and sometimes we were even fortunate enough to enjoy more than enough. But if I wanted to build a life beyond what we already had, I knew I had to work harder.

If I wanted to build connections with remarkable people, I had to put myself out there and meet more people.

And somehow, being hardworking gave me the drive to do all those extra things with enthusiasm.

Whether or not to be hardworking is a choice, in my opinion. I could have chosen not to be. But perhaps then I wouldn’t have the life I have today.

At the very least, being hardworking has given me the tools to become more independent and not have to rely entirely on others.

That doesn’t mean I’m hardworking all the time. There are plenty of days when I’m lazy and would rather just lie in bed. But sometimes, some things simply require more effort than others.

Especially when you’re part of the sandwich generation.

As long as I’m able to, I suppose I’ll continue being “Laili si rajin.”

I don’t know for how long.

But as long as I’m able to give my best, I’ll keep doing so—with everything I have.