Grace

I cried the other day (23rd June 2005) when I saw my name on a white piece of paper in my department.

The night before I was lying in bed and the three years of university life played itself out in my head.
Amidst silent anxious prayers, fits of paranoia and waves of feeling absolutely ludicrous about myself, I mused about what awaited me the next day and whether things would turn out the way I wanted it to, or the way it should, whether it was my way or not.

I thought about the all-nighters of absolute agony - whether it would all pay off, or prove itself too risky a way of getting through my degree.
It was nostalgic recall, the number of times I had stupidly left crucial essays to the very last minute, only to struggle through the night, the lowest point being 5-6am in the morning, feeling sick with mental and physical exhaustion, heightening at the first sign of daylight rising to mock me. Of course, then looking a right wreck through the next day, running into departments to meet deadlines - then swearing never again to abuse myself in that manner......

... only to repeat the entire process in a very excruciating (and perverse) way of torturing myself.

Then I remember the crazy year being on the exec and doing all those performances from primary schools to regional competitions.... all that mental podium dancing and general craziness....

the elation of pushing the limits of neurological boundaries...

the feeling-bad-about-going-out-when-i've-got-so-much-work-to-do-feeling...

the self-comforting thoughts...

the self-doubt and self-blame....

In the end, I knew that one's intelligence is not defined by a piece of paper. But if I didn't achieve what I knew I was capable of achieving... I knew I had only me to blame for not meeting self-expectations (not to mention family/*/other expectations). I only prayed I would have the Grace to accept what was to come.

I had butterflies in my stomach before it all climaxed, I was nervous I couldn't eat. I gripped B's hand, gave M a tight hug. I took comfort I wasn't the only one who wasn't sure of their end result...

In my head, all I could think about was it's just a piece of paper

In my deeper mind, I knew if my exams went as well as I thought it did - there wasn't a reason why I wouldn't get it.

In my heart, I was afraid something went wrong somewhere - or someone somewhere decided I had played too much for my own good.

I then saw that fateful piece of white paper and couldn't decide which part of it paper I should look under for my name - class one or two.

I went with the top and deliriously discovered my surname in the said list - I got my first class degree with honours.

I jumped up and squeezed her so tight I thought we both would pop. I cried a little, and then a little bit more.. from all that tension and anxiety and proceeded to share my joys with the ones that mattered.

In all that relief that overwhelmed me, all I remembered was His Grace.

I was cutting it fine with all the chances I took, playing with time and my degree - but in the end, I realised it was a fine balance.

Amidst all the tears and emotion and hugs and goodbyes, I silently gave thanks that I made it.