I'm "That Girl"
Come on. You know who "That Girl" is. You probably laughed about her with your friends. I did too, when I heard about "That Girl" before the bar.
But now I know the truth. "That Girl" can't help it. She has feelings too. Just because she shouldn't be permitted out among decent society doesn't mean she doesn't deserve the same respect and consideration you'd give any sane, socially appropriate person.
So I'm "That Girl." "That Girl" who throws up during the bar exam. "That Girl" who developed an obnoxious habit of TALKING to her test while doing practice questions and found she couldn't stop during the real thing -- silently, but nevertheless clearly shaking her head and mouthing, "NO! He can't do THAT!" to her questions. "That Girl" who talks too much before the exam starts and finds herself doing weird twisty things with her arms during the test and smooshing her face into bizarre expressions and at one point actually started involuntarily slapping her cheeks before she realized people were, you know, STARING, and she really ought to stop.
Ugh.
So, the bar exam sucked. The MBE kicked my ass and destroyed any confidence I might have had.
Not surprisingly, then, it caused me to have a major bar exam freak-out that night. (I debated whether to even write about it, but I find myself already trying to pretend I didn't feel that bad. I feel like I need to get the truth down before I'm able to rewrite this all in my head.)
I was already nervous about the essays, more so than any other portion of the test. I felt like I just didn't know nearly enough, wasn't prepared, etc. And then I was so sick on Wednesday, and it just got worse during the night. I was lying there trying to sleep and my heart was racing and I was absolutely terrified.
All I could think about was how I had already failed the bar on the MBE and it wasn't going to get any better on Thursday. I imagined in excruciating detail what it would be like to go to the pass list in November and not see my name.
How people would be kind of sympathetic but also a little smug and confused and thinking about how they're smarter than me and wondering how I've managed to get by so far when I'm clearly not that bright after all and how did I manage to trick everyone?
I came to terms with the public humiliation factor, mostly, but that didn't help with the "how I will feel if I fail" element.
So by this point it's 3 in the morning and I'm still sick to my stomach and my chest feels so tight and it's hard to breathe and my heart is skipping beats and I'm thinking, "Maybe this is what a heart attack feels like." I decided it was just an anxiety attack, but that didn't help.
So that was my night.
The essays themselves? Pretty much reasonable, I'd say. I did what I could with them, typed like a maniac, didn't feel all that bad. I didn't do great, but I tried to get the relevant rules up there and analyze my ass off, even when I knew I wasn't really on the right track. Partial credit is my friend.
I wasn't really a ball of energy last night. I went out, ate my Indian food...was feeling a little bit better, though soon it became clear that I wasn't fully recovered, so I had to lay off.
I hugged little Baby A and kissed her chubby cheeks and her chubby arms and her chubby thighs and her chubby little tummy. I still love her even though she pooped on me –- AND my bed –- when she came to visit me at the hotel on Tuesday night. :-O
I came home and went into manic mode, started cleaning everything up and organizing stuff. I didn't finish until 1 in the morning. Then I sat down with...wait for it...some Tab and brandy (there's a twist you could never have predicted!), had two sips, and next thing I knew I woke up and it was 3 in the morning. Stumbled off to bed. Got up at 1 this afternoon.
This is my life.
