Tough Love

Everywhere I went, everything I did, it followed me. It was attached to me and wouldn’t leave my side. Even in my brightest moments when happiness took over everything, it was still in sight. It was dark, big, and looked at me with deep red eyes almost as if it had been holding its anger back forever. No matter where I went or what I did, my failure were always there reminding me of its presence.

Since I was little,  I’ve always been someone to refute any information with no evidence presented or to disagree with anyone who doesn’t hold a high credibility. I’ve never liked to agree with the common perspective of things and have always chosen to find new ways to solve problems. When I was 7 years old, I remember a conversation with my teacher. “Forget about the bad things that have happened to you, and focus on the future,” she said, “Try to put it behind you because they will only hold you back.” I, being someone to refute what she said, chose to do the complete opposite. I chose to always remember my failures in life and carry them with me wherever I go no matter what. Since then, I’ve decided that I would let my failures remind me of my defeat and use them to push myself to achieve greater success.

At the beginning of this school year, I was singed up for AP U.S. History, known to be one of the hardest classes available junior year. I went into the first trimester with my head high believing that it wouldn’t be as hard as people said it was. I was soon shocked by the work load and the difficulty of obtaining an A in the class. After my first paper, I received a low score based on the grading system for the class. Surprised that my score was so low, I called my mother over the phone that night. “It was very bad,” I told her. A long pause took over the phone as I waited for the inspirational motivational speech I was about to hear to help me do well in APUSH. “Hello,” I said, “What?” she replied in a sassy tone. “About the paper?” I reminded her, to which her response was, “Yeah I heard. Stop being salty about it and do better next time. Now you know what not to do, so try to figure out what the right thing to do it.” Already filled with defeat, her words put me down even more. I hung up the phone and threw it on my bed. Eventually I got over it and started working on homework again.

As the night progressed, I contemplated dropping the class. I thought of what other classes I could take, and if it would be worth staying in a hard class but getting an average grade.  I was mad at what my mom said. I called her for help, but all I got was an obvious response in a very sassy and sarcastic tone. Time passed as I started to think harder about what my mom had said. What she said wasn’t wrong, but the way she said it really didn’t help. Later that night I realized that what she said wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but was what I needed to hear. I started to have a flashback to the conversation I had with my teacher when I was 7. I decided that I would remember that paper, and think of it every time I was to write another paper. Since then, I’ve used that paper to motivate me to work even harder every time I write a new paper.

With the mentality of remembering the taste of failure to push myself to achieve greater success, I was able to get an A in the course by the second trimester. I’ve used this mentality with every other aspect in my life, whether it be for sports or academics, to constantly improve and get better. As I look back, I’m glad I’ve been dragging around the intangible weight of my failures, and will continue to always remember my defeat to improve and achieve greater success.

Things We Carry