"F" is for Failure

Hey mum, I never told you this but I failed a course in College on purpose.

It was the first time I ever failed something, like getting the big "F" on your report card kind of failed. I was always a very high achieving student all through elementary into high school, but when I went to College it changed me. Not in the way of being a "dropout" but in the way of I hated my first year of College. I remember the night I told you I didn't want to go to school right away after high school, and you lost it on me. You were so angry and said "well you can't stay here" and for the first time I thought "wow! am I getting kicked out?!"

I had been working at Fabricland, it was my first job, and I loved it. I also loved sewing and making things from scratch. So naturally I assumed "well if I'm good at this, then it must mean I could go to school for it." God, I was so wrong, and so were you. You loved when I came to you saying I wanted to go to school for Fashion Design, but that was because it was something you always had wished you'd done. I didn't know any better, I just knew I didn't want to be kicked out after high school, so I said fuck it.

I was already late to applying for school because I hadn't planned to. I didn't have any money saved, so that opened the door to the unwanted debt world. I kept trying to force myself to feel happy and excited because I didn't want to make you angry again. I wanted us to still be okay when I left.

First semester was when I really started experiencing depression and anxiety attacks for the first time. I remember one of my professors saying "only a handful of you will make it out of first year" and this made my stomach drop, because I already knew in that moment that I wouldn't be in that handful. I was so afraid of failing and having to tell you I failed. So I pushed myself to make sure I did well in all my classes, and I did. I did well, but I could feel by the time winter break came that the fire in me was dying.

I secretly had to go see a doctor to talk to him about my mental health, because it was starting to scare me, how I was feeling, and what I would experience alone. You suffer from severe depression, and although I knew this I couldn't bring myself to talk to you, because any time I tried, you would get angry and disregard what I was saying. You didn't want to believe that your daughter could possibly be going through the same thing.

So I pushed through and went into second semester feeling very under confident and unsure of myself and what I was doing with my life. I would drink 4-5 days a week with friends, I was distracted by boys, drugs, and this "college life." But when I was alone at night, everything would come closing in around me and it was terrifying. My body would shut down on me sometimes when the stress would get to be too much, and I literally would black out and faint. I started skipping one of my classes because well quite frankly I was really good at it, and it made me less interested in it as a result.

It eventually got to a point where I didn't even do my final exam piece for that class, and I knew I was going to fail. I didn't care though, I didn't want to do it and I didn't care what that meant. So I let myself fail. I remember getting my marks back and seeing the big "F" and thinking "Fuck" although I knew that's not what it stood for. I knew it meant that I would have to redo the class in order to go into 2nd year, which meant telling you, and therefore making you angry.

So I got the hell outta dodge and decided to transfer to a different program, and simply told you I wasn't cut out for fashion design; "too competitive" I had said. I graduated from that program with honours and a scholarship, but you had no idea that it took a big "F" to get me there.

I don't know if I'll ever tell you this, maybe one day, but I figure there's probably a lot of things I don't know about you. You might have a big "F" sitting in the back of your closet too that you'd rather not mention, and I figure that's okay. We can both have our "F's" and go about life as is, unknowing.

Happy Mother's Day!

I love you greatly.

P.S. Oh! I almost forgot, it was me who caused that porn virus to take over our computer when I was 8. I was very curious and quite frankly even at that age, thought it looked like a good time. But that's another story for another day. LOVE YOUUUUU xox