As a woman with decades of business experience, a Cambridge graduate with a fulfilling career running my own company, alongside a joy-filled family life, few would guess from looking at me today how close I came to having a very different story.
From the outside, my childhood was idyllic – my family lived in Nigeria until I was 11, before moving to London. I went to Sunday school at church every week and I aspired to be a doctor, just like my cousin. I envisaged having a beautiful house, a fulfilling career, a nice husband, kids, and, most of all, making my parents proud.
My mum and dad worked so hard to give us the brightest future possible, but that also came with a lot of rules and expectations. Looking back, I can see that those rules were there to protect my siblings and me, especially when we moved from Nigeria to an entirely new world and culture in London.
As a teenager, though, it felt like control – and I wanted none of it. I was an extremely shy and introverted child, so I bottled up my emotions for the most part, until it all came to the fore one day. After a blazing row with my parents, I ran away from home.
I fell in with the wrong crowd and things spiralled very quickly. In a little over a year, I was using drugs and had dropped out of sixth form. I was unable to keep down a real job, let alone a permanent address. I had never thought my fight with my parents, and subsequent flight for freedom, would lead me to this homeless and hopeless mess in which I felt more trapped than ever before.
The moment that would go on to change my life forever arrived by chance: I found myself in a dark and dingy room with a friend who had suggested I go with her to see a guy about a job. It soon transpired that that “guy” was a pimp, and the “job” was sex work.
The reality of my situation hit me like a ton of bricks as I stood in that dank, foul-smelling flat. The main thought running through my head was: “I can’t do this… I just can’t do this.”
The man standing in front of me seemed to read my mind. He looked at me with obvious fury and disgust and asked: “What choice do people like you have, anyway?” I closed my eyes tight, fighting back hot tears. I think a slap in the face would have hurt less.
He was right. The painful truth was that I was a complete mess. I had ruined my life and let down everyone who cared about me. I had nothing to my name and no one to call. Even so, I knew I couldn’t go through with it. I had sunk so low, but there was still some sense of my true self deep within.
In that moment, I was struck by a sudden thought: “This is not who you are meant to be. You are meant for so much more!” Somehow, that small piece of inner guidance gave me the courage I needed to peel my feet off the floor, turn around and run full speed out of the flat and into the freezing cold Soho street outside.
As soon as I made the firm decision to trust that inner guidance, something shifted. Even though I had given up on many of my dreams, friendships and family members, I wasn’t ready to give up on myself. At that moment, I decided I would do whatever it took to rebuild my life again.
In spite of my terrible A-level grades, through clearing I managed to get into the University of Wales Bangor to study banking and finance. This move would not only help me get back into the school system, but get my life back on track too – the almost 300-mile distance between Bangor and London meant I would be far away from anyone who could pull me back into what I hoped would quickly become my old ways.
I made my way to a women’s shelter to get help for the basics, before returning to my family to apologise and attempt to reconcile with them. I was overwhelmed with joy and deep regret for how I had treated them as they welcomed me back with love and open arms, no questions asked.
On the day I was to leave London to go to Bangor to start university, my mum and dad came along to Euston station to see me off. They were so proud. I cried nonstop as they helped me get my bags on to the train, hugged me, then got back on to the platform where they waved for as long as they could, even as we pulled away.
Gradually, I managed to break free of so many of the crazy habits that had been normal in my life to this point and I began to thrive again. The university had such a profound impact on me. Based on the recommendation of one of my professors, I was accepted for a year-long internship at an international bank between the second and third years of my degree. The internship went phenomenally well and I secured a job offer to work with the bank after I graduated before I’d even started my final year at university.
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Eventually, I graduated with a first and won the Jack Revell Prize for the highest-scoring banking and finance dissertation in my year. I began a career in finance, first as a credit risk analyst, then as a credit risk consultant. By the age of 25, however, I started to get an itch for something more, or at least different. I just wasn’t sure what.
For months, I suppressed the itch. “Life is good, Maxine, don’t rock the boat,” I would think to myself, while trying to forget about it. Except I couldn’t. I wondered what was wrong with me. I knew how lucky I was: the company I worked for was great, as were my colleagues; the money was good, and the job came with all kinds of perks, but when I was alone, away from all the noise and advice of friends and family, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.
It took a chance meeting to put those missing pieces together. I happened to be introduced to Obi Arinze – she is from Obosi, the same village in Nigeria as my mum. A recent Harvard MBA graduate, she agreed to have a mentoring conversation with me.
I told her about my career and my feelings of uncertainty on what to do next. She suggested, based on my track record, that it was probably a good time to invest in an MBA, and I ought to apply for a school like Harvard.
I fell silent at her words and my heart sank. People like me don’t get into schools like that. Before I could politely cut the call with Obi, she interrupted my train of thought, offering to mentor me through the process. I couldn’t believe that she believed me capable of getting into a top university, but I also knew that, if she was going to invest her time in me, I wouldn’t let her down.
Over the next nine months, she coached me through the detailed and intense application process. The first major hurdle was the GMAT exam. With Obi’s help, I ended up scoring in the top 2% of all those who took the exam globally. Then there were the application essays, references and interviews. Through it all, she gave me the support I needed to put in the monumental and stellar effort that finally got me admitted into the Cambridge MBA class of 2007.
As a child growing up in Nigeria, the only two international universities I had ever heard of were Oxford and Cambridge. For some reason, I took more of a liking to Cambridge and dreamed that, one day, it might be nice to go there.
After my life took a detour in my teens, that dream died and I forgot all about it. It was no longer anywhere near my radar. Even after I got my life back on track, I would never in a million years have believed Cambridge was possible for me – until I met Obi.
I now know that anything is possible, which is why I have devoted my career to helping other people find their own direction. Their many success stories have convinced me that no matter what life looks like now, it is possible to create a life beyond your wildest dreams.
Maxine Nwaneri is the author of The Future is Greater, A Working Mother’s Guide to Finding Balance published by HarperCollins HQ at £16.99. Order it for £14.95 at guardianbookshop.com