Fierce as a Tigress — Gentle as a Pussycat

Freewriting Friday — Think about the word competitive.

“Goals are those benchmarks which you may not achieve sometimes but you learn by them how far you can go” — Rohit Agarwal.

I’ve set an intention that I will live my life this year guided by inspiration and gratitude. It’s difficult to shift my focus from negative thinking to positive thought, but when I embrace goodness, a world of possibilities unfolds.

Beyond gratitude lists and self-affirmations, I set a benchmark to enter monthly writing competitions. I believed that if I genuinely wanted to grow, I needed to challenge myself in unchartered ways. I’ve always considered my competitive nature a deficit rather than an asset because I’ve typically used it to measure myself against others. Rarely have I used it as a standard to rise above myself.

In my twenties, competition became less foreign when I purchased a puppy, an English Cocker Spaniel, of show quality. After my handler quit before our first formal show because of a lack of time, she left me scrambling. At least she showed me a few handling tricks and I entered the ring with my best smile. We didn’t win that day, but I had plenty to be proud of.

In subsequent weeks, I took a handling course and began showing my puppy with greater confidence because our biggest competition, a blue roan puppy, was handled by a child. I could win this, I thought, despite my false sense of abilities and focus. But while showing my puppy fell within my responsibility, I wasn’t the one judged, nor was she. Or were we? This remained to be seen.

Show after show, the young girl’s puppy took the prize over Oreo, and my humility rose, but my competitive streak didn’t falter. I began criticizing the judges and my incompetence, but never the puppy. What could I say? I had to admit it. She was gorgeous. But if I were to help Oreo reach championship status, I would have to remain competing for the long haul. Losing was a hard pill to swallow, but eventually, I pulled out to have a child.

Some could say I failed. Others could say I succeeded through my willingness to engage in an activity I knew nothing about — to put myself out there — in front of a crowd. Oreo and I were both judged, and I came through it unscathed. After all, I learned winning isn’t everything; it’s the trying that’s the prize.

Fast forward to today, I’ve begun competing in writing competitions to reach my monthly benchmark. I made this a goal because I wanted to prove that I could complete something, no matter the cost to my pride.

I am a creative warrior who can withstand the challenges of competing because I can do anything if I set my mind to it. At least this is what I tell myself, but convincing myself this is true is hard.

I remember the competitive streak that surfaced against the child handler. Now I’m competing against skilled writers and it’s threatening my balance. Competition can get ugly. It’s my job to keep myself grounded.

My recent competitions have shifted my focus from competing against the other contenders to pushing myself — thanks to the contests’ multi-layered themes. I was no longer solely writing a winning piece, but also lifting others. This act was foreign to me because at no other time in my life can I remember being competitive and giving at the same time.

It was an oxymoron holding an important lesson.

Sure, I can compete, run the race against others, stomp on their good nature, climb on top, shoulder upon shoulder, to reach the coveted prize. But in the end, it would leave me empty, for there would be no one to share in my success. All the entrants would lay broken and spent on the ground in my unconscionable war.

Instead, I compete to make myself better. I long to hold hands with my competitors and together guide them toward success, while leaning on them should I fall.

Contests have challenged me to the max. I gladly looked imposter syndrome in the eye and told it to get lost. I have embraced readers cheering me on and welcomed writing cohorts who inspire me.

I am currently reaching my goals set out for this year and I have no intention of stopping. While I put myself out there, I am a winner no matter what. All I need to do is to remain faithful to myself and be kind to others who, like me, strive to be their best selves.

I have set an intention to live life with inspiration and gratitude through monthly competitions, and so far, I’m crushing it. I’m grateful for the chance to flourish. Living this way competitively has its benefits. I’m a tigress and a pussycat all rolled into one.

This story is in response to the following writing prompt.

If you’re looking for stories of varying themes, please visit my Midafternoon musings daily short-forms at The Daily Cuppa. Here’s one to try.