I failed. I failed again, and honestly, my life, my whole life, just ended in that moment. I then heard the front door. Just like last year. It was like deja vu. My mom came in and started preparing to make food. I panicked. How do I even tell her? Do I lie, what can I do? All I can do is tell my mom the truth. 

I mustered the courage and got out of bed, and it’s almost as if she knew. I just looked at her and started crying, and all I could tell her was “I didn’t get in.” 

One thing about my mom is that when she’s either angry or disappointed, she goes quiet. She ignores. And that is exactly what she did. 

She didn’t yell, didn’t react, didn’t lecture, just silence. Somehow, that hurt more than any other emotion she could have given me. 

I just stood behind her quietly crying before going back to my room and crawling under my blankets. All I could do was reread the email over and over again. Just thinking, maybe these words can change if I just look enough times. Maybe this is a fantasy. Maybe this is a lie. Maybe I’ll wake up.

I’m such an idiot. Why can’t I just reverse time? Why did I ruin my last chance? I cried the entire time. It was so bad my chest hurt. My eyes burned, my face was stuck. When dinner came around, and my mother called me to eat, I didn’t want to. I couldn’t face her. I didn’t want to be a nuisance to her. But I also didn’t want her to get more upset with me. So I did get up. I sat in the chair, my eyes swollen. Then my dad came home from work, all happy and normal, completely unaware of what had been happening. 

You know what the first thing he asked me was? “Have you been crying? Your face is all red, and your eyes are swollen.” 

Thanks dad. 

That was the final straw. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Before I could even answer, my mom told him. “She failed the nursing exam,” and the first words out of his mouth were “No, don’t tell me” with his eyes all wide in shock. 

I just got up. I had to. I ran straight to the bathroom, locked it. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look straight. I remember the tiles looking blurry. My eyes welled up in tears as I tried to make sense of why everything was just going south real fast. Everything hurt; all I could do was sit on the edge of the tub and wait. My heart was racing, and everything felt so tight.

I could hear my dad knocking on the door, telling me it’s ok. But the thing was, is that its not okay. Not even close. I eventually opened the door, and he stood there waiting to hug me. But even then, the hug felt like nothing. What was the point? I just walked to my bed and cried even more. 

If I’m being honest, I cried all summer. I cried every day, every night, all silently, but i cried. I cried doing chores, trying to sleep, trying to read. That whole summer, I wanted it all to end. Why did this happen? I could have been happy getting ready for nursing school. I couldn’t make everyone around me happy. Except in turn it became a depression, a heavy and hopeless summer. 

My mom and I are very close. But that summer, I felt a distance between us. She never outright said she was ashamed and disappointed in me, but I felt it. 

I was disappointed as her youngest child. The last child. The last one to finally make something of themselves. 

 One of my older siblings, within the same week, I failed. And my mother explained how I failed. And immediately, the conversation turned into what I should have done. 

Did I use the study website? Did I study enough? I’m too spoiled. I’m not trying. I’m given too much freedom. 

They weren’t trying to hurt me, but all those words were destroying me more than I could mentally bear. I just walked to my room and cried. Because YES, it was my fault. I did it. I ruined everything. I wasted my years. I wasted everyone’s expectations and sacrifices. 

Within that month, I broke down to another sibling and told them everything. The GPA, the exam, the pressure, all of it. And one thing they did ask me was “Why did I apply?” You’re right. Why did I apply? I felt the pressure from everyone because it’s not my decision; I wish it were, but it was my fear of falling behind that kept me from standing up for myself. Because everyone said this was the way, and somehow I would magically make it out. All of that regret and anger became madness. Why didn’t I wait? Why didn’t I listen? Why did I listen to anyone? Why force myself when I wasn’t ready?  

And after all that ranting and crying, my sibling looked at me and asked: “Do you want to play Minecraft?” And weirdly enough, that was the one thing that made me stop crying that summer. I’ve had Minecraft since I was 9. I don’t play it often, but whenever I have the urge, I play for hours. It calmed something in me, and all I could do was say yes. And for that bit, I forgot about everything. 

The next month, I kept isolating myself. Stayed in my room. Avoided text, friends, people, conversation, and reality. 

I did Google different majors, different careers, different requirements, colleges, and all the different ways I can move forward. Try to find some sort of backup, but everything felt wrong. I felt stupid, lost, and embarrassed. 

That whole summer, I dreamt of just running from home. Taking my phone and throwing it over some bridge, and I could be free from responsibility. Just look out towards the water and think about life. Just dream of freedom. 

Eventually, after a long summer, I did break the silence between my mom and me. I went to her room and apologized. Apologies for everything. The disappointment, the stress she’s under because of her failure. I told her I could finish my degree, and if she allowed, let me try again if she still believed in me. From that conversation, the tension between us softened, but it wasn’t like it was. Not completely 

And another thing that upset me was the same sibling who pooped on my train told their coworkers about me. Which led to my siblings’ coworker’s sister, who was again in the nursing program at my school, wanting to see my transcripts, grades, and everything. I hated that. 

Because why has my failure become a group decision? Why did I need strangers to have access to my worst moments? What were they going to do with my stuff? I said no. I kept it to myself. Because what was the point? I knew they couldn’t fight for me. I didn’t need anyone to criticize me when I was already hard on myself. 

But that was my summer. Crying, rotting in bed, trying to repair my relationship with myself, figure out who I am outside of nursing, and trying not to give up on myself.