I can safely say that I’m scared, very scared. People seem to think I’m just saying that, because I’m getting very good at laughing off the idea of results day. Inside though, I’m not laughing. Inside, I’m crying, shaking, and panicking.
A Level results day, for many around the country, will be the most nerve wracking and important day of their lives so far, as well as potentially the most exciting, too. Results mean university, which is what a lot of teenagers in the UK are currently yearning for. I’m no different, I’m desperate to go to university.
I’ve noticed that recently, my need to clean everything has increased. I’ve cleaned the bathrooms, every day I’m tidying and cleaning the kitchen, I’ve had all the furniture out of my bedroom and cleaned it all. I’m cleaning the cats room more often (that one probably isn’t a bad thing!). I’m baking and cooking, and for once I’m cleaning up after myself, trying to leave everything perfectly. I’m doing the washing, I’m hoovering. I’ve not been asked to do most of these things. I don’t need to do them either. Some of them are my brother’s chores. Many of them are done either immediately before or after my mum’s cleaning day. Initially, I thought it was my OCD kicking back in. I thought that I was getting worse, and to some extent, my little OCD-esque traits probably are getting more frequent. This time though, I think there is another sub conscious reason for all this cleaning.
I want my parents to be proud of me.
I don’t think I’ve gotten into university. I simply do not think that my exams went well, and I don’t think I’ve achieved the required grades. I’m cleaning to help my family. I’m searching and scratching around for praise. I realise that the cleaning is only satisfying if my parents thank me afterwards, or comment on how much easier its made things for them. If they fail to do this, I’m not getting the same kick from the cleaning as I would otherwise.
The problem is, of course, that I have pushy parents. If I don’t get into university, they won’t be happy. They’ll probably even be angry. That’s something that many teenagers and adults around me struggle to understand, but it is a large part of why I get stressed about results. Yes, I put pressure on myself, but I have to, because I have to meet the expectations of my parents. Last year, I got my first B, and they weren’t best pleased. My dad even asked why I hadn’t got any A stars. Because you can’t get an A* at AS Level, dad.
It doesn’t make sense, and it’s completely crazy, but somewhere deep down, it appears that my brain has concluded that if I can please my parents now, it won’t matter if results day doesn’t exactly go to plan.
I wish it was that simple.
Living. Laughing. Loving.