I always wanted to study law, but as a teenager I was told I wasn’t smart enough. That put me off for years.

I grew up in west London in a working-class, single-parent family. My mother, who was a chauffeur, had my sister when I was 13; it was a difficult birth and she was in intensive care for a long time. She also suffered from postnatal depression, so I spent a lot of time caring for my baby sister on my own. I took her everywhere I went; I bathed her, fed her, and brought her up.

It affected my performance in school. I didn’t pay attention in class, do my homework or revise for my exams. No one at home encouraged me to study and no one in school knew about my family responsibilities. Around this time, a careers advisor said I wouldn’t pass my exams. I was told I should go straight to work because I wasn’t intelligent enough for further study.

Although I didn’t revise, I did get C grades in my GCSEs and a BTec diploma in performing arts. I then started work as a receptionist. I had my first daughter at 21 and my second four years later. At this point I left what had become a violent relationship and became a single parent.

By my late 20s, I’d regained some of my confidence. I started to think about studying again. I had my mind set on becoming a barrister; they’re well respected and self-employed, which I thought would give me the flexibility to look after my children – and I wanted to make them proud of me. So I started an access to law course at London South Bank University.

Once I got over my nerves, I started to enjoy studying again. But it was strange to be alongside 18-year-olds at the university when I was 28. Sometimes they’d talk through lectures and didn’t seem to appreciate the costs involved in being there.

When you’re studying as a single parent, it helps to have a routine. I’ll put my children to bed and stay up late to study when they’re asleep. And it’s worked so far. I graduated with a first in law and won two scholarships. The awards meant I could afford to take my bar professional training course (BPTC), which I’m doing now. My children keep telling everyone I’m a barrister already and I have to tell them, not quite yet.

I plan to specialise in social welfare and housing benefit, because many people in these areas don’t have access to legal aid. It’s not a level playing field for them. They’re often unrepresented and end up getting unjust verdicts. I want to be able to help them.

Sometimes I still doubt myself. I worry I won’t pass the BPTC. There are times when it feels surreal to be here because things like this don’t happen to people like me. But I’m proud of my achievements. When I remember my old careers advisors and how they told me I wasn’t smart enough to pass my GCSEs, I think to myself: middle finger to you. Look at what I’ve done.