(This is my first ever post, so it would seem that I should be writing about something cheerful or adventurous or naughty, but for me, even though my cheerful childhood had ended, my thirst for adventure however had just begun.)
As I gazed at my laptop screen, I thought I was gazing at a thug who was ready to beat me up with a sledgehammer. I didn't feel any sledgehammer, but the fear one gets when one knows that a terrible pain is about to occur. I knew what to expect, so my heart squeezed with anticipation and my brain recalled every mantra that tells you to breathe hurled it into my system in milliseconds. A few clicks here and a few keyboard taps there, I discovered my fate.
I was 1925 on the merit list of students who had applied for Dow Medical University. This was bad, really bad. Students from 1 to 825 on the merit list were called for an interview. My heart squeezed further, but my brain had not given up. It would not, it most certainly would not give up fighting to keep me calm. I had locked my room and opened up the list online to see my fate. As an omen, the light in the room was not working so my room was in darkness with a gloomy glow emanating from the laptop screen. Somebody knocked on my room and that triggered it. A flood of tears streamed out of my eyes.
My childhood dream had shattered.
There is a story behind this sob story which is that I had always wanted to be a doctor. Around twelve years of my life has gone towards wanting to go into medicine and as consequence, save lives. I picked Science throughout my O/A levels and let's just say that I was in some serious in denial. I was horrible in those subjects, except Biology. Chemistry and Physics had been my enemy for five years and given any opportunity of fun and adventure, I would leave behind the misery of studying tables, chemical formulas, Newtons' Laws and so on. Final exams would be the only time that I would keep some semblance of focus and barely pass through. There were different strategies in studying for O/A levels. O-levels was all about the end exam when you study for 2-3 months and you get good grades and get into a good A level institution. A-levels was studying for the next two years day in and day out to even come close to scraping up a B. I still pursued it, I wanted to be a doctor so much that I overlooked my grades, deciding that grades don't tell the whole story.
You had to be dedicated to Science, you had to live it, breathe it and eat it. I was not, but all I had known was Science, I love the human anatomy, I am fascinated with all kinds of functions, systems and organs that made our bodies into a breathing machine. That did not mean though, that I could actually learn it. Not listening to my parents say that my artistic nature did not allow me to be dedicated to Science may have been a mistake. In my defense, I hate it when one puts me in a box. Paradoxically my parents taught me how to think outside the box, and then defining me as a artsy person when I didn't see myself as one may have been one of the reasons why I chose medicine. I wanted, no, Needed to know whether I had what it takes to get into the medical field.
When university applications came around, Dow was my calling. I studied for it for months and yet I messed up the admission exam. My thoughts were not on what I was doing. Half of me had already known that this was not what I wanted and at the time when I was on the precipice of forever going into medicine, I did not want it as much as the 4000 other students that were sitting around me. When the results came near, the half that wanted this so badly became dominant and I would roam around the house like a haunting ghost, not being able to think properly, eat properly or do anything properly. I was regretting and anticipating the result simultaneously and when the result day arrived, the pain overcame every other emotion. The tears were due to the pain mostly, but a teeny tiny part of me was relieved too. I could breathe again.
Even though my childhood dream had shattered, my life still continued. I had not applied anywhere else because I would not settle for anything else but Dow Medical. Hence, I had to spend six months at home before I could apply to another university. In those six months, I had a lot to think about. I picked up the pieces of my broken dream and put them in my memory, to go back to with confidence and feel proud of myself that I did not give up on myself.
It is the best thing one can do. Do. Not. Give. Up. On. Yourself. My parents had to drill it into my brain, my brother had to constantly hand me tissues. My sisters incessant calls from halfway across the world kept me looking for another future for myself. Rather than not uttering a word of my failure, my family spoke of it so many times that it became a common topic and soon a boring topic and then just a thought. Not that they were harsh about it, they tackled the way they knew how to. Say it out aloud and then forgive yourself and then move on. I said it out loud, cried too many times, then I forgave myself and now I have moved on.
