Had a really hard time yesterday.
I failed my driving learner’s test. I really didn’t want to. Didn’t mean to. And I knew I was ready. But sometimes you can’t account for nerves, can’t account for emotions, and sometimes those things can get the best of you. I broke down, of course. Because failure isn’t something anyone likes. It’s stressful. I wanted it done this year. Before I have to go back to Toronto again. There’s been a whole ton of money invested into driving lessons and I feel I let that all slip away from me. So I was devastated. This failure combined with all the stress of not knowing where I should go, being rejected on so many fronts from UBC (they insist on making me a year behind), and having my self esteem wrecked at work. It was really too much. It was worse than failing my ARCT exam. By a margin of miles.
But I pulled it together. There are so many beautiful things in life that I have yet to discover. So many little things that make me smile everyday. And life’s too short to waste it constantly on tears. So I pulled it together. Took a nice warm shower and settled down to find things that make me happy.
And I was happy again. For a little while.
Then my mom came home.
I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt and say she just had a bad day, but I know it’s not true. Especially not after the hurtful reasoning she threw at me. She yelled at me for not trying hard enough. Not practicing enough. Procrastinating on it until the last minute. She said it was the same way with piano. The way I wouldn’t practice. And the way I failed. And that hurt. I had related the two exams by the feelings of failure and disappointment in myself I felt, by the mental breakdowns I had. But she related it to my horrible work ethics, to my inability.
And I was too battered by my earlier breakdown – I was barely keeping myself together at that point – to fight back.
But she’s wrong.
I failed my test due to my nerves, due to my getting flustered after one mistake. And there’s really no way to prepare for that. All I can do is try again. And it’s not likely to be this summer with all the appointments booked. And frankly, after having all my tenacity wasted on UBC, I don’t have the willpower to call everyday and check if they have an appointment open (because every time they say they don’t, it’s another disappointment in my face).
It was the same way with piano. My nerves always got the best of me. I would mess up entire songs at piano recitals, do horribly in piano competitions because I couldn’t get my fingers to stop shaking or be too stiff. I agree that I should’ve practiced more in terms of piano. But I also believe I should’ve stopped playing a long, long time ago. I enjoy playing what I want. Not classical music that showcases my nonexistent technique. I want to be playing for my sake, for making others happier, not to impress some examiner. And thus, I could never be motivated to take the exam again.
I’m not good in situations where I’m openly judged. But I’ll try again with driving. But I won’t with piano. And it’s wrong. To think that practicing more will get rid of all my mistakes, all of my nervousness. I’m sure there are classes to help relieve nerves. To make someone feel better about interviews, public speaking, performances. And I’m sure I could use those. But I’m also happy knowing that I’m not charismatic, I’m not a natural performer. And you can’t bash me for that.
I was at a cavernous low yesterday. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve even had the thought of suicide. And it came to me yesterday. Like a ghost. In the clutches of a pill case with forty-ish pills of naproxen. I’m sure I could overdose if I took all of them at once even if they’re two years old. Or at least feel nothing for a long time. But I would never.
Suicide requires a crap ton of bravery which I don’t have.
Not to mention a huge load of stupidity.
It’s never a good idea to kill yourself. That’s why I’ve always shook my head at the idea of Romeo and Juliet. The future is full of choices to make. You can bring yourself anywhere. Move beyond anything. And there’s no reason to stop and give up just because you’re at a low point in life. Just smile. There’s probably a high point just waiting around the corner.
I got my boyfriend to talk me down from my frantic hyperventilation. To calm my sobs into a sluggish sleepy slate. And after a good night’s rest, I feel better. My mom acts like she wasn’t the one who inflicted all this horrible pain upon me last night. And whatever. We’ll leave it at that.
I’m done with blaming others. Everything you feel can be controlled by you. And I can choose next time not to be hurt. (Though I probably will. Work in progress..?)
I’m happy again.
I have a million problems to worry about, to try and find solutions to.
But it’s okay.
I’m happy again.