I was raised in what I believed to be a very demanding household.

My father is a lawyer,

and my mother is a businesswoman. They both graduated from my country's highest-ranked

college at that too. Meanwhile, my older brother was a basketball varsity star, and my older

sister was the president of her student council AND a social media influencer. Did I mention

they were both top students too?

During family dinners, everyone had something exciting and important to share. My dad

detailed what happened in his court hearings; my mom expressed various business ideas, my

brother bragged about his flashy moves and winning shots, and my sister often talked about the

responsibilities she had in the student council. I sat in my chair amazed by my family. But at the

same time, I felt I was undeserving of the seat I was sitting on. I needed to be or do something

relevant to belong. As I grew up, the standard was to be at least one of them; to succeed was to

be all.  

Over the years I had attempted and achieved a number of competitions to build my case

as a competent member of my family. One of the many victories I can recall, which I added to

my "resume of awards and achievements," happened on July 19, 2014. 

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I stood on the starting platform, looked at my competitors to my left and right, and

thought, "What the hell was I thinking? How did I end up here?" Before I could answer myself,

the swimming competition went underway as the starting gun let out a loud bang. 

Only now can I answer that unanswered question from all these years as I write about

my experience. In the summer of 2014, my mother enrolled me in swimming lessons. Every

other day, I would practice a sport I hated for many reasons, mainly because of the cold water.

But after numerous sessions, my coach encouraged me to join a tournament to which I said no
initially. Obviously, I changed my mind when my father said, "It's okay if he doesn't join; maybe

he isn't cut out for it." 

Bang. I dove and started to swim. I did not think about how fast I needed to go to win or

how tired I was, not even the cold water running through my body. I simply swam as best as I

could. As I touched the finish line, my first thought was to leave. And so, I did but was

interrupted by my coach as she informed me that I had won the competition.

I was shocked. At that point, I did not expect to be a competent swimmer. But my first

thought to myself was, "I will not complain. A medal is a medal." I can vividly remember one of

the finalists crying as I walked to the podium. And, they definitely were not tears of joy.

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As my mom took a picture of me with the finalists, I let out a detached smile. And I could

not help but wonder why that child was crying. "If I were in his position, would I have cried as

much as he?”, “Why don’t I feel that getting 1st was a big deal?”, and “Am I really where I

wanted to be?” were the thoughts that ran through my head. 

I had forgotten entirely that memory existed. It was only through a similar setting but with

a different outcome a couple of years later that I remembered. The year was 2019. Overall, my

football team's season was disappointing. According to our coach, it was one of the worst years

he had been through in the more than 20 years he coached for my school. The team was

plagued with injuries, there was drama between players, and there were times we could not

even make it to the playoffs. But through some divine intervention, the stars aligned, and our
team managed to fight our way to the championship game in the last tournament of the football

season. 

           I was a ninth-grader at that time. But my teammates were all tenth-graders. This would

have been the last game we played in the same team with the same faces from all these years.

There was a strong desire in me to win for my sake but an even stronger one to win for my

team. 

The game was very close and heated. That was until one of my teammates scored an

own goal, giving a point to the other team. We tried many different strategies but to no avail.

Finally, we heard the dreaded final whistle, which signaled the end of the game. The match

ended 1-0. 

I had expected the team to be totally depressed with the result. But to my surprise, we

were in quite a party mood. As we walked to the awarding ceremony,  Our captain even said,

“We broke the finals curse!” I was unsure whether he said that to lighten the mood or he really

did mean it. Surprisingly, I too was happy with how far we’ve came. But it had me thinking, “why

As I ate with my family later that day, I did not sit with the thought of having failed and

disappointed my family. I found a newly-discovered. I felt what it was to lose and succeed.