By Hauwa Umaru, MiFFT2025

When I got into London Business School, I was excited. I had a clear plan to pivot into a more focused area of finance like development and sustainable finance. I knew why I was making the move, and I was confident in my direction.
But once the programme started, everything changed.
You attend lectures, meet professors, and discover areas you had not considered. Suddenly, new paths seem interesting. You start to question your goals. You are surrounded by ambitious classmates, many focused on investment banking or private equity. Without realising it, you start thinking the same way.
And then the fear of missing out sets in.

You want to apply for everything. Try everything. Especially when you come in with an immigration mindset, where every opportunity feels like it could be your only chance, you think casting a wide net is safer than narrowing your focus.
But after putting in the effort, I realised some roles were not even hiring. And for the few that were, they wanted someone with direct experience in those fields, even though I had over seven years of experience and strong transferable skills.
I also knew I was doing something wrong when the rejections did not bother me anymore. Not because I was strong or resilient, but because I was not truly invested. I was applying just for the sake of it. If I had gotten any of those roles, I probably would not have enjoyed them.

That realisation was a wake-up call. I had lost sight of what I actually wanted.
That is when I returned to my application. My original LBS essay became my anchor.
When I wrote it, I had clarity. No pressure. No distractions. It reminded me why I chose this programme, what I hoped to gain, and what I wanted for my career. Reading it again helped me reset. It reminded me that I was not here to follow everyone else. I was here to follow through on my own goals.
That shift grounded me. And in many ways, it helped my mental health.

Coming from a finance and accounting background, I have always had to fight to prove I belong in front office roles. Even with experience. Even with two Master’s degrees. There is still that lingering feeling that you are not good enough. But going back to my “why” gave me a sense of direction and peace I did not know I needed.
I am still in the recruitment process. I am still figuring things out. But I have returned to my original plan. The noise had pulled me away from my target companies and long-term focus. Now, I am going back to the drawing board with intention.
So, my advice to incoming students is simple.
Write your application or essay for yourself. Be honest. Be clear. Be real.
That version of you, the one who wrote the essay before all the noise, will be the one who keeps you grounded when things get overwhelming. Trust that version. Let it guide you when you need direction.
It is what has been working for me.