When 2014 ended, I was quite excited. I hadn’t had a very good year and I was looking forward to making some big changes in the upcoming year. But then my grades for the previous semester came out. I had barely made it through the threshold to remain in university, and I had failed one course. As you can imagine I was devastated, however to me it was something more. It was watching all my hopes and dreams come crashing to the ground, it was watching all my prejudices stacked up against me. I had at some point mocked people who did poorly in school – and here I was having failed a course. It seemed to me as if this was karma, a worthy slap in my face for my years of arrogance.
As someone who was extremely proud of her academic prowess, this blow was somehow unexpected. In one moment, someone had taken away my most prized possession and told me that I hadn’t deserve it in the first place. The pain that I felt drove me to spend my days curled up in my bed, I didn’t have the courage to face my friends let alone tell them of what had happened. I lived the whole semester in a lie, nobody knew that I was repeating the semester, and nobody knew of the whirlwind of emotions that I was going through every time we had a conversation about school.
Despite the crippling self-doubt, a panic attack in the middle of an exam I scraped through. And I made it to second year – 1st semester. And boy was I ready to destroy it this year, I was ready to make at least some part of 2015 a success. However, 2016 started in much the same way that 2015 did. However, the second time around the devastation had taken on new forms, my mind accepted reality much sooner this time. And instead of mourning, the grief became much more silent and painful. I would spend moments locked up in my bathroom away from family scratching myself. Sometimes I would stay awake till 3AM, because I couldn’t dare to let my mind be on its own, afraid of the incoming thoughts. And after staying up so late, I would despise myself for having stayed up so late. Despite my “best” intentions this just ended up with me getting stuck in a spiral of self-loathing. I would be enjoying a meal, and I would suddenly get jittery and have the overwhelming urge to cry and harm myself.
I am broken, and there is very little I can do about except prove myself wrong, and bring back that trophy of academic excellence that I had so proudly displayed. Yes, I still have moments like these, and in fact I had one this morning. The 1st of January had brought with it the hysteria that my mind has now come to expect. I woke up today with an unfortunately familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach, a feeling of dread and the overwhelming urge to wail. I wish I could joyfully anticipate the beginning of the new year and a new semester, but I can’t. After 3 years of sorrow my mind refuses to acknowledge that good times are on the horizon, despite there being some evidence to prove the contrary. 2/5 of my marks for this semester are out, and I have done exceptionally well in those courses, but the doubt in my mind sustains. It’s quite stubborn, just like me.
So, no it’s not a Happy New Year for me, I don’t even get the privilege of a happy 1st of January. Perhaps in a week or so, when all my marks are out and my anxiety is hopefully assailed will I be able to enjoy a happy year. But until then anxiously yours.