How do I even begin to tell this story? How much I regret this to this day. At this point in my life, I had moved colleges; I was a third-year, and my GPA was a 2.3. Hi, hello, I’m Caitlin, and I’m panicking. 

I had one more class left before I could fully apply to the nursing program, and honestly. If I’m being 100% honest, I couldn’t do it anymore. Something deep in my heart knew this would never happen. 

My whole winter break, I spiraled. I spent hours calculating and thinking. 

“If I take this class and get an A”, “If I can retake this, “What if I delay another year?” What if, what if what if what if. How much can I raise my GPA? These thoughts didn’t stop. Over and over again, I felt insane. 

I wasn’t resting, I was panicking. By then, my parents were constantly on me. Everyone was, and this whole passing. Because it was the same conversation, same critiques from them. 

What was I doing? 

What was the point of graduating high school early?

What’s the point of my changing colleges?

Whats am i working towards, too?

What am I doing?

I’m a third year, what am I doing 

Truth is. 

I don’t even know. I just needed time. But nobody around me believed in slowing down. Everyone said I was getting old. Time was moving. People my age can do it, so should I. Accept it and move on. 

I remember my sibling telling me that their coworker’s young sister had already gotten into the nursing program at my school and was a year younger than I was. 

Stab to my heart. Hearing that made me angry and jealous. Why can’t that be me? Why do I bring shame? That was them. Not me. Why am I proof that I was behind and falling short? 

I even used the same program the girl used to pass her nursing entrance exam. And honestly, the material was much more concise than at my old college. I understood it and I grinded. But it was my darn GPA. That was the real problem. Not just the test but the record, my record. 

At that point, I met with the director of my major, and she is the kindest and most understanding woman. The kind who speaks softly when you are already stressed. Much better than my other counselor. But even she seemed worried about my GPA. And hearing that out loud just solidifies something in me. I just closed the meeting and lay in my bed. Looking up at my ceiling and thinking of what I could do. 

February came. Time for the exam. Again. 

This time, everyone was excited. Awaiting what the outcome was gonna be for this exam. Maybe this was the moment. Maybe this was me becoming the first nurse. Everything was going to be set for me. 

Just like the first time, I got ready, sat in front of my computer, logged into my exam, and began. 

Math got through it. English. Done. Comprehension. Ok. 

What is it with science? I knew it blew it. THE SECOND TIME TOO. The wording of the material, everything was not on the practice like what am I even paying the site to do omg. I just wanted to cry in front of the proctor. I couldn’t care at that point. Why me. Why does this happen to me? 

Even I writing this makes me so angry. These memories aren’t me longing but more like salt to the wound. I feel like it happened yesterday. Like the memories don’t leave. 

It’s my brain running on a constant loop of my doubts. What is my purpose? I finished that exam feeling like a chump. And when those results drop, I might as well run myself over. It was one of my lowest moments in life. I just crawled into bed and cried. Didn’t speak, didn’t move. Just lay there crying. When my parents came home, I just pretended to be asleep because what am I supposed to say? I did amazing? Im 100% going to pass. No! So I’d rather ignore than see them. 

But I persevere after all that. That semester, I focused on my GPA. If I flunk, then my GPA can save me. Something has to save me. Then my grades can give me some chance. That became my new goal. 

I grinded and kept up. I worked really hard. The truth is, it paid off. 

Except for anatomy. No matter how hard I tried, I kept slipping. Scores just were scoring. And slowly, I had no faith in myself again. I remember the girl I sat next to in lab got a really bad grade at the beginning, but then she started getting 90s by the end. Did I want to shoot myself? Yes. 

When the end of the semester rolled around, my GPA did go up. I was actually proud of myself. Proof that I can do it. I went from a 2.3 to a 2.7.

Then June rolled around. The second decision towards my future. Just like my old school, this was also dependent on GPA and scores. Please, whoever is up there, get me in. That’s all I ask. Maybe my score isn’t high, but something helps me. Begging. I don’t know, just help me. 

And then I got it. The email. 

I opened it so fast. 

Please, please let me pass. PLEASE!