Day 105 - On The Way Down

So, most of you already know that I failed my multi-engine instrument checkride yesterday. I won’t reinvent the wheel there. I was emotionally destroyed yesterday (not much better today) and didn’t feel like writing about it, so I didn’t. I came back to the trailer and threw myself a "pity party," to quote Hailey. Then I got in the sim to practice what I failed. Then came another pity party. It was a good plan, I think. But the question remains, now what?
I am scared to death, folks. I cannot put into words the visceral, crippling fear that has been constant within me since yesterday, but I threw up three times yesterday if that gives you any illustration (Gotta love total honesty and transparency. Gross details. And remember, you heard it here first). I was unsatisfactory on two things during the ride, and those are the two items that I’ll have to repeat. The first was an SDF approach (Mr. Page, that's for you), and the second was a DME arc. A DME arc is really simple, but I was so rattled and upset from busting the ride that I lost my head and turned the wrong way. It was an extremely stupid mistake and 100% my fault. The examiner tried to get me rattled, and I let him. I get one more shot at it, and if I fail that, they kick me out of school. I’m not dealing well at all with that prospect, and am honestly mortified. This is the first checkride that I’ve busted in my burgeoning flying career, and I feel about three inches tall. I’m very angry that I was not taught the approach that I failed, but the overwhelming emotion is quite simple: fear. Fear of failure. Fear of disappointing all of you. Fear of the shame that I will feel if I don’t make it. Fear of being nothing. Fear of having nothing. This is really all I’ve got, and if I fail again it gets taken away from me. Every egg I've got is sitting in a basket with the word "pilot" written on the side of it. My college education, this huge investment that my family and I have made in my training, my hopes and dreams; they all revolve around aviation. I just don’t understand why every time I start to make a little progress I get shoved backwards again. I don’t know what the answer is, or what to do, or think. I just know that I’m scared. I’m waiting to hear what happens to me now, and all I can do is my best if I get to retest. Truly, that’s all I can do. But I’m deeply concerned that it’s not enough.
I spent most of the day today with the boss. He is always a comforting presence to me and tried his best to reassure me, but not even he could assuage the anxiety I’m feeling. I feel just totally hopeless, like it’s already over. Being around him did help, though. I would do anything for the guy and think the world of him, but it is sorta embarassing to ride in a car with an MD-11 Captain when you can't even pass a checkride. I did at least smile and laugh a little bit, though. The boss says it’s going to be ok, but I’m not so sure. I hope he’s right. My emotions run the gamut and undergo complete polar shifts. When I talk to the boss, it sounds so simple: like something I can do. But when I relive what happened and really process what I’m going to have to do to pass, I descend back into total despair. I’m really trying to overcome it, but failure is not easy for anyone; especially when everything is riding on the line this time. That’s what really, really scares me. If I bust, it’s over for me. Over.
I’m still waiting to hear my fate, at least in the interim. All I can do now is sit and stew on what happened, and listen to the stress-induced ulcers develop in my stomach. I’ve started naming them as they develop. As best I can figure, I have three. So far I’m calling them Groucho, Harpo, and Chico. I’ll keep you informed, and please lemme know if you and ulcer-nomenclature suggestions. Please hang in there with me guys. I’m trying.


I promise, I’m trying.

Joey