Emotion Sickness.

So today is the day that I was meant to be in Otago. Starting O week. Starting my midwifery career.

It may come as a surprise to you that today is the single hardest days of my life.

Let me hesitantly compare this to the recent death of my father, and explain why this hurts more than losing him. Why today is the worst day of my life.

You see, I am an atheist, a very committed one at that. I believe in nothing but science.
The death of my father was, for a lack of a better term, easy to accept. Because everything that happened to him, happened as science meant it to. There was a solid and understandable explanation for why his heart stopped beating and why when we turned the machines off, he never woke up.
But of course there is an undeniable pain. There is the pain of losing my parent. My Dad is gone and I will never see him again. But I knew my Dad well enough to know that he wouldn't be for me wallowing in his passing. I know what happened, I know why it happened. And so as Dad would've expected, I have accepted it and I have let it go. Many people mightn't understand this, and will question my love, sanity, emotional wellbeing and all other aspects of my person. But it is how I am, it is who I am. And I know Dad would more than likely be proud of me for not wallowing in misery at his passing.

So how does the death of my Dad not trump my failure to get into my degree?

It's because I have no explanation. I have no scientific reason behind why I didn't get in. Why I worked my ass off and it amounted to nothing.
There is no black and white, typed out reason why I didn't get into this degree.
What makes this even harder for me is that this is probably one of the only times in my life that I committed to something, and followed through.
My perpetually pessimistic younger brother has always told me to never have expectations, then you can never be disappointed.

Right now, I'm joining his team.

Because fuck this.

I was intending to make this a deep and insightful entry.
But it's resulted in me sobbing and no longer having the dexterity or brain capacity to keep typing.
I am a heartbroken mess.

I have failed.

I have failed and nothing anyone says can change it. Yes I can try again next year. Maybe. But that's far beyond the point.

The next person who asks me what my plans are now is going to get punched in the throat.