I wish I could tell you that this achievement was smooth sailing. I wish I could just equip you with words of wisdom and motivational anecdotes, and voila, you'd be on your way to success. But the truth is that this was one of the hardest mountains I had ever had to climb, and I paid so heavily for it. This isn't an entry for studying tips to an intellectual plateau. This is a story of the journey, the road paved with of life lessons and self discovery. And a frank one at that.
I left Malaysia three years ago with the absolute naivety of youth, a confident young girl prepared to take on the world. In all honesty the education was not a priority for me; my main goal was to live abroad, to taste a sip of the world at large, to carve my own existence outside of my comfort zone. I'm aware that I was one of the immensely lucky ones to even receive the opportunity to pursue a university career overseas. I received that and so much more.
I'm telling you here, now, that I failed my first year. For whichever specific reason, I'm not sure it matters. Maybe I just didn't want to study. Maybe I had too much fun playing around and got distracted, or maybe I was simply homesick and careless. The bottom line was that I didn't devote any effort into that first year. It came to a point where I made that conscious decision to just let it go, to fail that semester. It made for a very complicated situation, especially as I was under a scholarship. Following that first year, I didn't know if I would ever continue my studies. I seriously debated deferring my semester.
I faced that summer in a conundrum, but eventually reconsidered my position. I had manufactured myself into this chapter of my life, and it was my responsibility to fulfill the obligation I had to my parents, my friends, my sponsors, and everyone else who had given support in this endeavour. This chapter in my life wasn't for me alone, and at the end of the day, I couldn't be so childishly selfish as to walk away from this opportunity that I had worked so hard to attain. I returned to UK to repeat my first year with new resolve. And for a while, I had it under control. But the thing about doing something for other people is that it becomes a personal conflict within you. And thus this conflict consumed me, to a point where two weeks in February 2016, I disappeared from myself altogether.
I shut myself away from my friends, family, and the public. Perhaps some of you may have noticed it back then, too. I retreated from most forms of online communication and socialising (even switching off my whatsapp), locked myself up in my room, for a long stretch of time. I cried and prayed and thought of ending it all. This seems so dramatic in retrospect; but believe me when I say that the vacuum of depression was indescribable. It drowned me into an abyss of enormous misery and negativity. I hold so much respect for anyone who has gone through it. To doubt the your very own existence, and still stay intact.
Somehow, thankfully, I emerged from that mental battle, that cocoon. To this day I consider the experience to be one of the most exhausting, draining and scary period of my life. I got through it with the kindness of certain friends, with faith, and sheer will. I submitted my technical report. I submitted my design project - even receiving the most encouraging commendation from my tutors. I grew from that point a different side: a slightly battered, more vulnerable, more cautious, wary, introverted me. It was one of the things I never expected to become all my life. I was always the happy, outgoing girl. That struggle changed me as a person, and became an ever present reminder of how the best of us are not impregnable. It reminded me to heed my flaws, to acknowledge my humility, and to grow from it.
This wasn't the end of it, though. That summer I was notified that my sponsor would not allow me to extend my final year overseas under their sponsorship. I chased the officers, writing numerous formal letters, pouring my effort into convincing them to allow me to finish. Not to continue - but finish. I spent two month in total uncertainty of my future as I awaited the results of my appeal. I worked 6 days a week, 3 hours away from the city, and came to London to attend university once a week in the meantime. Come October, my case was approved, I quit my job, and devoted my energy into making it for my final year.
These past 8 months have been dedicated to the concluding chapter of my architectural education. No distractions, no other objectives than to simply complete it and come out of it victorious. I spent two months of the eventual weeks in the library, every day from 9am to 3am. Pouring my energy into books, design, software - from critical research to crafting models to conjuring drawings. I didn't even travel much. Once, really, for my birthday, after my thesis submission, to Vienna. I invested my energy into my responsibilities, and gained a First Class for my thesis, and a commendation for my Design.
