Permission to speak freely, sir?

I’m appalled by the rebuttal, “there’s no need for more than that, it is as simple as it gets. Don’t think too much about the possibility of the hidden details, because it is not as complicated as you may think.”

For 4 years I have attempted the exam, and I have failed twice. Traumatic wouldn’t even describe the experiences of not seeing my name on the passing name list, but I do see the relevance behind both.

If I am to say, that I was naive, proud, to the extent of I underestimated the toughness of those exams, would you agree?

You might not, because even if I were to explain about the thoughts I had when I cried myself to sleep, not able to know my own weakness as I disregarded the possibility of me, who has been confident in my academic prowess, finally beaten by an exam which only allows 50% of people to pass worldwide, twice, you might think that I’m being melancholic.

4 years ago, I disembarked on a journey of pride, spending sleepless nights burying myself in textbooks, mock questions, my own notes even before I am officially entitled the title of a Medical Officer. I found it rewarding because my perspiration was unanswered by a well-printed letter of ‘congratulations’. It was 2 months since I started my psychiatry career. I was then greeted by my boss’ truthful words:

“Don’t worry, you will be a psychiatrist sooner or later. Don’t rush your way into it because your work experience will still be the milestone of your finesse. Take your time to learn, don’t worry.”

Although it was meant to be soothing, I was repelled by it. Driven by the urge to prove myself, I attempted the second part 3 months later.

Again, the letter with the ‘congratulations’ hit my doorstep. It was a kind gesture from the Gods I think, but I may have missed the cruelty behind that kindness.

Carrying the same momentum, same strategy, and same resolve, I hit the 3rd part of the exam. Not fully knowing the agenda and marking scheme, I read every book I could get my hands on. Guess what happened?

2 attempts, 16 thousand ringgit, years worth of sleepless nights caused both by anxiety and regret, I am still at the place I was in terms of the exam.

I know I have grown. 4 years in various hospitals, knowledge and skills gained given by those I spent time honing my skills with, who shared my heartbreaks and sorrows, with the same hope of overcoming this giant obstacles of skill and wits. We are holding each others’ hands marching to the battlefield, fully knowing the podium is only 50% of us.

I chose to leave my home when I realized that someone on the other side of the peninsular might have a better idea of helping me. However, it doesn’t mean that I spend none of my nights regretting my choice of leaving my loved ones. I have shed tears hoping I can undo my mistake: the mistake of pride and prejudice, the mistake of taking it lightly, and the mistake of thinking the 50% could be mine.

So, permission to speak freely, sir?

Thank you for your assurance, but I can’t afford to take it for granted anymore. For I wish to take it hard rather than regret my lightness of choices. I should doubt myself now, than I couldn’t bear the sight of myself in the mirror later.

If you think I may be misleading the crowd, I guess the only thing I can do is to keep my doubts to myself while absorbing everything then. I guess no harm can be done that way right? Since I keep the anxiety to myself?

Am I too hard on myself? You said yes.

My rebuttal? Victory loves preparation.