failure.

I failed my driver's test eight months ago.

(Augustus Waters, because OBVIOUSLY)

I can't even explain how I felt when the instructor shook her head, clucked her tongue, and handed me the pale yellow sheet. A lot of mistakes, hun. You need more practice. Numb, maybe? Disbelieving? Because yeah, I completely botched my parallel park, but I never expected to fail.

I don't fail that often. Usually I work hard, and it shows. But this time, I put everything into this, I bugged my parents into taking me out when they really didn't want to, I gritted my teeth and merged and did left turns even though I was scared out of my wits. And it still wasn't good enough.
I wasn't good enough.

I can't explain how I felt sitting in the driver's seat, the keys still swinging from the ignition, knowing that I was somewhere on top of the yellow parking line (certainly not within it,) but I can tell you how I felt after the instructor had left and I'd climbed over into the passenger seat, because I wasn't about to drive home after THAT.

I couldn't even talk. I tried to explain to Mom what had happened, and I just couldn't. The words kept getting snarled in my throat, tears choking me. I cried all the half-hour drive home, sucking back deep, gutwrenching sobs and wiping the tears away until I couldn't see the trees outside the window. And when we finally got home I stumbled blindly (literally, blindly) through the front door and down to my bedroom, where I collapsed on the bed and let the tears come for I don't know how long.

It was a while.

(It's funny, the only thing I could think of to say was "thank goodness my mascara is waterproof." And if there's a more underwhelming statement in the WHOLE wide world, I don't know what it is.)


Because this deep sense of shame had needled its way into my heart, this embarrassing sense of being examined and found wanting, and maybe I'm just lucky but I'd never felt that before. I've had insecure moments, but never in my life has someone actually shaken their head at me and said, you're not good enough. And that stung. I felt almost sick to my stomach looking back on it, because how on earth could I expect to pass the second time when I'd already given it 100%? (Spoiler alert: I passed my second test in September, yay hurray!)

All this came at a rough time for me. I'd been feeling...sensitive lately, these niggling suspicions that my self-esteem wasn't as healthy as I'd always assumed were rearing their heads a little too often, and I was starting to notice self-deprecating comments coming out of my mouth before I could pull them back. I've always prided myself on being a bit set apart, not caring so much what other people thought of me. Or at least, I've always wanted to be that way. And right in the middle of the confused muddle that was me trying to wriggle free of my growing feelings of insecurity, WHAM
you're not good enough.

I still can't decide if it was coincidentally bad timing or if God was trying to get my attention, but it sure made me look up. Because, hello, why?

Maybe I'll never know. Maybe it was just one of those things. But maybe, somewhere down the road, it'll come in handy. Maybe someday I'll be talking to someone, and I'll be able to say, hey. You know what? No worries. I've failed too, once upon a couple of times. Let me tell you this story. 

(because let's face it, it makes a pretty good story. tons of drama.)

But anyways. Here's my story of a day not-so-long ago, that I'm not-so-proud of. Actually, I'd still really like to forget it. But that's kind of not the point, I think.


Dear friend. 

I've failed, too. What's your story?

xx
Olivia