A year ago, I caught myself crying after I realized that I had passed.

If I can remember it correctly, it was dawn when I was roused from my groggy pseudo-sleep by a phone call from the brother who was in Mindanao and who had, apparently, already checked the PRC website.

I found out later that I had 30 missed calls on the phone because I was asleep when the results came out at midnight. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️😆

So I was crying because, I swear, it had been a most neurotic few days of waiting.
After an extremely exhausting five months of self & group review, and a very, very long time after college.

I was crying because, human and frail as I was, there were times when I really doubted myself a lot, and I felt old and tired, and at some point I had wanted to walk away from everything.

I was crying because it was draining to feel unprepared, and vulnerable, and scared.

I was crying because of all the things I had to inauspiciously go through — the awful migraines, the crazy bouts of anxiety, the hormone surges, the missed things, the very late nights, the very early mornings, the confusions, the broken heart… ohhh yeah, the broken heart. 😆

I was crying because I had, for some reason, gotten so used to crying, while supplicating, and crying again, every single night, whenever I finished reading a chapter on Personality, or Abnormal Behavior.

I was crying, most probably because, it felt strange to have done something that was worth all the while again, after so long; after too long.

If I could remember it correctly, it was dawn when I found out that I had passed, and I was half asleep and half dreamy,

And it was surreal, 

And I was crying,

And my life had changed forever. 💕