My college boyfriend used to drop me off at class so he could cheat on me while I was in class.

I didn’t know about the cheating until much later, but when I reflect on that relationship now, I’m actually grateful he was cheating — because in his twisted attempt to get rid of me, he ended up helping me earn my degree.

At the time, I had zero self-love. Actually, I had negative self-love. I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and completely unmotivated.

I was taking 19 units, working three jobs — at a spa, Dollar Tree, and Starbucks — and barely holding it together.

I wasn’t in the headspace to be a focused college student. But he was motivated to get me to class, and because of that, I made it to all my classes.

I went to Cal State Northridge, and if you know that campus, you know the parking situation is a mess.

Most of the time, it takes 20 minutes just to walk from your car to your classroom — if you even manage to find a parking spot.

Students would literally drive in circles or follow someone to their car just to grab a space.

I used to ask people, “Hey, can I give you a ride to your car so I can take your spot?”

But I didn’t have to deal with that when I was with him.

He would drop me off right at the front door of the building my class was in. No walking. No parking pass. No stress.

At the time, I thought he was being supportive.

I didn’t realize his “helpfulness” was just his way of buying time to sneak around behind my back.

Still, I can’t lie — I wouldn’t have made it through those semesters without those drop-offs.

I wasn’t motivated by academic goals or a clear career path. I was barely surviving.

But I kept showing up to class because he kept dropping me off, and somehow, that became the momentum I needed to finish.

And when I did find out about the cheating, it was actually easy to walk away.

Even though I was still healing, even though my self-esteem was low, I knew deep in my soul that the man I’d one day marry would never cheat on me.

That clarity gave me the strength to leave.

Years later, I looked up his name and discovered he had been in a court case in California for almost unaliving someone.

He was abusive. A narcissist. A sociopath. I didn’t just dodge a bullet — I dodged a missile.

That man was never meant to be my husband. He was just the lesson. And in a strange, twisted way, he helped me graduate.

That’s what transmutation looks like — turning pain into progress, and trauma into testimony.