It’s Not That Deep

When I was in grade school, I spent a large portion of my time at the gymnastics gym. I was a competitive power tumbler (it’s like gymnastics, but different), and the name of the game was perfection.

Practices ranged from 2-4 hours per day. On top of physical training, there was also mental training. Once you have the technique and muscle for it, flipping your body in midair is completely reliant on trusting yourself. During practices, time was set aside for journaling and visualization to ensure we had “strong minds” to curb the fear of messing up. The practice didn’t include convincing ourselves that if we mess up, it’s ok; We convinced ourselves that we won’t mess up — To avoid injury and, of course, to win.

Typically, this method was successful. Our team consistently won local, state, and national competitions. I still have a closet full of medals and trophies from that era of my life.

I don’t remember what happened, but there was a competition where those visualizations did not come to pass- Maybe I stumbled when I landed, misstepped on my setup, or just wasn’t as good as the other kids at this particular meet. But I do remember the outcome: I was not standing on the podium and would not receive a medal. As soon as they called my name for 6th place and handed me a limp pity ribbon, I started crying. I didn’t want to be crying in front of everyone, but I couldn’t help it. My coach looked at me and said, “Stop crying.” Our coaches hated when we cried. I was so disappointed in myself.

These competitions were the biggest deal in the world to me at the time, largely because they were the biggest deal in my world. While I have my power tumbling days to thank for many things, it’s also to blame for a few of my less desirable qualities. The perfectionist mindset, for example, carried over when I switched from power tumbling to competitive cheerleading.

At one of my many cheer competitions, right before my team stepped out to perform the routine we’d been drilling for months, while my fear of failure was at its peak, my dad told me, “We’re just little pinpricks on this planet, so go out there and have fun.” That’s when it clicked for me: Literally so few people cared about our small division cheerleading competition in Rockford, Illinois. Virtually no one cares in respect to the entire history of humanity. Why wouldn’t I have fun?

While my Catholic father certainly didn’t intend to plant an optimistic nihilism seed that would grow over the years, that’s what happened. I haven’t gone full nihilist, but I do think that most things don’t matter that much, so I might as well have fun. I’ll do my best to be a good person and make an impact on those around me, but if I don’t change the world, that’s okay. If I mess up, that’s okay, too.

I’m not implying that we should all go be bums on an island somewhere because it would be fun. I mean that if a controllable situation or circumstance is causing high levels of stress and anxiety, it can be helpful to reevaluate your mindset (worrying literally helps nothing ever) and perhaps begin to change the circumstance (If you hate your job so much, is it worth spending years of your limited time and energy at? Maybe it is worth it. I don’t know you. I’m really just talking about me.).

While the perfectionist in me is here to stay, my dad’s words have echoed in the back of my head for years. When I wasn’t sure if I’d remember my lines in my high school plays, when I got worked up over test scores in college, and now, when I’m stressed about work, I try to remember that it’s really not that deep. I’m a speck on the timeline of humanity, and I refuse to waste my limited time beating myself up over things that don’t really matter and are often uncontrollable. Instead, save that energy for the things that do matter.