I came to this realization probably at the worst timing: while I was taking practice exams for the MCAT (medical college admission test). I am currently chest deep in studying for the MCAT, which had been happening for 3 months now. All was going well until about a month ago, my practice scores went down hill. The most recent one I completed was today, and that one was the lowest I ever scored. I don't know what happened. I have been studying night and day, I tried to cover all the facts I have to know, but the problem is there just so god damn much information in these test. Then some questions are pure tricky. I am just so frustrated because I worked so so so hard for the past few months, and nothing seems like would ever improve my scores. To make matters worse, the real thing is this saturday. 

All I know is how much I am being affected by a low practice score. I have had 3 low practice scores now, and with each score put me into a deeper and deeper depression. Everyone around me were quick to remind me: " it's just a practice, don't take it to heart."  But I can't. Success as measured in some sort of number or grading system had became my way of validating myself. A way of measuring my own worthiness. Failing these practice exams means more than just doing bad on a practice; these scores physically hurt me. I feel defeated, physically and mentally. I am frustrated at the low score as well as my inability to recover from such score. I can't study anymore when i am in such a fragile mental state. 

As I tried to understand why "success" means so much to me, I remember my elementary school days. I was never good at school. When I was about 7, in 2nd grade in my home country, I was tested every week on vocabulary, but I was always bad at it. I distinctly remember the test note books came with grading grids, and next to each grade was a slot for a parent's signature: we were suppose to show our parents' scores and have them sign the book. I just remember my fear of showing her my notebook, how mad and disappointed my mom gets when she sees it. How she would yell at me for not doing well. I felt so powerless, so small, so unimportant. The one or two times I did do well on it, there were no praises; i am suppose to get good grades, nothing to praise about. 

One of my second grade teacher also told the class: "no one cares about how hard you work, we only care about your grades." Just like that, all my hard work was wiped clean, because they didn't matter if I didn't get good grades. 

I think since then, I've obsessed with grades and scores. I've work hard all my life to get good grades, not because I want to, but because I need to. I need the grades to feel wanted, I need to grades to feel normal. I need to know I am smart, otherwise I have nothing going for me.I am kind of a quiet person, don't have many friends, or even have a hobby. School and grades were the only thing I had. I don't want to feel the way I did in second grade agin, so I worked and worked and worked from high school until now.But failing these tests put me right back in second grade. It's almost like a form of PTSD (I know PTSD is not to be taken lightly, and I am in no way saying my symptoms are as severe as those in PTSD).