We lived in a domestic violence shelter when my son was an infant, and now I make $100,000 a year. Here's how I did it.

• Yahaira Moore was divorced with an infant, living at a domestic violence shelter.
• While living at the shelter she started pursuing a career in tech.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Yahaira Moore. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Twelve years ago, I had six weeks to figure out my entire life. I'd just come to a domestic violence shelter with my son and was still navigating a messy divorce from his father. I had to drop out of college, and I was focused on survival.

We could stay in the shelter for only six weeks. I was determined to make the most of that time. The shelter staff encouraged me to get a job — any job. But I knew I wanted to start establishing a career. I grew up in poverty with an immigrant father and mother who did everything she could to keep food on the table. I didn't want my son to see the things that I had seen growing up in a depressed neighborhood in New York City.

Being in the shelter with my infant was rock bottom. I knew I couldn't go any lower than that, and in a way, knowing that was freeing. I decided I would try to use this time to improve my life and my son's.

I was accepted into a program that would help me work in technology

Luckily, the shelter director recognized what I was trying to do. One day, she handed me a flyer for NPower, a nonprofit that provides digital career training to veterans and people from underserved communities.

I always had an interest in tech, and this seemed like a fantastic opportunity. I applied and was asked to come in for an interview. I had no clothes to wear to a professional interview, so the shelter director connected me with another nonprofit that gave me business attire.

When I was accepted to NPower, I was overwhelmed. I had said that I would only go up from the shelter, but now I had to put in the hard work to make that happen.

I knew struggling short term would help me long-term

My mantra became, "struggle now so that you won't struggle later." I secured housing in a longer-term shelter where my son and I could live for two years. Once I knew we had a place to sleep safely, I could focus on establishing our new life.

While I was thinking about the long term, I had immediate obligations from the shelter. I had to complete job readiness, and my training with NPower didn't count. Instead, my caseworker recommended a program where I would pick up trash in New York City parks. I explained to her that I was trying to get into technology — weren't there any opportunities that could support that? She said she didn't know because I was the first person who ever asked her.

A few days later, she told me that she found me a job readiness program where I could work in IT support. I had no experience with that, but I was determined to make it work. In the mornings, I would ask my instructor at Npower questions like "How do you reset a printer?" In the afternoons, I'd use that new-found knowledge in my IT job. I crisscrossed the city, getting my son to day care, doing classes at Npower, going to my job, and picking up my son in time to make curfew at the shelter.

I had a full-circle moment, eating a lobster roll for lunch

Lots of Fortune 500 executives came to speak with us at Npower, and they always shared their business cards. I got in touch with each and every one of them, arranging a phone call or coffee meeting. At first, I didn't tell anyone my story, but I slowly opened up. One day, I asked a mentor, "Do you really think I can do it?" He laughed, then got very serious and said, "Yahaira, I'm 100% sure you can out-succeed me." I had to rush off the phone because I was crying. He gave me validation that my current situation wasn't a reflection of my abilities or odds of success.

After NPower, I was supposed to complete an internship, but Hurricane Sandy destroyed my internship site. I spoke about that, as well as my many other challenges during the program, at my graduation. An executive from a major company stood up and offered me an internship right there.

The internship was at the World Financial Center in Lower Manhattan. I was shocked. Before my divorce, I'd been working at a food cart, selling $20 lobster rolls. I would spend my days wishing I could afford a $20 lunch and thinking about how to get to that point. It was a full-circle moment. On my first day, I went out and bought a lobster roll for lunch.

Today, my son and I live in a beautiful sky-rise apartment. We're financially secure, which means I'm free from the mental anguish and worry that impacts so many Black families struggling financially — including the one I grew up in. It took a lot of therapy to make the mental switch from survival to enjoyment mode, but now I'm finally able to enjoy the life I've built.