Failure, like art, is subjective.
The world defines failure in so many different ways. Be it based on a standardized test, be it social expectation with your position—father, mother, daughter, or be it assignment you did not meet. Everything you do could fail if viewed from the right angle.
For me, the worst angle is when you fail yourself. Breaking your own promises and goals hurt differently. Who cares if impossible societal standards were not met when you cannot commit to yourself? What more from the rest of the world?
Too much optimism is not bad. It just hurts sometimes.
I wish I held optimism as my banner, even if I fall short. But life has kicked me to the dirt a few more times over the past five years—than in my 20 years of existence, and so I am jaded.
The end of July was injected with excitement. I learned to celebrate my blog anniversary (mind you I had to learn to). Like a new year’s resolution, I was looking forward to dedicating more time to my blog and its ancillary activities. I wanted to learn to take more pictures and be more familiar with social media. I had plans for my monthly post. I wanted to be better.
Things I have been planning for over the past years and months were slowly materializing.
I finally put in the time and got my dog neutered at the end of July. I always wanted to get him fixed earlier, but I was too busy working to take care of a healing dog. He finally got neutered after getting him used to car rides, carries—he’s really too heavy for me to handle, and a strict flea control regiment. I bought him a dog seat and a cone of shame months in advance for training.
I also purchased the items that I wanted—if I would leave my regular nine to five. I applied for multiple positions that seemed very promising. I passed the first screening test for this editor/writer position that I hoped would replace my current job. I was more than ready to move forward.
On top of that, I dived headfirst into researching and reading about scholarships abroad. I dug through and found myself courses I was interested in. Master’s Degrees which aligned with the direction I think my life was leading were neatly bookmarked on my browser. I got to sit down and take a good, hard look at the requirements and pre-requisites.
Little did I know that one step forward meant a hundred or more back. Yes, I am overreacting. Let me grieve.
The tight rope snapped.
I was on cloud nine. I was in the middle of the rope when it ripped to threads. I was falling. It felt like forever before I hit the floor.
Firstly, my dog ripped off a stitch on my watch. I took the cone of shame off so I could easily administer medication. Like a flash, he ran away from me. He had a zoomie in fact—to commemorate his freedom from all that shame.
This aggravated his incision.
And when I turned away for a few seconds, he ripped one thread open. Blood dripped on the floor while tears and snot flowed all over my face.
This was my fault. I was alone. I didn’t have a car to take him back to the vet. I didn’t know how to carry this 20kg bleeding and injured dog. To top it all off, the rain was non-stop. I was terrified. I panicked.
Next, the editor position I was eyeing was flushed down the toilet. After procrastinating for a week, I finally applied for that position. It seemed very ideal. Out of all the different jobs I applied to, this one I wanted.
I applied on a Saturday and got feedback that Sunday to write six different stories based on dreams. All of these were edited and submitted within the week that followed. The writing and editing were done within strict deadlines ( 36 hrs, 5 pm, or 24 hrs). At the same time, I reported to the office every day for my regular nine to five.
I slept late most of that week. Gladly, all the hard work paid off when I passed that first stage. I was ecstatic. I was given that Saturday to rest but come Sunday night, I had 24hrs to make a 4000-word article on Forex Trading sites I tried and tested. At the same time, I had to complete two accounts for work that Monday as well.
That Monday morning was hectic. I was on and off the phone with my boss for the whole day. With all that had to be done, I only squeezed in about 1700 words for the test. On top of that, I had other household responsibilities that piled up. All motivation screeched to a halt.
I knew it was impossible, and I threw the prospect of landing this job was out the door.
Lastly, the scholarships I saw needed both your Bachelor’s Degree and your work experience to align. I hold a degree in communication. I work in a financial institution. Reading further, the degrees were not that specific, but the offered scholarships were strict.
The path of my life has been a mess. Where was I to go? What should I do from here? My scattered past couldn’t converge into one path for my future. I felt trapped like never before.
If you slam your head on the wall enough times, you either break it or your skull.
Then I hit the floor. It felt like I was back to square one. Everything I planned out went horribly. I was stuck.
There are many things the internet does not tell you when you get your pet fixed. You keep reading read about the pros and the cons that frame the operation as simple and easy. You see vets giving obvious after-surgery tips. It was not a major surgery, they said. Infections only happen if your dog licks the site, they said.
Having a big, older-ish dog (he was three) was never mentioned as a factor in recovery. No one said bigger dogs could aggravate the surgery site by sitting on it. No one also said they’d slam their butts hard on the floor to relieve pain or itch. And no one talks about all the possible swelling.
That scared me.
Since my dog did get a stitch out, my vet moved the date to remove the stitches due to inflammation. The more I read about things happening to my dog, I learned that fixing your dog can lead possibly to heightened aggression. This could result from the dip in overall testosterone levels. Was it right to get the procedure done this late?
If I wanted him fixed, I probably should have done it years prior. He probably was too old to go through this. I have probably even made his life worse. Dogs who are neutered tend to be more obese and tend to get hip injuries. My dog already looks like a fatty.
I hope I did not make the wrong decision.
On finding a new job and bagging a scholarship, I may have set myself up for failure. I really could not have possibly written good pieces for an Editor position while keeping up with the daily demand of my work. I’m not as young as I used to be, and back-to-back days of little sleep were bound to make me crash.
The reality of the scholarships probably served as a slap to my face. I should not waste two more years of my life on a discipline I would not practice. I was just using the idea of getting a Master’s Degree abroad as a means to leave the rut I feel like I am in.
And so, I fell back into that rut head first.
With all these things, I broke my skull. I did not make a dent on the wall, even with all my might. Even if I dedicated much of my time and energy to it, I fell. If things are are not for you, you will crash. And I am tired of trying and falling.
You’re stuck anyway. Face the music.
And so I stopped. I lay on the ground motionless and let my cracked skull heal on its own.
The rest of August and the first weeks of September were NOTHING. It was indeed a ghost month. And though I am well into September, I have been as stagnant as water in a stinky polluted creek.
I got stuck. I refused to move.
Walking my dog was a difficult task to get done. Even he refused to walk.
Every idea I had for August (like celebrating heroes or my dog recovering) remained as ideas. They are still scribbled on a notebook to this day. Even if I wanted to sit and write, every inch of me automatically reached for my phone or the remote.
I spent hours watching film after film and YouTube video after YouTube video. I never wrote. I stopped applying for jobs. I decided that probably getting a Master’s Degree was beyond me.
Lost in a loop, I no longer thought of my pitfalls. These were my distractions.
We all know that numbing the pain is great. It felt good to see other people moving forward with their lives, having fun. You hope at the back of your mind that maybe one day, that could be you.
I faced the music. I sat in my filth.
After walking into September, I was determined to start picking myself up. I hope things will slowly fall into place.
Busyzi 
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