Failing the PMP (and Learning to Stay Kind to myself Anyway)

I recently took the PMP exam. I also recently failed the PMP exam.

Let’s back up.

I studied. Like, really studied.

Flashcards, practice tests, video lectures. I started seeing the words “stakeholder engagement” in my dreams. I even learned enough Agile and Lean to (mostly) hold my own despite working primarily in hybrid and waterfall environments.

I also requested accommodations for my neurodivergence — and gratefully received 50% additional time and 30-minute stop-the-clock breaks. PMI indicated I’d have a private room. That felt safe. That felt doable.

Except, spoiler alert: I did not get that private room.

Instead, I found myself in a large, silent testing room with about 20 other test takers. There was one person gleefully uncapping and recapping their pen like they were conducting an orchestra. Another snorted his snot back up into what I can only assume was a cavernous void behind his eyeballs. A third gently rocked in a squeaky chair, composing what sounded like a horror movie score in creaks.

My brain? Spun out. Letters started swirling around the screen. Words dissolved into soup. I started to wonder if everyone else was experiencing this or if it was just my neurodivergent mind turning a standardized test into a full-sensory haunted house.

I left that room nearly certain I had failed. And guess what? I was right.

Nothing I studied seemed to match the actual questions. The practice tests hadn’t prepared me for the weirdly phrased real ones, or the dreaded “pick two” or “pick three” options (insert gigantic eye roll here).

For a while, I spiraled. I thought, Maybe I’ll never pass this test. Maybe I’m just not cut out for it. Maybe I’m not enough.

But then — after the meltdown, after the self-doubt, after the big feelings — I decided I wasn’t going to let this define me.

I’ve already paid and scheduled my next attempt in three months. I’ve invested in additional training materials. I’ve also decided to advocate for myself even more clearly around accommodations next time. Because I’ve realized the environment matters just as much as the content.

And here’s the biggest lesson: My self-worth is not determined by whether or not I get to add three fancy letters to the end of my name.

Would it be satisfying? Absolutely.

Will I keep trying? You bet.

Does it define my value? Not even a little.

To anyone else out there navigating exams, professional milestones, or any situation where the system wasn’t designed with your brain in mind: Be kind to yourself. Advocate fiercely. And remember — no title or credential can measure your worth.

We’ll see how it goes next time. For now, I’m practicing patience, resilience, and the occasional dramatic eye roll.