Some days are dry, some days are leaky
Some days come clean, other days are sneaky
Some days take less but most days take more
Some slip through your fingers and onto the floor
Some days you’re quick but most days you’re speedy
Some days you use more force than is necessary
Some days just drop in on us
Some days are better than others
Great advice found in the lobby of my gym.
September was hard y’all. News that I’d failed the bar exam threw me into a veritable tailspin, where my only hope was a safe crash landing. On my way to solid ground, I encountered a barrage of mental, emotional, and spiritual challenges. From recalibrating my job search to dealing with student loan repayment, adjusting to life after failing the bar exam has been tough.
But now that October is here, much of the dust from September has settled. I can now see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel. What’s more, this week brought with it two indications that a new, more positive phase in post-fail life is beginning. The first thing that happened was my submission of a supplemental application to sit for the February exam. The second thing was receiving a copy of my essays from July, along with model answers for comparison. While the past several weeks have been more about finding my bearings and healing from the wounds inflicted in my first experience with the exam, the focus now shifts to determining exactly what went wrong in July and using that information to plot a course for success in February.
Turning in my application was rather symbolic. It solidified my commitment to try again. Before bar results came out, I often said that if I didn’t pass, I wouldn’t take it a second time. When I thought about how tough the summer had been, I honestly didn’t know if I was capable of going through it all over again. But sometime in the middle of September, I realized that by saying that I didn’t know if I could work as hard, or be as regimented as I was in the summer, I was shortchanging myself and my abilities. I was limiting my own potential to become better, stronger, and smarter. I realized that I had more than enough fight left in me, and that I was capable of enduring another crucible. Through these realizations, I found the resolve to try again.
Though I still haven’t received my exact score for the July exam (apparently that comes separately), comparing my essays to model answers will illuminate what went wrong the first time around and aid in developing a study plan over the next several months. When I first opened the packet, part of me still desperately hoped that somehow my exam software had malfunctioned on test day and my “passing” essays were never uploaded and graded, as a friend and I had jokingly discussed several weeks ago. But, there they were, all twelve of them. I haven’t mustered the courage to read them yet, but I look forward to using them to get to where I need to be in February.
Though things aren’t necessarily getting any easier, I feel a lot stronger than I did a month ago. I’m sure that challenges will continue to arise in this new phase of post-fail life, but I’m ready for it. It’s been hard, but I’m dealing. I’m surviving. Sometimes, that’s enough.
Q
One of the more unsettling feelings that I’ve dealt with since finding out that I failed the bar exam is an overall sense that I was left behind. It started almost immediately when it seemed that everyone around me had passed but somehow, I hadn’t. While others were celebrating clearing this huge hurdle and moving on to greater opportunity, I was still stuck in limbo.
Thankfully, two things helped me to work through these feelings. The first came in a conversation with my parents. When I described this feeling to them, they gave me this advice: It’s not about anyone else. It’s not about your friends. It’s not about your classmates. It’s not even about us. It’s about you and your career. My parents helped me to realize that by focusing on feeling left behind, I wasn’t concentrating on what was really important, which was getting up, dusting myself off, and figuring out what needed to be done next. It was ok to be disappointed, but beating myself up by wallowing in the notion that I’d choked when others hadn’t was counterproductive. What was more important was learning from the situation, using it to better myself, and plotting a new trajectory.
The second thing that helped me was reaching out to others who also didn’t pass. For the first couple of days, I didn’t know of a single person besides myself who’d failed, but I knew they were out there. I desperately wanted to reach out to them, not for the sake of perpetuating the adage that “misery loves company,” but for comradery, and comfort in the knowledge that I wasn’t alone. When we finally started to find one another, it helped me to realize that it wasn’t the end of the world and that our time would soon come as well. Many of them were already on their feet and taking steps to prepare for the next exam. Through them, I found inspiration to help me move forward.
The feeling of being left behind is still very much present. It comes up whenever my colleagues post about getting interviews and starting new jobs. But by recognizing that the feeling is ultimately misguided, and that I’m not alone, I’m able to keep those feelings at bay. This not only allows me to join my colleagues in their happiness, but to also stay focused on what’s most important: finishing strong in February.
Q
A great TED Talk that a friend sent me over the weekend.
“Think back for a moment to elementary school. You’re sitting there in class, and your teacher is handing back quiz papers, and one of them looks like this [displays a spelling test graded with a C-]. This is not mine, by the way. (Laughter) So there you are in grade school,and you know exactly what to think about the kid who got this paper. It’s the dumb kid, the troublemaker, the one who never does his homework. So by the time you are nine years old, you’ve already learned, first of all, that people who get stuff wrong are lazy, irresponsible dimwits — and second of all, that the way to succeed in life is to never make any mistakes . . . according to this, getting something wrong means there’s something wrong with us.“
Shock. Anger. Fear. Sadness. Hopelessness.
It’s hard to describe the barrage of emotions I’ve felt since finding out that I failed the bar exam on Saturday. After two months of bar prep followed by another month of anxiously awaiting the results, news that I’d failed came like a soul-crushing, blunt-force trauma. After putting forth so much time and effort in preparing for the exam, how could I have failed? Almost instantly, I found myself going to a very dark place.
Luckily, a few close friends and family members were there to talk me off the ledge. They let me know that it isn’t the end of the world, and that everything would be ok. Without them, I would be in a much worse headspace than I am now. So, in an effort to express my gratitude to the universe and pay their kindness forward, I decided to start this blog, Safe (Non)Passage.
My ultimate goal in creating this blog is to help others similarly positioned by chronicling my own experiences over the next several months, good and bad, positive and negative. I plan on discussing everything from finding temporary legal work to pay the bills to strategizing success for the exam in February. My hope is that Safe (Non)Passage will help others that have and will receive the unfortunate news that they’ve failed their exams. At the very least, I just want to let people know that they are not alone, and though we have some things to figure out, it’s going to be ok.
Yeah, life handed us a sack of lemons. So what? Let’s try and make us some lemonade.
Q
Safe (Non)Passage 