The obstruction to victory can simply be the developed fear of disappointment placed before endless opportunities.
Everyone around you teach what they know. If they understand victories, you will have a lot of lessons on steps to the same outcome. If, on the other hand, those around know disappointments too well, they may not even have to say a word. What you will learn about disappointments is what you will feel and see all around you. Even after sunset, in the stillness of the night, uneasiness, idleness can be eerily felt and heard. Disappointments wake and sleep with its possessor.
The belief of the mind becomes the reality of its destiny.
Competition is won by the few. Those few are not to include you. Trying would only lead to disappointments. It was this very fed mindset that had made me miss many opportunities to just journey and experience the what-ifs as a child.
While the body succors to defeat, the heart, mind, and spirit suffer the hurtful shame and major bruises. Progressively, the growing fear becomes knowing too well the reason for fear itself.
Fearing disappointment was a learned behavior. I know this because looking as far back as I can remember, I ached to see those I loved become disappointed of their own actions. To add on to the already existing disappointments was not a wanted feeling. You see, being the youngest of five with one after me having been gone too soon-just after three days, I witnessed one disappointment after another, again and again. Thus, as the youngest living, I subliminally thought to be the last hope.
Intrinsically, I was competitive, wanting not just myself to have victories, but also those around me. As a child, I wanted to be part of the winning team. And yet, somehow, I could tell those around me didn’t feel so much like winners. I resisted to believe this was my reality. However, how much farther could a child see beyond all that they only knew?
As a prisoner of learned fear, I didn’t partake or even suggest to want to be a part of something simply because of the instilled memory of how it felt the last time a thought to not face disappointment, and once again, the result was the very feared.
Being the youngest of five made it very easy for me to “learn” how we were and our limitations compared to those around us. Asking to go out for fast food was not even something to dare risk for the heart fearing a disappointing response. Mental brokenness accepted the unspoken understanding that only the rich played instruments or sports. Just like learning a spoken language or accepted behavior, you knew not to even ask for such chance or opportunity.
There is powerlessness as a child when it comes to control. Accepting defeat became one thing I wasn’t good at and yet, to partake in anything and everything, I learned not to ask. Less risk, less damage. Thankfully, as I grew older, my surroundings expanded, drawing me to see more. Less risk, less gained.
Time and space among other mindsets than those I had grown up with began to turn my perspective around. All of a sudden, I was given opportunity to overcome fear and just… try. The learned assumption as a child that I would be not only a disappointment to myself, but those around me if I were to take a chance at anything, was the discouraging factor if ever to eventually just try something out. I feared the consequence of disappointment, letting down those around me who I felt so needed a victory. And yet, like going back into a nightmare to change the outcome, I knew I could work through my fear of disappointment, one try at a time.
For the poor and nearly destitute, tries were limited. Anything that cost time or money, being the youngest of five, to add, left only free school functions and events, with or without the presence of family support. Autonomy to break from fear of disappointment was a process.
My earliest recollection of learning I could not be a victim of my surroundings was my Papa asking my Mama when was the last time she had changed my shirt. I must have been around 3 or 4 with this memory. In the years of life to follow, I accepted that Mama wasn’t well. She had lost my younger sister several years back and I never took into memory Mama holding me. My heart somehow always understood and found no bitterness or blame.
We had been denied of entry to the United States for our first attempt. This must have not added light to Mama’s already growing darkness. To uplift the family and move on, Papa brought us back to his familial province to start anew. Mama began to illuminate with light once again, embracing every day to my memory’s recollection with her orchids and flowers all around. It was only over a year after, however, before I quickly discovered that we would be leaving again, making another attempt to enter the United States.
You would think there would be so much to feel grateful about once finally arrived. Not for a child who found herself making best to acclimate to her new surroundings, freezing February cold temperatures, living in my grandmother’s rat-infested, dilapidated home with hardly or any food to eat, deemed by all cousins who made sure to remind you that as the newcomer with a strong foreign accent, you were the underdog.
While there has been hierarchy between races, beneath that stands another hierarchical placement, socioeconomics. Perhaps unspoken or not to admit, within our own race, those like my family, nearly destitute and hardly English-speaking, family or neighboring people make a point to place you below them, too.
Being an immigrant minority with no level of financial respect to contend with others, I felt I was accepting defeat with my Papa as I watched him being looked down upon by others. Accepting this for my Papa as a child was beyond my control. However, there are no words to explain the heart, mind, and spirit of a child who must watch her father surrender.
The state of mind had to change. The chains passed onto me had to be loosened and broken free from.
It was in sixth grade, after having already attended six different schools, where I made a mental turnaround. I was entitled a champion for the very first time. Out of pure gusto and chance, I managed to represent my school into the Spelling Bee Regionals. Starting from my classroom, all began quite accidentally, just one word after another.
With a home we rented right across from my sixth grade school, my parents attended my school competition. By the time I got to the Regional competition, however, my parents were missing in the audience. It was my teacher who ended up taking me.
As my husband reminds me of myself, I tend to blur out or forget the dark parts and so, I vaguely recall my parents talking to my teacher (Or, was it the other way around?) where I remember my teacher telling both Papa and Mama I had to attend. My teacher’s strong convictions elected him the job to drive and take me up north.
It was my teacher who checked in with me between breaks. It was he whom I watched walking back and forth (with the schedule rolled up in his hands) outside in the hallway as I took my turn spelling words. Even our school principal managed to stop by and check in on me.
I remember how my teacher told my parents he couldn’t take me any longer after that day of competition. I can’t recall (honestly) if I had made it to the next level, but apparently I had. So what. I got a brand new Webster’s Dictionary. It was my pride and joy. Until that day, I never had a new book. And, for the first time in my life, the Spelling Bee introduced me to how it felt to be looked at with honor. That champion feeling, planted in my heart, mind, and spirit. My body quietly enjoyed the dignity.
