I haven’t written in a while. There are a few reasons why.
I’m moving, so that’s a pain in the ass. Also between the holidays and a Skyrim binge, I haven’t had much time to spend writing. You know, because video-games are more important.
Anyways, the greatest reason is that I have been working through a recent bit of bad news.
See, I failed every one of my classes this semester…
And trust me, I’m not a bad student. I have been on the Dean’s list for the last two semesters and I’m pursuing a career in Veterinary Medicine. I don’t take academic success lightly. I despise C’s, so getting four F’s and a semester GPA of 0.0 has not been easy to accept.
If there was ever a time I needed to practice what I preach, it’s now.
Overall, I’m not too upset with the situation. Obviously, I am not happy about failing, but I am slowly coming to terms with it and I have already forgiven myself, which is good.
This was a terrible semester, personally, so there wasn’t much I could do to save my grades. And I tried my hardest, which is important to keep in mind.
The summer was brutal. I was working in a toxic environment with judgmental, and immature people. I had no support. From there, I transitioned to a less than exceptional living environment, with roommates I didn’t know. I am extremely sensitive to my environment and being forced to spend the majority of my time hidden in my room incubated depression.
So, I entered into a severe depressive cycle which manifested itself in new and debilitating physical symptoms. I couldn’t wake up for my classes because I was sleeping upwards of 14 hours a day. And, when I was awake, I couldn’t concentrate. My brain just would not focus.
School has never played a major role in my depression. If anything, it has always helped. Studying provides ample distraction from my emotions. But, this semester, the stress of knowing that I was doing so poorly in my classes just aggravated them.
Knowing this, I can reassure myself that my poor grades are completely a result of circumstances. It’s not that I’m lazy, or that I have a lack of drive, I just couldn’t succeed academically and deal with this depression at the same time. Essentially, I had to choose. And I chose to take care of myself.
The problem is, my mom and dad don’t understand this. To be honest, I’ll probably not tell them. At least not right now. I think I’ve finally learned how to cope well, and triumph over my depression.
Finding out that I failed my classes has proved to be a massive trigger. I have had the urge to self harm, to purge, and to end my life. I experienced the feeling of isolation and loneliness that had been absent for so long. I couldn’t rely on my friends or family to understand or talk to. So, for the last few days, I have been fighting, constantly to keep myself from resorting unhealthy coping mechanisms. At one point, I even thought that I should check myself back into the psychiatric hospital.
But, ultimately, I will be alright. I’m not going to let my grades kill me. I can see the light at the end of tunnel and, in my heart, I know that this semester will not hold me back. If anything, it is going to slingshot me ahead. I have taken the first steps towards beating depression. I see good things ahead. And i;m not going to let a few f’s hold me back from that. I have this outlet now, and I know how to deal with my depression. Now, it’s like an old friend. I can’t predict what it will do, but I can react in a healthy way and tell myself that it’s ok to fail. Because I am still alive, and finding happiness.
If some people don’t see depression as a real explanation for my grades, that’s ok. I know that it is, and I know that failing has actually given me much more than any A’s could.
Because, while I failed academically, I succeeded in learning how to cope.