Now it's August 2017, and I've received my Masters. But more that than, I've grown into a bigger person, more humble, more grounded, equipped with the knowledge that I'm not a quitter.
No, I won't be a quitter.
I left Malaysia three years ago with the absolute naivety of youth, a confident young girl prepared to take on the world. In all honesty the education was not a priority for me; my main goal was to live abroad, to taste a sip of the world at large, to carve my own existence outside of my comfort zone. I'm aware that I was one of the immensely lucky ones to even receive the opportunity to pursue a university career overseas. I received that and so much more.
I'm telling you here, now, that I failed my first year. For whichever specific reason, I'm not sure it matters. Maybe I just didn't want to study. Maybe I had too much fun playing around and got distracted, or maybe I was simply homesick and careless. The bottom line was that I didn't devote any effort into that first year. It came to a point where I made that conscious decision to just let it go, to fail that semester. It made for a very complicated situation, especially as I was under a scholarship. Following that first year, I didn't know if I would ever continue my studies. I seriously debated deferring my semester.
I faced that summer in a conundrum, but eventually reconsidered my position. I had manufactured myself into this chapter of my life, and it was my responsibility to fulfill the obligation I had to my parents, my friends, my sponsors, and everyone else who had given support in this endeavour. This chapter in my life wasn't for me alone, and at the end of the day, I couldn't be so childishly selfish as to walk away from this opportunity that I had worked so hard to attain. I returned to UK to repeat my first year with new resolve. And for a while, I had it under control. But the thing about doing something for other people is that it becomes a personal conflict within you. And thus this conflict consumed me, to a point where two weeks in February 2016, I disappeared from myself altogether.
I shut myself away from my friends, family, and the public. Perhaps some of you may have noticed it back then, too. I retreated from most forms of online communication and socialising (even switching off my whatsapp), locked myself up in my room, for a long stretch of time. I cried and prayed and thought of ending it all. This seems so dramatic in retrospect; but believe me when I say that the vacuum of depression was indescribable. It drowned me into an abyss of enormous misery and negativity. I hold so much respect for anyone who has gone through it. To doubt the your very own existence, and still stay intact.
Somehow, thankfully, I emerged from that mental battle, that cocoon. To this day I consider the experience to be one of the most exhausting, draining and scary period of my life. I got through it with the kindness of certain friends, with faith, and sheer will. I submitted my technical report. I submitted my design project - even receiving the most encouraging commendation from my tutors. I grew from that point a different side: a slightly battered, more vulnerable, more cautious, wary, introverted me. It was one of the things I never expected to become all my life. I was always the happy, outgoing girl. That struggle changed me as a person, and became an ever present reminder of how the best of us are not impregnable. It reminded me to heed my flaws, to acknowledge my humility, and to grow from it.
This wasn't the end of it, though. That summer I was notified that my sponsor would not allow me to extend my final year overseas under their sponsorship. I chased the officers, writing numerous formal letters, pouring my effort into convincing them to allow me to finish. Not to continue - but finish. I spent two month in total uncertainty of my future as I awaited the results of my appeal. I worked 6 days a week, 3 hours away from the city, and came to London to attend university once a week in the meantime. Come October, my case was approved, I quit my job, and devoted my energy into making it for my final year.
These past 8 months have been dedicated to the concluding chapter of my architectural education. No distractions, no other objectives than to simply complete it and come out of it victorious. I spent two months of the eventual weeks in the library, every day from 9am to 3am. Pouring my energy into books, design, software - from critical research to crafting models to conjuring drawings. I didn't even travel much. Once, really, for my birthday, after my thesis submission, to Vienna. I invested my energy into my responsibilities, and gained a First Class for my thesis, and a commendation for my Design.
Now it's August 2017, and I've received my Masters. But more that than, I've grown into a bigger person, more humble, more grounded, equipped with the knowledge that I'm not a quitter.
No, I won't be a quitter.
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