on being competitive
I am inherently competitive.
When I was in elementary school, our teachers used to make us play games like math quizzes, “name the capital city”, or even hide-and-seek. For other kids, playing games was the best part of their day. But not for me. I was mortified of losing.
My competitiveness didn’t stop there: I had more important games to play. My years in elementary school and junior high were spent competing with my best friend for the top spot in the class. Eventually, winning that game wasn’t enough, so I set a pretty impossible goal for a random kid in Indonesia: getting into Columbia University early decision. That way, I was competing with the best of the best from all over the world.
Dead set on getting into Columbia, I pushed myself like never before. I didn’t accept anything less than an A on my transcript or exam scores. I spent my free time memorising arcane English vocabulary to ace the SAT. But as you may know, grades weren’t enough to get into Columbia. I needed experience, so I tried out a variety of extracurriculars: science club, cooking club, and writing for the school newspaper, to name a few.
But experience in itself wasn’t enough: I needed leadership positions. As a shy introvert, I never would have thought of gunning for positions that involve talking to people. But I did it anyway. I got into student government, found out I didn’t like it, so I stepped up as a teaching assistant in my choir.
As if that’s not too much already, Columbia also asked their applicants about the artwork they consumed, so I made sure to have a well-rounded palate of books, concerts, and movies when I needed a break from becoming an overachiever.
**
“You are enough,” my high school English teacher told me during a 1:1.
She wasn’t the only one. Other teachers also sat me down for a 1:1 because my work ethic was too scary.
Due to a lack of mental health awareness, I didn’t know it at the time, but I had developed OCD and an eating disorder in my pursuit of perfectionism. To make things worse, I didn’t get into Columbia. I was shattered.
“Are you doing this overachievement thing for validation?” my voice teacher asked me.
After a heated debate, he ended the conversation with this:
“Don’t look for validation. Just do what you love.”
**
Now, here’s the funny thing:
How would I know what I love, if I didn’t try a million different extracurriculars?
How would I know what I am capable of, if I didn’t push myself out of my comfort zone?
I discovered my passion for teaching and building teams by joining a children’s choir. I discovered my love for theatre by auditioning for a role in my school’s musical. I began writing lyrics and composing music since I participated in my school’s songwriting contest. My time writing for the school newspaper taught me about artistic integrity: writing honestly from the heart without giving a care about what the readers think. And I never would have discovered those passions if I didn’t have a competitive mindset.
By competing, I unleashed parts of me that were nonexistent. I became more than just a competitor in this game that I set for myself. Snatching every possible opportunity I could hold has made me bold, creative, and outspoken. By performing in choir and my school’s musical, I conquered a debilitating case of stage fright. By teaching kids how to sing in my children’s choir, I became a team-player. Sure, there were things that didn’t work out, like student government. But all of those experiences were instrumental to my growth as an individual. Suddenly, I discovered the whole point of competing, and it’s not about winning.
It’s about self-discovery and self-improvement.
**
My voice teacher is right, though. Once I find what it is that I love, I stop entering a competitive mindset. I finally discovered what it means to operate on pure passion, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. When I compose music, all I care about is how well I convey my story to my audience. When I write this blog post, I don’t care if someone else writes a better blog post about the same topic. I just write because I love writing. I love telling a good story.
But life doesn’t work that way. We have bills to pay. Writing stories or making music isn’t a viable source of income. I want to find meaning in areas outside of literature and the arts.
So, how do I motivate myself to find meaning? The same way I have pushed myself out of my comfort zone and discovered new capabilities: by playing the comparison game.
My years spent competing for the top spot in class and trying to get into an Ivy League school have taught me that a little bit of competition gives me incentive to keep improving myself in whatever it is that I am doing. The goal is not to one-up my opponents, or to bring them down. Simply by trying to get to their level and learning what it is they are good at, I will have improved myself.
It stands true that there’s always going to be someone better than me, and that’s the best part of the game: it never ends until I quit.
But this time, I’ve written my own rules:
This is not a competition of self worth. Everyone is worthy. Everyone has something unique to offer to the people around them.
Achieving less than another person does not mean that I am less worthy.
Everyone has their own physical and emotional limits. Take breaks.
Life is not a zero-sum game. When someone else succeeds, I can succeed as well.
I’d like to circle back on my teacher’s words: “Don’t look for validation. Just do what you love.”
Today, I’m doing what I love: playing an imaginary game with a tough opponent, in the name of self-discovery and self-improvement.
Maybe next time, it’s me against myself.