If you had asked me when I was growing up whether I thought my mother loved me unconditionally, I would have said yes. But I didn't act as if I knew this truth.
A couple of weeks ago, during one of my increasingly common depressive moods, I asked my mother what would happen if I didn't pass my specialist exams.
I was a very happy child. A middle child, so I mostly minded my own business. Despite growing up in Asia, my parents have never really pressured me to succeed in school. I read books, built lego, did jigsaw puzzles, watched tv, and played with my brother and the neighbours. I didn't think anything about the future. I enjoyed school.
One day, I came back from school to tell my mother that I had ranked as the number 1 student in my class. Of course, I had no idea when I was sitting the exams that we were going to be ranked. I had no pre-conceived expectation that I was going to get an A. or 100%. And hence, I had no stress. My teacher was full of praise. My parents were overjoyed. They told all my relatives and all of our neighbours. Everybody said I was brilliant (for a 7 year old...).
From that day on, things were different. Now part of my identity had been crafted- I am 9 years old, I love mathematics and pink dresses, I am intelligent and obedient, my hobbies include riding my bike and reading books. For the most part, by God's grace, I performed well academically. Getting good grades never came as easily they had that first time in primary school, so sometimes I had to make sacrifices - I wouldn't play computer games too close to my exams, I had to limit my MSN chat time during the Yr 12 exams, as I got older I studied during the weekends and most evenings.
There is nothing wrong with being motivated to excel academically. I think I would want my own children to be motivated to succeed. But it starts to become worrying when your self worth is tied to your academic achievements. I recognised that it had come to that point for me. I told myself I just had to ace my final school exams, and then I was going to devote time to finding myself.
I joined clubs at university. I took up flute lessons and tennis lessons. I started attending church events more regularly. Then I started studying again. I couldn't bear the thought of not graduating with honours. I didn't want to be one of the students who hadn't published any research during university. I didn't think I could bear the shame of sitting a supplementary exam or re-submitting an assignment. So I studied hard.
Working life was very different. For the first time, I was liberated (mostly) from studying. But then I started stressing again. I didn't want to be one of those doctors who hung around for years and never got a speciality training spot. I got irritated whenever some kindly lady asked me whether I was going to specialise. I could see my seniors tired from years of shift work without any training prospects in sight. I was anxious.
I ended up getting onto training even earlier than I had planned. The six months before I started my new job were great- I had my future secured. I was in a training programme. I didn't have to try so hard anymore. February came, and I started in my new job. It's a steep learning curve. I have four exams to sit this year. If I don't pass them by the end of next year, I lose my spot on the programme. I'll have to apply for another job... somewhere. I'll be a nobody. Or worse... a failure.
I study every night. And every weekend. I have an amazing boyfriend who understands this compulsion- when he's not working a night shift, he comes over to my house and sits beside me and watches me study.
Many of you know I've been sleeping poorly. I wake up too early and I can't summon the courage to leave my bed until I've prayed. I sing worship songs on my drive to work to calm my nerves. Sometimes I still have palpitations by the time I reach work. Other times my bosses note my incompetence and I become tachycardic again.
So back to my question. What happens if I can't pass my exams, mum? I'm trying my best- but what if it isn't enough? Will you be disappointed with me? Because as much as it pleased me when my parents were proud of me, I was equally afraid of their disappointment.
My mother gave me a huge hug. "Don't be silly," she told me. "No matter what happens, mum and dad will always be proud of you". And I think for the first time, I finally believed her.
