Hey, let’s get real for a moment. Remember that post I wrote at the end of December about working and studying full-time and not losing my mind in the process? Yeah, I can’t even look back at it without feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt. That’s what happens when you let your hubris get the better of you, and then you’re humbled in the most extraordinary fashion.
I felt on top of the world at the time I wrote it. And why not? I was about to achieve something my friends, family and coworkers thought impossible. I had worked full-time (in a healthcare setting during a pandemic to boot), often juggling multiple roles, missing lunch, and regularly racking up overtime, and I was also in school full-time for my health science prerequisites. While I was waiting for my last test result, it was looking, for a brief moment, like I was going to get straight As. It was going to be a stunning achievement.
And then the unthinkable happened.
I got an F.
And I felt like my life had ended.
I cried for two days. I felt like I had just run a marathon, and despite wanting to throw up and collapse into a heap on the side of the racetrack, I pushed through it. In the final nine yards of the race and it was looking like I was about to come in first, and then I tripped over my shoelace a meter before the finish line, fell flat on my face, and came in dead last. It was absolutely soul-crushing.
So what?
I’m the kind of person that has to succeed at everything. I’m forever trying to prove myself. (I don’t even know who I’m trying to prove myself to!) I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that when people have told me in the past that I spend too much time thinking about work, I often work harder because I’m stubborn that way. In today’s world, it’s hard to ignore the pressure to always be better.
I’ve already remade myself once after the onset of the pandemic rendered my degree and field of work practically worthless. I know what it feels like to work hard and not get anywhere despite your efforts. When I was looking for work in the publishing sector during the first year of the pandemic, no one would give me a chance, even with my years of experience. When someone finally did offer me a chance, it was in a field I knew nothing about and I had to learn quickly. Those opportunities don’t come often, which is why I push myself as hard as I do to keep advancing.
But why does it matter?
Anyway, let’s hightail back to my point. Failing a single test delayed my ability to start my program by at least six months, maybe even a year, and probably closed several doors to me. But in experiencing this delay, other doors I previously thought were closed to me have now opened up. Of course I was upset. I’ve never failed at anything before and it was a huge blow to my ego. But I immediately threw myself back at organic chemistry with a vow to ace it this time. I know what I’m doing, and I’m not letting one bad test ruin my future.