As I tidied up my room, I found two certificates tucked away in one of my compartments. The first one is a token of graduating from my respective college department. Meanwhile, the most valuable among them is this Dean's Lister. I got an average of 1.30 during my first semester last year, and I assumed my efforts were worth it. Every time I laid eyes on them, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment as my efforts were all validated. However, if I can travel to the past and peek at myself from five years ago, that's the only time I can assume that I finally healed. Time passes, but the lesson I learned from those times will never fade.
Five years ago, during our vacant, one of my classmates approached me and started talking about academics. I've always been more of an introvert, while he seemed to be a mix of introvert and extrovert. Interestingly, my best friend developed feelings for him, even though we found out he was already in a relationship. Anyway, that closest friend is also introverted and not showing much affection.
"Hey, Charles, where are you planning to study in college?" he asked.
"I'm going to CLSU," I replied confidently. "And what about you?" I asked in return.
"I'm going to PLV. I'm taking up BSIT. How about you?"
"I'll take BSA. It is a perfect job for introverts like me, and I know I can survive despite different setbacks since I'm good at Math. Our teacher thought it was only plus and minus, rightš¤”?"
Fast forward five years from that conversation, I was about to meet my adviser, who had recently been promoted to Dean in the College of Management and Accountancy. He was my professor for Fundamentals of Accounting last semester, and maybe I might brag that I'm one of his best students. He was strict, but he was gentle when it comes to teaching. As he prepared the necessary documents for my intended major shift, he unexpectedly asked me about the traumatic experience I went through a year ago.
"Why you don't want to shift to BSA?" he curiously asked, raising his eyebrows.
And this question reminded me again about my biggest "What if?" Of course, another core memory sent me about it again.
On the scorching day of May 31, 2022, I stumbled upon the CLSU Facebook post about the announcement of the results of the admission for the incoming first year student. Even though I hadn't called up the courage to open the link provided, my heart started to race and the beads of my sweat began to form on my forehead. My feelings were valid because CLSU was the only state university I had set my sights on. However, when I finally checked the result, it shattered my hopes and left me broken. That's when I immediately asked myself where I would go.
Of course, after receiving the result, it still left me in shock. It took more than four hours for the reality to sink in. We went to church right after, and there was no electricity then, so my mother only sent that unfortunate news from my aunt late. You know, although it still hurts, I pretend to be okay. However, when ten in the evening struck, and I was about to start writing a blog, my tears started to drop like a rainfall. I can't stop crying since I don't know if I can still gain that lost opportunity to study for free. I felt utterly lost, staggering on the edge of my sanity whenever I found myself alone.
After that day, my aunt from Singapore and Australia came to visit our family in the Philippines. While some of my batchmates were enjoying their success, I carried a heavy burden of regret for the path I had chosen. It felt like no one could truly comprehend the devastation I felt inside. In those moments, the only outlet that I can vent my thoughts is through blogging. Occasionally, I would mention my struggles to my relatives, but their understanding only provided partial comfort. They saw me as fine, but as I isolated to my bedroom, I felt an overwhelming sense of being lost.
That rejection is traumatic, if I was about, to be honest. There was a moment when I was about to watch a K-Drama to regret my terrible day. However, to my surprise, the scene I stumbled upon only intensified my feelings of sadness. It showed the main characters going through the process of college admission and feeling overwhelmed with my heartbreak. It hit me hard because it reminded me of an experience I knew I wouldn't get to have. The K-Drama I refer to is "My ID is a Gangnam Beauty," though.
If you're curious about whether I still had the opportunity to attend college, the answer is Yes. Despite the difficult circumstances surrounding my father's hospitalization due to a mild stroke, I took the confidence to enrol; in a private university and pursue a different course. I ended up choosing Banking and Microfinance, even though it was against my will. My cousin and I immediately got accepted to enroll since they didn't have any qualifying exams. But after receiving our ORF, I got problematic about paying for my tuition. Good thing my uncle volunteered to support my studies and ensured that I would make his efforts worthwhile.
And going back to the question of my adviser, I answered that miserable experience openly without a sense of regret and sadness. The truth is, I've found happiness in my life, and I no longer want to dwell on past miseries. Interestingly, half of the students from the BSA program last year ended up transferring to my current major due to their failure in the retention exam. I admit last year that every time I passed that university, it made me resentful. But now, I finally get moved on.
So what I learned from my experience is that our traumatic experiences can heal. It's okay to feel wrong about stuff sometimes. Just take your time to accept it wholeheartedly and move on. If it isn't destined for you, there's a better opportunity waiting for us. Someone in my comment in my past article told me rejection is just a redirection. I don't have any problems with tuition and allowance, though. And now, I'm living my life to the fullest as a college student.
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