I love competition. I love everything about it. It doesn’t matter what kind: sports, music, grades, silly games…you name it, I’ll get really into it. I don’t really understand why I love it so much. Being competitive is often seen as prideful because it’s a battle to see who is better. But for me, it’s not about beating other people, but rather myself. I don’t care so much about being better than everyone else, but more about being better than my previous self. For me, there’s no such thing as a half-hearted effort or a lazy game. I always have to give it my all to prove to myself that I’m still progressing, that I’m still improving.
This competitive drive to never give up and always do my best is why I’m still here today. I’m a stubborn kid; when someone tells me I’m not good enough or that I can’t do something, I put every ounce of energy I have into proving that person wrong because no one puts limits on my abilities except me. I did it with music when I was told a certain piece was too hard for me. I did it with sports when I when I was told I was too short to be able to reach a certain standard. And I did it with my mission when I was struggling and Satan was telling me to give up and go home early.
I continue to do it every day, every time life gets hard and I feel down, discouraged, anxious and have the urge to give up and quit. But this time it’s different. This time I can’t see the finish line. It’s a tug of war, but as soon as I think I’ve reached the end, I get yanked back to the starting line. It’s an endless cycle of pulling and being pulled back. The more I pull, the more tired I get, but the opposing team never seems to tire. The taunts to give up are relentless and my grip begins to weaken and my feet start to slip and slide. The temptation to let go grows ever more enticing. There have been so many times when the only things that kept me from letting go were my Savior, Jesus Christ, and my competitive nature that was too stubborn to let Satan win. He wants me to lose. He wants me to let go, to think that I’m not strong enough or worth enough to keep on trying. Well, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s not going down without a fight. The only one that can tell me that I’m not good enough or that I’m incapable of doing something is me. So, sorry Satan. You’re not going to with this tug of war.