…and it’s okay. I survived it. I’m still living. I didn’t lose any limbs. I can still remember it. It was the semester before I graduated with my Masters. I had to pass my written comprehensive exam. I was stressed to the point where I manifested physical pain. The day came and it was test time. I didn’t do well. I didn’t feel confident after I finished it but I was glad to have been done with it.
The day came for the results to come out. I got the dreaded call that I didn’t pass but that I had a chance to do an oral do-over. One of my professors had told me that I needed to talk to one of my other professors because she was upset that I didn’t do well on the portions that she taught. She was a teacher that I was already intimidated by so now I was expected to tell her why I had failed. She was upset and she let me know that she was upset. SO, not only did I have to deal with my own feelings of feeling like a failure but I also had to process feeling like I failed another person.
I don’t know how long it lasted but I walked around like I had a scarlet letter F on my forehead. I’m sure I ate more than was necessary and doubted my intelligence. Thankful for my support system, I was able to begin again. Beginning again meant figuring out what I needed to do to pass my test. In doing so, I had study groups with my cohorts and sharing what I had learned and what to expect.
The day came and I whipped that test’s butt. I just knew it. I felt more confident and know that I had given my all. The day came again and I got the call that I had passed! Not only had I passed but also did my cohorts.
Yes, I failed, but I didn’t say a failure. I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and pushed on. This story is a helpful reminder to me that failing didn’t kill me. It not only helped me but I was also able to help others.
Still Pushing with a look back in the past,