Believing in oneself

One of the hardest things with which I've struggled from a young age is believing in myself. I've consistently found it hard to believe in my own abilities and this manifests in my life through small venues. From an anxious test-taking mentality (even if I've spent ample time preparing) to feeling imposter syndrome in classroom settings, there's this little voice in my head that's always telling me what could go wrong rather than how I should approach what lies before me. 

Perhaps my struggle to believe in myself manifests most clearly in sports, as contradicting as this may sound. It's springtime, my favorite season, which also means tennis season. Ever since I began playing tennis, I've found myself hitting well during practice. I swing through my shots fully, am not afraid to hit 100% when I'm putting away the point, and move my feet better across the court. Yet when I start playing matches or keeping track of points, something tenses up in me. My bones seem to turn into iron, preventing any sort of fluid movement. The way I practice seems to have never existed and my ability to swing through shots diminishes to maybe just 60% of what I usually can hit. During matches, what runs through my head should be "how am I going to hit that ball?" Instead, what I often find running through my head is "don't hit it out." That's what I've called my "bad mental game" all these years. Yet recently it became clear to me that it's not just as simple as one's "mental game." I believe it speaks to a greater mental barrier, or rather, this struggle to believe in myself. I am convinced that if I believed in my own ability to put the ball where I wanted to, I wouldn't play this way in matches.  

I'm working on getting over this barrier through tennis and hoping that playing this sport will encourage more self-encouragement in other areas of my life socially and academically. I need to get over selling myself short, so this week, I wanted to write about one shot I hit in a game that felt incredible. My partner and I were playing doubles and we were approaching the next for a short ball. It landed in the court, bouncing just behind the service line on my forehand side. The first thing that went through my head was "I'm going to keep my racket face closed." Then, as I began to swing, I said to myself "I'm going to end the point here." In doubles, middle balls are actually a difficult shot to receive since it requires more communication and if the other pair isn't positioned properly on the court, it could easily turn into a winner. And that's exactly what happened. The ball land down the middle, just beyond the service line, and just out of reach of both partners. A middle winner. An automatic point for us. At first, I was shocked that I had been able to hit at 100%, and the second after, I couldn't believe the ball had actually gone in. It was a surprising, surreal moment for me in a time when I've been struggling more than ever to see the light at the end of the tunnel. That point though is one to remember. 

Perhaps all we must do is turn to Descartes: I think, therefore I am.