I Thought I Was a Failure
I failed my drivers test four times. I thought I was a failure.
I passed my theory test on my first try.
So I thought the hard part was over.
Then I failed my driving test four times.
I’m shaking as I’m waiting for the driving instructor. I’m about to get my driver’s license if I pass this driving test.
As we enter the car, my hands are starting to slip because of the sweat…
I tell myself,
It’s okay, I’ll just focus on the road.
As we’re driving out, the instructor is dead quiet. She just tells me where to go…
As she’s writing down or filling in the check marks…
I think I made a tiny mistake…
Oh no, let me glance over and see what she’s doing…
But because of that now I’m so focused on not failing that I’m not driving properly.
…
The test was going well still, but now I had to reverse into a road.
This seems pretty easy, no cars here…
As I turn, somehow I almost turn off the road…
Do it again…
Now, I have to do it correctly, or she will think that I don’t deserve to pass.
…
Again, I can’t reverse properly. What am I doing wrong?
…
Now, the drive back to the driving school was awful…
I’m still hopeful, maybe there’s a chance?
Yeah, unfortunately Alex. You’ve failed the test.
…
I tell her I understand…
Then as I leave the place I cry…
I try to dry my tears with my shirt…
45 minutes pass before I even get the courage to tell my father.
…
I passed the theory test on my first try.
I genuinely thought I would pass this too.
Now I have to call my father...
and tell him I failed.
Okay, I’m driving quite well this time, the instructor doesn’t seem so cold and serious…
I’m smiling a little bit as I’m driving…
I signal correctly…
Maintain the correct speed…
And check my mirrors constantly…
…
I accidentally make a mistake. But it’s small…
I think to myself…
No, I’m not going to look at the instructor. Stay focused on the road, I got this.
…
The last part of the test comes up, he looks satisfied. So now all I have to do is park the car.
He tells me, out of any of these spots just park the car in…
I want to prove to him I could park next to a car, I will prove myself to him…
…
I’m literally parking one centimeter next to this other car, the car instructor yells…
Stop, stop… STOP!
I quickly stop… And he tells me to look…
I did it again, I messed up. If I were to have continued I would’ve scratched the car.
…
Alex, why didn’t you just pick one of the open spots?
Yeah, I don’t know. I messed up. I completely understand why I failed.
The first test, I could blame my nerves.
But this time?
I had chosen the harder parking spot myself.
There were empty spots everywhere.
Why would I do that?
For the first time, I wasn’t just disappointed that I’d failed.
I was disappointed in myself.
…
I don’t even want to cry… I’m just disappointing in myself, I call my father to pick me up…
And as I’m telling him why I failed, he tells me it’s all good.
But telling him why I failed this time, was the hardest thing ever.
I thought because I was so close to passing my second driving test I would get it the third time.
But I somehow kept failing and failing,
My third driving test, I drive too slowly in a roundabout. And the instructor looks annoyed.
…
Maybe, I’m just bad at driving,
Why don’t I just take the bus or train…
I never should’ve ever taken this driving license.
I hate this, I hate this…
…
I take my fourth driving test, and this time I’m not even feeling anything, I just focus on the road…
I messed up seriously again…
Having to tell my father that I failed again…
I feel so numb as I have to tell him again, that I failed.
The first time I failed, I cried because I couldn’t believe I’d failed.
By the fourth time, I barely reacted because I could believe it.
Failure had become what I expected from myself.
All these driving tests I took at a big city that was unfamiliar, now I got a test in the city where I learnt…
As I’m heading for the test, I drink a red bull…
I got this, I’m going to fucking pass this no matter what…
…
As I’m driving, I’m literally smiling…
The instructor is doing his thing…
On my first test, every time the instructor wrote something down, I wanted to know what it meant.
Did I mess up? Does she think I’m bad? Am I failing?
Four failures later, something was different.
He could write whatever he wanted.
I didn’t look over to see his reaction…
My job wasn’t to convince him I was a good driver.
My job was to drive.
…
As I pull into the driving school, he looks at me.
Oh no, I probably failed again,
…
Is he giving me that look?
…
Alexander, you drove really well.
You passed.
…
Really! oh my god thank you sir!
Yes, you drove really well. You made a few mistakes but I would say you’re very competent.
I smile so much I end up giving him a handshake.
…
Then I call my father, and my parents are extremely happy and proud of me.
Passing the theory test once didn’t make me a genius.
Failing the driving test four times didn’t make me a failure.
Passing the fifth didn’t suddenly make me a winner.
They were results. I was the one turning them into identities.
Somewhere along the way, I had stopped saying:
I failed.
And started thinking:
I’m a failure.
Those sound almost identical.
But one describes something that happened.
The other describes who I am.
And if I could turn four failed driving tests into an identity...
I started wondering what else in my life I’d done the same thing with.
Maybe failing doesn’t tell you who you are.
Maybe it only tells you what happened this time.