The grief of such a tremendous failure took me six months to get over. During my grieving, I went on a number of interviews for low-key jobs, became a free-lance writer, practiced drawing, read scientific/business magazines that interested me and stayed up to date on things that interested me and I applied for a graphic designing course. I took such a liking to graphic designing that I have decided on pursuing it academically and professionally and am looking forward to a summer internship at an art school.
Moral: There is always a silver lining to failure
I was 1925 on the merit list of students who had applied for Dow Medical University. This was bad, really bad. Students from 1 to 825 on the merit list were called for an interview. My heart squeezed further, but my brain had not given up. It would not, it most certainly would not give up fighting to keep me calm. I had locked my room and opened up the list online to see my fate. As an omen, the light in the room was not working so my room was in darkness with a gloomy glow emanating from the laptop screen. Somebody knocked on my room and that triggered it. A flood of tears streamed out of my eyes.
My childhood dream had shattered.
There is a story behind this sob story which is that I had always wanted to be a doctor. Around twelve years of my life has gone towards wanting to go into medicine and as consequence, save lives. I picked Science throughout my O/A levels and let's just say that I was in some serious in denial. I was horrible in those subjects, except Biology. Chemistry and Physics had been my enemy for five years and given any opportunity of fun and adventure, I would leave behind the misery of studying tables, chemical formulas, Newtons' Laws and so on. Final exams would be the only time that I would keep some semblance of focus and barely pass through. There were different strategies in studying for O/A levels. O-levels was all about the end exam when you study for 2-3 months and you get good grades and get into a good A level institution. A-levels was studying for the next two years day in and day out to even come close to scraping up a B. I still pursued it, I wanted to be a doctor so much that I overlooked my grades, deciding that grades don't tell the whole story.
You had to be dedicated to Science, you had to live it, breathe it and eat it. I was not, but all I had known was Science, I love the human anatomy, I am fascinated with all kinds of functions, systems and organs that made our bodies into a breathing machine. That did not mean though, that I could actually learn it. Not listening to my parents say that my artistic nature did not allow me to be dedicated to Science may have been a mistake. In my defense, I hate it when one puts me in a box. Paradoxically my parents taught me how to think outside the box, and then defining me as a artsy person when I didn't see myself as one may have been one of the reasons why I chose medicine. I wanted, no, Needed to know whether I had what it takes to get into the medical field.
When university applications came around, Dow was my calling. I studied for it for months and yet I messed up the admission exam. My thoughts were not on what I was doing. Half of me had already known that this was not what I wanted and at the time when I was on the precipice of forever going into medicine, I did not want it as much as the 4000 other students that were sitting around me. When the results came near, the half that wanted this so badly became dominant and I would roam around the house like a haunting ghost, not being able to think properly, eat properly or do anything properly. I was regretting and anticipating the result simultaneously and when the result day arrived, the pain overcame every other emotion. The tears were due to the pain mostly, but a teeny tiny part of me was relieved too. I could breathe again.
Even though my childhood dream had shattered, my life still continued. I had not applied anywhere else because I would not settle for anything else but Dow Medical. Hence, I had to spend six months at home before I could apply to another university. In those six months, I had a lot to think about. I picked up the pieces of my broken dream and put them in my memory, to go back to with confidence and feel proud of myself that I did not give up on myself.
It is the best thing one can do. Do. Not. Give. Up. On. Yourself. My parents had to drill it into my brain, my brother had to constantly hand me tissues. My sisters incessant calls from halfway across the world kept me looking for another future for myself. Rather than not uttering a word of my failure, my family spoke of it so many times that it became a common topic and soon a boring topic and then just a thought. Not that they were harsh about it, they tackled the way they knew how to. Say it out aloud and then forgive yourself and then move on. I said it out loud, cried too many times, then I forgave myself and now I have moved on.
The grief of such a tremendous failure took me six months to get over. During my grieving, I went on a number of interviews for low-key jobs, became a free-lance writer, practiced drawing, read scientific/business magazines that interested me and stayed up to date on things that interested me and I applied for a graphic designing course. I took such a liking to graphic designing that I have decided on pursuing it academically and professionally and am looking forward to a summer internship at an art school.
Moral: There is always a silver lining to failure
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