So more than a month ago, I received a call telling me that I failed to pass the assessment centre for a job application that I really hoped would turn out well. I knew that I probably failed it but that call really made it a reality and that was when everything sort of came crashing down around me.
Close friends and those of you that actually follow this blog (meaning no one) would know that for the entirety of my final year at university, I was working towards two things: getting a job in the UK and scoring a first for my degree. I didn't get a first for my degree which I was sort of okay with if I got a job in the UK. In the end, both didn't work out the way I wanted them to. That call basically marked the beginning of the end of my time in the UK. I didn't have any other viable options and the only choice left was to book my flight back home to Malaysia.
It was a reality that I had a very hard time trying to come to terms with and till today, I still haven't gotten over it. I really don't think any other single event in my life has affected so strongly in an emotional sense. I think it was because it meant that a lot of the blood, sweat and tears that I've shed in the past year have basically come to naught. I haven't felt so much like a failure in my life.
And it wasn't just trying to live up to my own expectations of myself but also other people's expectations. I know that I really shouldn't be so affected by what other people think of me but when someone innocently asks me where I'll be staying in the UK and I have to explain to them that I did not get a job, I can't help but feel like I've failed on a bigger scale than I actually have.
The thing is that getting a job in the UK meant a lot more than the 'status and money' that quite a few people in my life assumed it was. I wanted to give myself a better life. I wanted to live in a place where I didn't have to hide so much of what I love to do. Having to come home meant that I had to put on a show everyday just so that people I love don't worry unnecessarily about me. It meant that I had to act like someone I wasn't.
Having to come home also meant that my relationship with many close friends would be coming to a physical end, it also meant ending a relationship with a person who meant a lot to me. The aftermath of that call was devastating in many ways and I genuinely wasn't emotionally prepared to handle all of that. It was a very hard time in my life and in many ways, it still is.
The idea that I'm a failure still haunts me very much to this very moment. In the one month that I've been home, I've experienced moments where everything just hits me and I just withdraw into this zombified version of me even when I'm with people. Dealing with the loss of a dream, of the ideal me, was, and still is, a very trying time.
But I really just want people to know (if anyone happens to read this), that I'm trying my best to get over this. I am doing my best to move on. My time in that beautiful mess of a country is past and I know that. Maybe I will go back. I certainly hope so. But I need to focus on the immediate future and what I'm going to do to achieve my long term goals in life. So, here I am, finally with a job. I still cry, I still hate myself but I'm getting better. I think I'm stronger than I was when I cried on the 13-hour flight back home and I think I'm learning to love myself again.
Life is hard but I'm not done with it yet. I still have places to go, people to meet and dreams to achieve. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't meant to be just yet.
Love,
Jiun
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