I realize now, that honorable feeling that day was the planting of possibilities to try more in the near future. Win or lose, the joy of a “try” of possibilities had been sowed.
I discovered something from within no one could take away. Resilience. I found ways to trick my mind to believe that if I had yet to have it or gain it, it’s because I wasn’t planned to at the moment. Victorious from within, I would face victory or defeat one after another in this world.
One can choose to feel victorious even when a victory is not given. I taught myself this, thankful for any opportunity received to just take a chance. To this day, I do not like to lose. However, as Pink recites in her infamous lyrics to “Don’t Let Me Get Me”, I’m my own worst enemy. Luckily, challenging my own fears in able to break free have proven help to me.
The epiphany became simple. I either allowed the world to define me or withhold the power to define me for the world. The latter freed me from the mental, spiritual, and emotional enslavement I had so become accustomed to seeing around me.
“In the presence or absence of an audience, the greatest applause comes from within.” This is my lasting reminder I still post outside my classroom window for all my current and former students to read.
Familiar chains to the ear jingle daily to remind me how easy they are to put back on. Daily, I break free.
Still, in high school, where to play an instrument, attend an art class, or participate in a sport could have been a possibility, I fought the inner voices. Working one or two jobs after school, instead, was the choice. Fear of disappointment adhering to surrender. When competitions or events were partaken, no matter the level of leadership, somehow, that haunting, ghost of disappointment, well-trained of the perfect cue, would find itself in the audience.
All those “could have been” piled up in memory, excusing yourself from every one of them, giving yourself the understanding that they were meant for “other” people, not you, become reminders of why you push forward, win or lose, victory or no victory. Each try, a push against the voices of fear. One day, one child, one generation at a time.
One of our sons has taken an interest in boxing (Boy! If Papa was still here!) and at his request, I have found some memorable quality time with him to watch past fights of the greatest fighters of all time. Having watched Mike Tyson’s greatest highlights, we came across his last fight’s closing interview. It was the time where, within his eyes and words, we watched Mike Tyson accept defeat inside the ring.
I still recall that very same day watching that exact fight to that very same interview. I had no feel of disappointment in Mike Tyson’s effort to gain victory that night. I just recall my heart feeling his heart as he spoke the words after his fight, however, despondent upon hearing him express his thoughts of how he felt he was letting everybody down.
I remember how I didn’t want him to apologize. I remember how I didn’t want to see him sad that he lost. I remember wanting him to speak like the champion who he always had been.
I didn’t want to hear the voice of defeat. I heard that familiar sound too many times and the eyes of shame that went along with it. I didn’t want to hear it or see it in Mike Tyson.
I recall a scene in my favorite movie, “The Man with the Iron Mask”. It was when Athos was adamantly reminding the good-hearted, soon-to-be king, that he should never apologize. This was not wrong to me. I felt and understood the urgency of Athos’ reprimand. Athos was desperately emphasizing the importance of leadership before the eyes of all people. There must be certainty in every move, wrong or right- the act is what it simply is for a leader. Mistakes will be made. And yet, we should speak of it none, accepting quietly and forgivingly in our hearts that even greats err.
To covet is to think in one’s place, we could do better.
The symbolism of victory is in the actions and behavior of our leader. The standing, unbroken strength is being able to hold your head up high irregardless of what may be.
I know now that you can never truly let down those around you who have always believed in you. When they know and understand your journey, the route you have traveled, even in a loss, you are still their victory- no matter the outcome.
When I told our oldest that I loved him no matter what before one of his major wrestling competitions, I saw in his eyes perhaps the thought that I had somehow predicted he would not have victory that day. It hurt me deeply inside for I could not find a way to take back my words to where he could understand my heart. How can you try and explain to a child you immensely love with all your heart that me speaking the words, “I love you no matter what” was purely literal?
I only see victories before all my children. The outcome would be for my son to know and handle how to still shine- before, during, and after, regardless of whatever decision would be made. What’s to understand and learn is that win or lose, there will be the dissatisfied of your powerful existence either way.
Your light is one’s darkness. Only a moment of your defeat is one opposition’s hope for your cowering fall.
I understood and understand opposition. I would simply love my son no matter what. He was, still, and will always be my incredible champion for I have stood by and watched his journey. Victory or no victory, I thank God for his plans either way.
The strength to be found in a fall is the strength gained to stand back up and to keep moving forward.
I realize the fear within us, thinking to be a disappointment if we lose, becomes a projection of mere presumptions of how others around are thinking and feeling.
Mike Tyson’s words to all who listened was received with both a thinking and feeling sensation for all who understand sacrifice. When you have fought through voices of “you can’t” “you won’t” “you are nothing” “you’ll lose” and all other voices trying to take you down and still, you persevere, there is to be nothing disappointedly said about your works of effort.
There is no dishonor in any champion or leader having lost. The distance traveled and sacrifices made are still farther and greater than anyone else who just watches.
Seeing so much hopelessness around me growing up was crippling for a young soul who just wanted to see a win push through. As a child, that seed of hopelessness grows in you, watered by one disappointment after another, powered by unwanted darkness.
We can choose to shut out from possibilities. However, are we ready to accept or absorb the afterthoughts of what could have been? Crying, hurting, blaming, excusing, demanding, denying, rejecting, and even projecting discontentment are the child’s reactions to lessons in life. When do we choose to let go of childish things and finally accept the great responsibility we each have been given to just give everything in life a chance? Fear of disappointment is false evidence appearing real, after all.
Did a loss define Mike Tyson? My son? Me? You?
How many more tries are in your life if you were told, win or lose, you could never disappoint?
