Hope in Failure

A couple weeks ago, I completed the first qualifying tournament of the season. Unable to break my tradition, I didn't do extraordinarily well. Better than I did last year, which made me happy, but it wasn't National qualifying skill.

Did I walk away happy?

You bet.

Wednesday afternoon, we left the house around 2:00. On the drive there, I was actually rather surprised to hear my brother that he was nervous...and, when my mom turned to me, I...wasn't. I was honestly worried about how calm I felt.

When we arrived at the destination, I still felt calm. Excited, naturally. Ecstatic, more like it. I clambered onto campus with the hugest grin on my face, simply happy to be back at the lovely place. And, of course, hundreds of nerds in suits- some who I recognize, some who I don't know at all- is always a simply beautiful sight. I'm not sure how to explain to you how happy I get when I see something like that. But if you're not a speaker or debater, you really just don't get certain things.

I stood in lines, I got my name badge, I repeated what events I was doing at least ten times. I said "hi" to friends, I gave plenty of hugs, I smiled... And I still wasn't nervous.

By now, I realized that something was obviously wrong since me not being nervous is beyond unusual. It felt great, sure, but it made me curious as to what the heck my brain was doing.

Postings went up, and I still remained calm. I figured out what team we were going against- one I knew, which was fun- and my partner and I headed to the room. Even after I had taken out my flowpad, my pens, my stickies, all my evidence, AND my handy-dandy effects T-press... I still felt fine.

I didn't give the best speeches ever. I could tell we had lost, just by reading the judge. But I still walked out calm.

Well, I went through that seven more times over the course of the next couple days, so I won't bother to relay it all back to you. But as I drove home on Saturday night, I realized exactly what had happened: I had been so focused on having fun, and simply glorifying God with whatever I said, and had been praying so much, that I hadn't put any pressure on myself. And without putting pressure on myself, I wasn't scared that I couldn't fulfill what I wanted myself to do.

For once, I exceeded my own expectations. I won half of my debate rounds, placed first in one of my speech events [Only against other novices, but hey, it was better than nothing for me], and got reasonably good rankings in my other two speeches. But I didn't do amazing. I didn't qualify for the Tournament of Champions. I can guarantee you that people still aren't scared if they see they're debating me, or are in the same room as me for a speech.

But I'm happy. I had fun. I got to relax. I got to have a calm stomach. I got to smile the entire ride home instead of trying to hide my tears.

This may not be true for you, but I've realized that the only thing that ever really makes me feel like a failure is failing myself. Because I care about my own ranking 5,000 times more than my mom, dad, brother, or club members do. And for once, I gave myself a break. I let myself have fun. I didn't hold myself to any crazy high expectations. I was able to be more calm, hopefully less irritating, I actually got to eat at the tournament since my stomach was settle enough to handle it... And I was happy.

The point is-- sure, you can set expectations for yourself. You can strive to achieve certain things. But don't pressure yourself so hard that it depresses you when you don't get exactly what you were aiming for.

The Concordia Challenge, 2010 was my favorite tournament ever. Not because I walked away with more first place rankings than normal, not because I have a medal hanging above my desk, and definitely not because I actually got to hear my name called out- and not for a timer award. (They pronounced my name wrong, anyway.) It was because I could be happy and calm the entire time. Because I didn't pressure myself.

I can have hope in failure now because I know that my ranking doesn't determine my worth. And I will tell you over and over again that I would much rather walk away from a tournament happy and calm- not having been the slightest bit nervous- than with five trophies and a very unsettled stomach.

So get out there and fail the very best you can! And be happy about it. Because anyone- including you- who bases your reputation and worth on your amount of awards is ridiculous.

Just a thought.