There is my fear: the fear of failure. Humans do experience this sense with varying degrees. Back in my primary school, I was never competitive, I did not join any teams for competitions until grade 3. My expectations were always in the top 10, then 5, and never higher. But my secondary years were a turning point in which I became obsessed with the idea of winning. I knew that at that moment, I possessed adequate skills and knowledge to thrive and dominate my playground. Onto my high school years, I still expect a similar seamless chain of achievements, until I failed my first writing contest, the second, and the third. Winning was no longer a must but a wish.
However, I became "legendary" by entering the National Olympiad in grade 10. I understood my ability, and I did not expect too much; thereby never invested too much. The consolation prize was my pride and my pity since I could have studied harder. So last year, I did it, I vowed to exert myself. I aimed high right from the beginning, and during the last two months before the competition, I relinquished everything else: my club, my hobbies, my entertainment, and even my maths and literature. I was willing to task this risk in exchange for my desired prize. The result broke me down. Yet another consolation prize. It was normal to a stranger: many experienced the same pattern. Some invested more time than I did. But deep inside, I failed myself, and I accepted my risks. Still, I have yet to have at least a third prize to get a direct university admission, no IELTS, no future orientation. Everything I planned to do after receiving the results of the National Olympiad collapsed. I could no longer read my books, enjoy my watching lists, learn a musical instrument, learn foreign languages, develop my club to the full potential, and even unwind after the past two concentration months. I was immersed in the whirlwind of studying without any enjoyment. I had to learn maths and literature to catch up with my class, and concurrently studying intensively for next year.
All the plans failed. I knew nothing to do but cry. But still, I am writing this, brimming with hopes for a new year. Why? I realized a had resilience. I could stand up where I fell. It may sound like a cliche but it is never easy to be realized. In grade 6, I broke down because I got 6.5 and could not pursue math. In grade 10, I began to fail every contest and project application. In grade 11, I failed my expectation of the National Olympiad. They are the three failures that made m cry most back then. But on thinking back, I cannot cry. Now, it is just a passing melancholy. But this year, this grade 11, it left a scar in my heart because I failed to understand this failure. I devoted my best to this competition and I received something I did not expect. I found out that my previous failures taught me a lesson and have a meaning. Either that I was being distracted and need to focus or that I should shift to another path. But NEC 2020 had no meaning to me so far, except to render me despondent.
Meandering along all the failures, I tried to look back to what I had achieved. A lot, I could see. And one of them is incredible: after two months of concentration studying only English, not only did I become the first tenth-grader to achieve a consolation prize but I also achieved the highest overall score in our school's test. I managed to catch up with my goal, not to feel left behind or disappointed over returning to my class. I admired that resilience.
Maybe this time, it did not give me a direct positive by-product but it allowed me to contemplate on myself and at least realizing that my resilience is special. Failures are an inevitable part of our lives, and we can live better by finding an excuse for them. Blame those disappointments on your misfortunes, your negligence, your unsuitability, or that you are learning a lesson. You may feel better in the sense that you do not shoulder the burden. When the pain heals, look back and see how far you have gone.
So far, this has been among the saddest years of my life. But it still earns me some lessons, relationships, and mixed feelings. I have befriended many a good companion, relived the feelings of disappointment, and understood that there will always be someone there to support me.
The past year started with high hopes, ambitions, and of course, a pre-determined path for a whole year, most of which has derailed. The past two years have been a period wherein I experience the highest frequency of failures and disappointment. It served as a milestone by marking a new life cycle of continuous failures and concomitant success intermingling. I still moved on.
コメント