I had this planned out in my planner as “results and what comes next,” but I’m not sure that’s strictly necessary anymore. Instead, I wanna explore my experience of the past year, now that I’ve had a few months to think it over.
Last year, I did horrifically. I received a U in Physics, D in Sociology and a D in English Lit. All day was spent in bed, eating crap and watching YouTube, because I wasn’t ready to face the year, and actually see how badly I had done.
I had a few days to think, before going into school to get things sorted, and came to the only logical conclusion I could: I’d have to try again.
Because there wasn’t anything else I wanted to do! English (books and writing) were my life and the more I write and read, the more I need to write and read. Physics could be discarded, as there was no way I was going to get a decent grade, even retaking. Sociology… well, I was going to drop it, but didn’t really have a choice. I failed Physics, so it had to go.
So I tried again. In all honesty, I think it came down to the fact that I hated feeling like a failure and that I wasn’t good enough. I worked harder, became so obsessed with my grades that I kept a tracker of all of the marks of all of the essays and bits of work I’d handed in, just to make sure there was an improvement. If I wasn’t working, I felt guilty, and if I was working, I felt like I needed to be doing other pieces of work, and I burned out around Easter.
It wasn’t healthy, but it worked. I lost weight, my appetite and I was getting ill every month on the dot. I was getting Bs and As in my classes. I didn’t see my friends outside of school and there came a point where I was having a panic attack a week, but my work was all getting finished and I was completing extra essays. On one hand, I was improving, and was happier for it. On the other, I felt as though I couldn’t let up. I had to keep pushing, to keep improving because I couldn’t let myself fall back into the hellhole that was Year 12.
So yes, failing in my own eyes a year ago did make me better. But it also made me more likely to neglect my friends and family, suffer panic attacks and avoid dealing with complicated emotional problems in favour of burying my nose into my books.
That might be more of an issue than bad grades was.