There are some days I look in the mirror and tell myself how proud I am of me for coming this far in life, especially right now when I'm juggling a plateful of responsibilities.
Those are the good days - the days I forget how I used to beat myself up because I didn't meet my own expectations, the days I forget how I used to talk myself into feeling worse because I felt like I was not worth it.
The good days are days I wake up feeling good about myself and life. The good days are days I manage to tell myself, "It's okay to stumble and fall. It's okay. You can start all over again today," and not feel like melting into a pool of nothingness.
Truth is, the happy, bright, cheerful and all-about-the-good-things person I am (or try to be) isn't really always all about the good things. In fact, I'm quite the contrary.
My mom used to say if I hadn't scored full marks for my spelling tests, she wouldn't acknowledge. Whenever I brought home my report card and had failed Science, she wouldn't sign.
In my memory, there is no "It's okay as long as you've tried your best," or "You can do better next time." But I remember angry faces and turned backs hell a lot. I wonder if my mom ever thought that would affect me and how I perceive myself years later.
Days ago, I brought home a graded assignment and scored a C+.
You know, C+ actually sounds pretty bad but when I entered university, I decided that I will not let my grades dictate the life I live. No, I won't.
I told my sister about it as we were walking home that day and her immediate response was: "Must be never study hard enough. Always skip classes!"
For the record, I have never missed a single class for that module. Or rather, I've only missed ONE lesson the entire semester because I was feeling under the weather the other day. It's a huge improvement from perpetual no-shows in the previous semesters.
So why? Why must the reason I scored C+ be definitely because I skipped class? Or because I didn't study enough?
I take this module more seriously than anything else because I know how important this module is. That's not all - I'm very interested in this module and I'm very keen on learning more.
When I got back my copy, I didn't think about the whys or lament my not-so-brilliant result. All I asked myself was how; how can I do better, how can I become a better writer?
News writing has always been a challenge to me. I interned for a magazine, wrote magazine-style for 22 weeks. My editor drilled me and she trained me well so I know I'm not a bad lifestyle writer but this module focuses on news writing.
I won't blame the nature of the module because I knew what I was in for when I first applied for the module. I guess all I'm trying to say is there are many reasons why I didn't do as well (as I wished to).
At 22, I wish I could say I don't care about what others say about me or that I didn't care about the judgmental comments. But I do, and I do so even more because the worse encouragement comes from family closest to me. And I hate that.
In JC, Physics and Chemistry were the bane of my existence. I never once passed a Physics test and I remember my mom asking me why.
"What do you mean why? I failed because I suck at Physics. The paper was too hard!" I thought to myself.
Thank God for supportive friends back then. I hate to say it but all that tuition didn't help me half as much as the consultations I had with my school teachers and genius friends, with whom I still keep in contact with.
My mom provided me the finances to go for tuition in hopes that I would do better and I'm thankful. I am, really. But tuition would have worked if she had encouraged me with words instead of ruling with an iron fist.
Nothing has changed today.
I can't get tuition for the modules I'm taking. Instead, I'm the one giving tuition to others. But I still don't get encouragement and support from my family the way I wish they would.
Maybe the years of lack of compliment and praises and support resulted in who I am today - constantly small in front of crowds, lack self-worth and always overthinking the trivial matters.
I appear strong and outspoken. I act like I'm not afraid of anything but the truth is, I am afraid. There are times I ask myself what kind of person has so many fears.
Yes, I am afraid.
Just a couple of years ago, I was all about negative self-talk and I was this close to walking off the edge. I was treading a thin line, struggling to stay afloat with chains bound around my legs.
There were so many times I thought about U-turning, repeating J2 all over again but Chew talked me out of it. She said it wouldn't be worth it. She believed I would do better that year than if I took it the following year. She believed in me.
And that's what I needed - someone to believe in me.
Now that Chew has graduated and is officially an adult working 8 hours a day, I cannot turn to her for the encouragement I want. Naively, though, I thought I could manage all on my own.
But I proved myself wrong.
On nights like this, I wish I was elsewhere. I wish I wasn't pitying myself or fighting the frustrations within.
I wish I wasn't struggling.
Comments