The Illusion of Victory

Victory is often symbolized by a gold medal, a shining token awarded to the best of the best, crafted to commemorate the highest achievement in a given field. This medal hangs from a bright blue lanyard around the victor’s neck, worn with pride and sometimes a touch of ignorance. Yet, a gold medal does not always represent true victory, especially not for oneself. The journey to earn such a medal involves more than just skill; it encompasses the struggle against self-doubt and the realization that medals are earned, not given.

This essay explores the complexities of achieving personal victory, delving into the challenges of self-worth and the journey toward self-realization.

The Journey to Districts

In 2018, the District Championships of the Mid America Region for the American Taekwondo Association (ATA) marked my third consecutive year competing at this prestigious event. Like any other tournament day, I woke up early, spending an hour meticulously ensuring my appearance was immaculate. My uniform and belt were crisp, and my father and I tested the speaker to ensure the music was ready. The hotel, bustling with competitors, revealed familiar faces, including friends from the ring. The other girls mirrored my preparations: their hair tied up, makeup applied, all sweat-proof. Despite my readiness, an overwhelming urge to back out loomed over me.

This tournament represented the third year in a row where I aspired for gold but did not bring it home. Over time, I had grown accustomed to securing second or third place, but my confidence remained in the negatives. The idea of achieving first place seemed unattainable, as negative thoughts dictated my actions, perpetuating a cycle of failure. The word "can't" became a barrier between me and a gold medal. While my peers meticulously crafted their routines months in advance, I had only developed my form a month prior. As I stood among the competitors, I couldn't help but perceive myself as the underdog, the "fat white girl" who couldn't discern a front kick from a side kick. I jest, of course, but these thoughts were deeply ingrained. The other girls, more agile and fit, executed flips effortlessly, while self-doubt weighed me down.

The Performance and Its Aftermath

The event unfolded in a blur. The judges, nameless in the sea of spectators, were indistinguishable. Conversations echoed like whispers in a dim cave. The familiar bow-in occurred at 8:30, but I found myself outside, consumed by numbness and tears of fear. Failing yet again seemed inevitable, and I dreaded disappointing my school and waiting another year for a title I believed I could never earn. Despite holding three state titles and accumulating over 50 trophies and medals from the sport, I felt like I was falling apart at that moment. My instructor found me in this vulnerable state, offering comfort, but it only intensified my feelings of inadequacy. The presence of someone who believed in me amplified my sense of failure. A kind woman offered me essential oil to calm my nerves, and surprisingly, it worked.

As I stepped into the ring to perform, I forgot a few techniques. The fear in my eyes was evident to the judges, who responded with pitiful expressions. When my score was announced—"7.9, 7.9, and 7.9"—I was taken aback. Despite earning third place, it felt akin to receiving a 'D' in a class. I had passed, but just barely. The second form mirrored the first, with a different ending, and I stood ready for my name to be called. However, as I prepared to start the music, technical difficulties arose. My phone lost connection to the speaker, leaving me to perform in silence. Competing without music, my shaky, nervous breath was the only sound the judges could hear. Once again, I placed third, with a 7.9 score all around. The ring concluded, and I was crushed. For the third consecutive year, I had lost. Facing my mother, who often expressed disappointment, was unbearable. Yet, to my relief, she remained silent that day.

Reflections on Self-Worth

Reflecting on the events of that day, I realized that my negative self-perception was the root cause of my failures. I consistently underestimated myself, focusing solely on my mistakes and shortcomings. The inability to see the good in myself hindered my growth and success. They say a leader is strong, but how can one be strong when self-doubt prevents them from rising above challenges? This experience taught me that true victory is not measured by medals or accolades but by overcoming personal barriers and embracing self-worth.

The journey to self-realization is ongoing, and while a gold medal may symbolize victory to the world, the real triumph lies in conquering one's inner demons. By acknowledging and addressing self-doubt, one can pave the way for personal growth and fulfillment. The path to true victory involves recognizing that self-worth is not defined by external achievements but by the courage to face and overcome internal struggles. In doing so, individuals can transform their perceived failures into stepping stones toward genuine success and fulfillment.

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