From Federal Inmate #16524-046 to Summa Cum Laude: My Journey to Graduation

Ten years ago, I was known as federal inmate # 16524-046.

Today, I am walking across the stage at The University of Montana, graduating with my Bachelor’s degree in Social Work, earning multiple honors, a 4.0 GPA, and being named the Outstanding Social Work Student of the Year.

If you had told me a decade ago that this would be my reality, I don’t know if I would have believed you.

I grew up on the Fort Peck Reservation, a place that raised me, shaped me, and ultimately became part of both my struggle and my healing. For a long time, I was caught in a cycle of intravenous methamphetamine addiction. My life revolved around using and selling drugs in the very same community I now serve.

There’s a different kind of weight that comes with that.

It’s not just the addiction, it’s the impact on the people you care about, your own community, the places and faces you’ve known your whole life. It’s carrying the reality of who you were in the same spaces where you’re now trying to become someone different.

Back then, my life was defined by the choices I had made and the consequences that followed. I carried shame, regret, and the weight of what felt like a future already written for me.

But something shifted.

It wasn’t one big moment, it was a series of small ones. Moments where I chose to keep going. Moments where I started to believe that maybe I could be more than my past.

And at the center of that shift was my faith.

There were times when I didn’t believe in myself at all, but I learned to believe that God hadn’t given up on me. My faith carried me through the darkest moments of my life. It grounded me when everything else felt uncertain. It reminded me that my life still had purpose, even when I couldn’t see it yet.

I can say with my whole heart: God saved my life.

And I know I did not get here alone.

There were prayers spoken over my life long before I ever believed I deserved a second chance. The prayers of my grandmother and my mom carried me through seasons where I could not carry myself. Even when I was lost in addiction, making destructive choices, and hurting the people around me, they never stopped believing that God could still reach me. Looking back now, I can see how much their faith, love, and prayers helped guide me back to the person I was meant to become.

God also placed incredible people in my life, first through pastor Kenny Azure and now through Adullam House Ministries. My close friends there have helped me understand the Bible in a deeper way and challenged me to grow in who I am as a Christian. They taught me that faith is not just something you speak about on Sundays, it is something you live through obedience, humility, discipline, and service to others. They encouraged me to pursue healing, accountability, and purpose while continually pointing me back to God.

That belief didn’t make the journey easy, but it made it possible.

The work that followed required accountability, honesty, and a willingness to face parts of myself I had spent years avoiding. It was strengthened by people who saw something in me before I could fully see it in myself. And it was guided by a growing sense of purpose, one rooted in helping others who are walking paths similar to the one I came from.

Choosing social work wasn’t just an academic decision. It was personal.

Through my education, I found language for my experiences, tools to support others, and a deeper understanding of resilience, not just as a concept, but as something lived and practiced every day. I learned that healing isn’t linear, that people are complex, and that everyone deserves dignity, compassion, and the opportunity to change.

Alongside all of these accomplishments, there is one that means more to me than anything else, being a mother.

My son, Karver, and my daughter, Kazzley, are my greatest achievements. They are my why. They are the reason I kept going on the days it felt impossible, and the reason I continue to strive to be better every single day. Being their mom has grounded me, humbled me, and given my life a kind of purpose that no title or award ever could.

Today, I graduate Summa Cum Laude with a 4.0 GPA. I am a member of Phi Kappa Phi and the National Honor Society of Leadership and Success. I have been recognized as the Outstanding Social Work Student of the Year.

But those titles and honors, while meaningful, are not the most important part of this story.

The most important part is this:

• I am no longer defined by my past choices.

• I am defined by the grace of God, the work I’ve done to grow beyond my past, the prayers that covered me, and the love I have for my children that keeps me moving forward.

• I share this not because my journey is unique, but because it isn’t. There are so many people out there carrying the weight of their past, believing it disqualifies them from a better future. I know that feeling. I’ve lived it.

And I want to say this clearly, for anyone who needs to hear it.

You are not defined by your past choices.

Recovery doesn’t mean perfection. It means progress. It means showing up, even when it’s hard. It means choosing something different, over and over again, until those choices begin to shape a new life.

As I walk across the stage, I carry every version of myself with me, the one who struggled with addiction, the one who caused harm, the one who fought to change, and the one who stands here now. All of those piece’s matter. All of them got me here.

Returning to the same community where I once used and sold drugs is not easy, but it is meaningful. It reminds me every day why this work matters. It keeps me grounded, accountable, and committed to being part of something better.

We Do Recover!

Ashley Azure