Saturday, September 7, 2013

The Scariness of Failure

I've been harboring some negative thinking regarding just how smart I think I am. I feel like I'm not as intelligent as I try to appear. So with that in mind I try not to challenge myself too often in an effort to not fail.

I've talked about my issues with failure before. I hate to fail, when my body limits me, I count it as a failure, my dog does something wrong, I count it as a failure. My world is shot to pieces because I didn't do something the right way. I end up not trying at all some times. In the end I never challenge my potential, and that in itself is another failure.

School is the ultimate mental test for me. I have to learn something and learn it fast. I have understand it  to a point where I can apply it and retain it. I have to do all this on someone else's schedule. Accelerated courses will do that to you. There's not much time for you or anyone for that matter to cram. The class is so short, it's really one big cram session. Every minute counts, and every word is valuable. This is pressure. This frighten me.

What if I read the wrong section? What if I do the wrong assignment? I didn't get that email. I missed the bus on the way to class. I can't fail. Failing is unacceptable. Failing is why I tried to kill myself in 2011. I'd like to say that I've grown a little from that experience, but I can't really say if I have.

I held my breath as I checked my grade for my Psychology class today. I got the email sometime last night. The grades have been posted. Logging on to the the Student Portal felt like I was walking toward my execution. The seconds it takes for the page to load, seemed like hours. I almost wanted to hold my breath while clicking the link to my class grades.

I surprisingly got an A. Wait. What? An A, after that poor showing on the mid-term? How is that possible? I must have beasted the final. I already knew what the score was on the Group Project.  I was sort of expecting the worst. I was prepared to sulk for the rest of the month and eat ice cream and cry on my sewing machine.  I guess I don't have to do that.

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