Ask yourself this question: Independently of your work quality, how confident are you in your assignments when you turn them in? When I was a kid, my answer was none. I had no self-confidence after years of getting bullied. I was physically and mentally weak in a class of less than a dozen people, all of whom were considerably more athletic. It was imposter syndrome of the highest order, and admittedly, my work wasn’t all that great to begin with.
No event was more demonstrative of my weakness than orienteering. I understand other schools have done something similar, but ours worked like: every team gets a punch card, a compass, and a map with every punch station marked on it. Fill out the card and return to the start as fast as possible to win! Every year that I participated in this mandatory humiliation session, I took last place because of how slow I was, always holding my team back with my weakness.
One year, though, everything changed. I had a rare opportunity to choose a team rather than be forced into one after getting rejected. I chose the two fastest kids in the class in the hopes that it would give me a small chance of doing better. They let me join on one condition: keep up.
On the day, the weather started out humid and gray. I can still remember the pavilion’s damp wood against my hand and the awful picnic tables we sat as we were briefed on what to do. We got our things, and like clockwork, the race was on. Almost from the start, my legs burned like fire as I desperately ran to keep up with my teammates who were more than ready to leave me behind for a win. We went from station to station, barely bothering to stop even though I desperately needed it. The day kept getting hotter and more dry, and soon the skies had cleared for the sun to come out and beat my ass in full force. I was extremely thankful to have brought sunscreen.
Soon, we’d hit every station, and were sprinting at full speed to get back to the start. My whole body ached; I was soaked in sweat; and I was beginning to feel a bit dizzy. I trailed behind as my two teammates crossed the finish line. I staggered, and just before the finish, vomited my guts out. We won first place that day.
No amount of self-doubt could deny me this victory, not like before. I had the sick and the burning in my throat to prove to myself that I could do things and do it well when I gave it my all. So I did. After that day, I studied harder, wrote more, and thought deeper. I had learned to appreciate the value of pushing myself to the limit for better work, a value I hold to this day. Would I recommend vomiting as an easy cure to low self-esteem? No.
