Perfectionism

The end of my degree is looming and my grades so far put me right on the borderline between a 2:1 and a first. For those who don't know about the English degree classifications, a first is as good as it gets. A 2:1 is the second best grade. Most people would be delighted with a 2:1 in a subject where the university is one of the best in the country.

Yet I can't shut up the tiny bit of my brain that says I must get a first or else.

At this point, with the grades I have from previous exams and assessments, I'd probably have to fail a module not to get a 2:1. I have a well-paid job already sorted for after I graduate and there's no condition to the offer. If I'm too ill to even sit my final exams or my project report spontaneously combusts meaning I somehow fail, I'll still have my employment sorted. I've had four years of taking part in societies and events, I've made friends, I've, by some miracle, found a boyfriend. As one friend put it, I've won university.

So why am I still terrified of getting anything but the best marks?

I would love to blame my parents. When I got the job offer, one of my dad's first comments (the actual first comment was "congratulations") was that now I had no distractions to stop me getting a first. But I've talked with my mum and I know she's happier that I've found a job I want than she would have been if I'd come out with a really high first and no idea about employment. My mum is happy for me and I know she won't think any less of me if I don't quite make the grades for a first.

The rational part of my brain knows it doesn't matter. I got AABB for my A-level results, which didn't give me the three As I needed for Oxford. Before the results, it seemed that missing out on my Oxford place would be the biggest disaster imaginable. But it happened. The world didn't end. I went to my second choice university and I've had a brilliant time here. I've been happy despite what, at the time, felt like a gigantic failure.

Now I face a situation that is far less drastic. I have nothing riding on these results. In a few years, no one will care if I get a first or a second, since potential employers will look at my work experience not my uni grades.

I can tell myself quite sensibly that these last marks don't matter. The classification of my degree is unimportant.

But, like so many times before, the rational part of my brain is not the loudest voice. The desire for perfection is shouting loudly enough to almost drown it out. That voice is telling me that it will be terrible if I miss out on a first by a few marks. That voice is telling me that I will be a failure.

Someone really needs to invent some way of gagging these paranoid parts of myself.