I was almost robbed of my love for chemistry – but I fought my way back

When I became fascinated with chemistry at school, in grade 10, what I really loved were the lab experiments and titrations. They were so fun. I wanted to learn more, do more reactions. Honestly, I just wished I could stay in the lab forever. Little did I know that the place where I found so much joy would become the stage for some of my hardest battles.

I ended up scoring the highest in chemistry in 12th grade. But my father wanted me to become a doctor, so I had to prepare for medical entrance exams. I wasn’t passionate about medicine, but I kept pushing myself for my dad.

The entrance exam had biology, physics and chemistry. And guess what kept me motivated through it all? Chemistry.

I didn’t qualify the first time. I took a drop year and tried again. Still, I didn’t get the score I needed for a government-funded seat. I had pushed myself for two years to make my parents happy, but deep down, I was exhausted.

So I made a decision: this time, I’d choose what I truly loved. I’d choose chemistry.

I enrolled in a bachelor’s programme in chemistry. Everything felt right – or so I thought. I picked the wrong university. And that’s when the storm began.

The joy was gone

The university had no proper lab equipment. No fume hoods. Barely any instruments. It was a complete mess. I felt broken. My dreams were slipping away. I cried to myself, but the fees were paid and non-refundable. I didn’t want to burden my parents again.

Three years passed with almost no real lab experience. Chemistry without a lab felt lifeless. The joy was gone.

But I had long dreamed of doing my master’s abroad. After graduation, I applied to top universities with strong labs and real research opportunities.

To my surprise, I got an offer. A fully funded programme with excellent labs, professors and internships, 4000 miles from home. It felt like a dream come true. I packed my bags, hugged my parents tightly, and boarded my first international flight.

When I arrived, everything felt new. The people, the energy, the chemistry department – it was huge. I saw instruments I’d never seen before: NMR, IR, UV, x-ray. The excitement I had lost came rushing back. I felt like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

These hopes came crashing down once the lab course started. There, I met the person who would make my life a nightmare.

From the very first day, they shouted at me – not for my mistakes, but for theirs. They mocked my inexperience, insulted me in front of others and blamed me when reactions failed. Once, I broke a round-bottom flask – a small accident – but they humiliated me like I had done something unforgivable.

They crushed my spirit. I started hating the lab. I was depressed.

It was one of the lowest points of my life

But the lab wasn’t the only place they damaged me.

They went around telling other labs and colleagues that I was incapable. As a result, I couldn’t find a job – and that was terrifying, because my visa extension deadline was approaching and I had to show the immigration office I had enough money to survive.

I started skipping meals to save money. Most days, I lived on a single meal. If a friend invited me to dinner, it felt like a lucky day – I wouldn’t have to go to sleep hungry. Eventually, it took a toll on my health. The constant stress and poor nutrition led to serious gastrointestinal issues, and I was admitted to the hospital.

It was one of the lowest points of my life.

One day, I told my friend. She said, ‘This is mental abuse. You have to speak up – for yourself and for the others this person might hurt.’

I was scared. But I gathered the courage and went to my course coordinator. My voice trembled. My eyes welled up. I could barely speak – but I told her everything. For the first time, I felt heard.

Chemistry is slowly becoming mine again

Months passed. The university sent out surveys on bullying. I filled them out, unsure if they would do anything.

Then recently, my coordinator reached out. ‘We’re taking action,’ she said.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel broken. I felt brave. I started regaining confidence.

The experience still hurts. But chemistry is slowly becoming mine again. I’m reclaiming the joy I felt back in 10th grade. The fear is being replaced by purpose – that one day, I’ll be the kind of mentor I never had. That I’ll build a lab where students feel safe to learn, to fail and to grow.

Because abuse doesn’t always leave bruises. Sometimes, it silences your passion. But the heart of a chemist – curious, resilient and stubborn – can’t be silenced forever.