I came across this writing challenge on Substack with the prompt: Write about a time when you were afraid that you would fail at something. How did you conquer your fear?
Funny enough, I only remember these prompts when I’m completely stuck on what to write about, just like today. I haven’t really used any of it until today because this one took me back.
Last year, I did my seminar defense, and I don’t think I had ever been that nervous about anything in a long time. We had two seminars, one in Literature and the other in Language, but we were only required to defend one and submit the other. I chose to defend my Literature seminar as I’m not very good with language courses.
On the day of the defense, my confidence completely abandoned me. I did talk about it here the day after the defense. I was tense, my voice betrayed me, and at some point, I began to stutter. It felt like all the things I knew so well suddenly became distant, like I was trying to reach for facts that kept slipping through my fingers. Public speaking has never been my strength, but I stood there anyway, trying my best to hold myself together.
When it was over, and I felt like I had blown it, my friends reassured me. They said I did well. Even my panelists were kind but fear has a way of drowning out every good thing you hear. Deep down, I was convinced I hadn’t done enough.
The waiting period after that was even worse. It wasn’t just about the result anymore, but the possibility of failure, the what ifs that kept replaying in my mind. I didn’t want to have carryovers in any course, not to mention seminars. Doing that over with juniors would be embarrassing.
But at some point, I had to sit myself down and tell myself the truth, that no matter how much I worried, no matter how deeply I feared the outcome, it wouldn’t change anything. Not even by one percent.
So I let go, well, not completely, but enough to breathe. I told myself that what will be, will be. And then, this year, just three days ago, the results were finally released.
Trust my heart to race as I searched for my name. My hands trembled and for a moment, I almost didn’t want to look when I found my name. But I did, and there it was.
An A in Literature. A B in Language.
I can’t even begin to explain the relief, the joy, the disbelief. All that fear, all that worrying, and for what? It didn’t change the outcome but it made the wait heavier than it needed to be. If anything, that experience taught me that fear does not prepare you. It only exhausts you.
Food for thought
The only thing standing between us and peace, is the fear we refuse to let go of.
