In the words of my favorite deranged sorority girl “tie yourself down to whatever chair you’re sitting in because this
Since May 20th I’ve been having nightmares about failing the bar exam. On October 24th those nightmares became a reality.
I studied about 14 hours a day, I attended EVERY SINGLE LECTURE, I outlined, made note cards, I deleted social media, I took countless practice tests, I adjusted my study habits if I thought it could help me retain more, I didn’t go out with friends, I barely spoke to my family, and when I was en route to study or on my way home I did multiple choice questions on a Bar Exam phone app. I essentially did everything I was told was necessary in order to pass the exam. And yet I failed.
To make matters worse I thought I passed. I felt very confident after taking the exam up until the moment that I opened my mailbox and saw the letter sitting inside of it. You see, throughout this entire experience past bar takers (both passers and failers) told me that a big envelope meant you failed because it contains reapplication materials. And a little envelope meant you passed because it would just contain a letter of congratulations.
On the morning I was told I would find out, I walked down five flights of stairs to my mailbox. I was on the phone with my boyfriend at the time because he couldn’t physically be there, but he wanted to be on the phone with me when I got the good news. So I open my mailbox and gasp because there is one small envelope. In my head I’m thinking I passed. So I’m getting excited over the phone, and my boyfriends excited too because I gasped and said “omg it’s a small envelope”. I’m shaking so hard, and I can barely breathe. I drop to my knees, rip the envelope open and scan the letter for the word “congratulations”. Instead I read “we regret to inform you…”. At this point I am so thrown. I reread the letter over and over. My boyfriend is still on the phone and he excitedly asks “what does it say?!” I am in shock and I reread the letter again this time out loud. My boyfriend is quiet for a while and then he asks “are you kidding?”.
To be fair I am the kind of person to make a joke like that. I tell him I’m not kidding and that I have to go. I text my friends and tell them I failed. I called my best friend Anita, who answers the phone excitedly ready for good news. I tell her that I fail. She asks “are you joking?”. I promise myself that I will never tell a joke like that again. I call my sister Lesa. At the time she was at her home showing my other sister Tessa the new dining room table she bought. I tell her that I fail. She asks if it’s a joke. I start to cry and she laughs and says “are you laughing?!” I begin to sob and she clarifies for my sister Tessa that I am not laughing. I hang up with her and I walk up and down the stairs of my building. I retrace my steps from apartment door to my mailbox over and over muttering “this can’t be happening, this isn’t happening to me”.
It’s been about two weeks since I found out I failed. I think for the most part I’m doing well. However, a large percentage of my friends did pass. Sometimes I don’t talk to anyone. I turn off the notifications on my phone, I ignore Facebook messages, I scroll past Facebook statuses that say “I am so excited to announce that I passed the bar exam!” while rolling my eyes. I am happy for my friends. I am so happy for everyone who passed. I was with them while they studied. I know exactly how hard they worked and how stressed they were. So I am overjoyed for them. And they are “so sad” for me, and they think that “it’s so not fair”, and that “the bar exam is a fucking joke“, and that I’m “awesome and it really doesn’t even matter”. ← That right there. That’s the shit that pisses me off. It so fucking matters. The exam is not a fucking joke. Oh? Are you sad for me? Yea I’m sad for me too and this is great because I was so looking forward to your pity. This is wonderful. Thank you.
I just ranted a little bit. But the point is it sucks. Failing sucked. Failing by only 4 points sucked more. Having everyone react as if I found out that I’m terminally ill is the WORST (you’re keeping me in your prayers? Am I dying?).
But I will ignore all of it. I will somehow muster up the strength to study harder and longer than I did the last time. I will take the bar again in February.
So…here we go I guess.