Post-exam blues

On Post-exam depression

The exam was bad. I don't want to talk about it... but I think I should have been more organised with my studying and perhaps approached a different way... anyway I'm not going to think too much about it until the exam results come out. It is sufficient to say that perhaps it is the worst exam I have ever sat. At least with the Gamsat, it was ok to do badly because everyone does badly.

Immediately afterwards, I went to a shopping centre to comfort myself with the latest fashion, only to discover that I am now too old for the latest fashion (either that, or I am too sane to wear it). I went to disrupt a friend at his workplace, but immediately guilt added itself to my general bad-mood, as I realised that I was disrupting someone at their work. I picked up my brother from school, and he had nothing comforting to say but "Well, we'll have to wait and see. Are you still buying me dinner?" (Although later, to his credit, he said "If you're so smart, and failed that exam, I don't know how all those doctors became doctors." Not bad coming from a nine-year-old.)

Fast forward to Saturday, I didn't have work. My mum said: "I'm taking your brother to art class, then we can go shopping."

"Don't wanna shop", said I.
"What are you going to do at home?" at the time I was still sitting in bed, albeit reading a book.
"Dunno..."
"You're not going to just sit around and mope all day, are you?" My mum was getting worried now
I kept silent at this point, putting faith into the view that if you ignore them, they will go away. It doesn't always work, but it works enough to always try it.
"You're not going to just sit around and mope until you get the results, are you?" she repeated.
"Yes"
At this point, my mum set her jaw and said: "No, you are coming shopping with me." (Actually, she doesn't have the kind of jaw that you can set. But believe me, if she had that kind of jaw, then she would have set it at the point.)

My mum believes in a sort of cleansing after a traumatic event. A literal sort of cleansing. After my exam, I gave my study room a cursory sort of clean-up, putting my exam notes in a pile under my desk. I felt nauseous at the sight of them, and I thought that I will sort them out after I get the results.

I was sleeping when I heard the banging, and I knew it came from my study room. In it was my dear mother, with a big broom, and a big pile of dirt, scrunched up paper, and, yes, my exam notes, sprawled among the other stuff. "I have swept everything that is on the floor into this pile. I even reached under the desk and shelves. I want you to take out what is important and then sweep everything else up." I guess that is one way to face your phobia of study notes... On her way down stairs, my dear mother said: "Oh, I am also going to do some washing for you. I want you to empty your closet of all the things you should have washed. And be quick about it, I don't have all day."

This, I knew, was part of my mum's way of literal cleansing, but I had nothing particular that needed washing, that wasn't already in the laundry. But I knew my mother... if I told her that she will storm into my room and no doubt the drawers will yield a dirty sock and some shirts that I should have hung up but 'forgot' to do. I knew from experience that the easiest thing was to appease my mother with a few socks and some pyjamas, regardless of whether they needed washing or not. Then she left me alone to my moping.

Actually, I realised that I spend more time talking about moping than I actually do mope. The reason is that, when I am by myself, I try anything to take my mind off things. But the result is that all my friends seem to be a bit worried about me. I'm ok, really, I just complain a lot.

Just realised that this blog entry seemed to complain more about my dearest mother than about that exam. I hope she never reads this.