Jugo, Charisse P.
BS Psychology 3-1
[A4] Reflection Exercise: Person-Centered Therapy
During my third year of college, I failed a subject for a second time, and it felt like
the world was crashing down on me. College had always been challenging, but this
time, it felt like I’d hit a wall. I’d already failed a chemistry subject in my second year,
and back then, I didn’t tell my parents. I was too scared of their reaction. I thought they’d
be mad, maybe even disappointed in me. So, I kept it to myself, pretending everything
was fine. But carrying that secret made everything harder. I felt like I was failing not just
in school, but as a person too. This time, though, I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I was
exhausted—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. I’d been staying up late every
night, trying to keep up with my classes, assignments, and exams. But no matter how
hard I worked, it felt like it wasn’t enough. When I finally told my parents about failing
again, I expected the worst. I thought they’d yell, or tell me I wasn’t trying hard enough,
or maybe even compare me to other students who seemed to be doing just fine. But
their reaction was nothing like what I imagined. Instead of getting angry, they were calm
and understanding. They told me it was okay to fail and that they knew I’d been doing
my best. They even said they’d noticed how much effort I was putting in—how they’d
seen me studying late at night, surrounded by books and papers, and how they could
tell I was really trying. Hearing that made me cry. It wasn’t just relief; it was also guilt for
not trusting them sooner. They asked me why I hadn’t told them about my struggles
earlier, and I admitted I was scared they’d be disappointed in me. I thought they’d see
me as a failure, someone who couldn’t handle the pressure of college. But their
response showed me how wrong I was. They didn’t see me as a failure. They saw me
as their child, someone who was trying their best in a tough situation. Their empathy
and understanding made me feel like I wasn’t alone anymore. It was like a huge weight
had been lifted off my shoulders. For the first time in a long time, I felt like it was okay to
not be perfect.
Their non-judgmental attitude also made me realize how much I’d been judging
myself. I’d been so hard on myself, thinking I had to be perfect, that I couldn’t make
mistakes, and that failing meant I wasn’t good enough. But my parents’ acceptance
showed me that failure isn’t the end of the world. It’s just a part of life, and it doesn’t
define who I am. What matters is how I pick myself up and keep going. This experience
taught me a lot about trust and vulnerability. I learned that it’s okay to ask for help and
that I don’t have to face everything on my own. My parents’ support reminded me that
I’m loved not for my grades or achievements, but for who I am. It also made me think
about how I treat myself. I realized I need to be kinder to myself, to accept that I’m
human and that it’s okay to struggle sometimes.
Looking back, I’m grateful for that moment of honesty with my parents. It wasn’t
easy to admit my failures, but it brought us closer and helped me see things in a new
way. It also made me think about how I can show the same kindness and understanding
to others. If someone I care about is going through a tough time, I want to be there for
them the way my parents were there for me—without judgment, without anger, just with
love and support. This experience didn’t just change how I see failure; it changed how I
see myself. I’m still working on being less hard on myself, but I’m learning to accept that
I’m doing the best I can. And sometimes, that’s enough.
