Adam Wilson, GPC Student

Finding Confidence

The soft black footwear felt tight and undersized. The dark cloth squeezed my feet and restricted my circulation, but the shoes did not worry me. The singlet--a full-piece spandex garment shaped like boxer shorts sewn to a tanktop--was unfamiliar and itchy, but it did not worry me either. The white headgear hugged my face and ears. The chinstrap felt constricting and made breathing more laborious, but even this detail did not worry me. I, a newly trained seventh grade wrestler, stood at the edge of the dark mat’s white circle. I stared a hole in the floor, breathing quickly and deliberately. Coach Hobbs, ever demanding but nonetheless encouraging, rubbed my shoulders and gave me some undoubtedly good advice. I could not hear him though. The pulsing of my heart roared loudly in my ears, drowning all other noises. I had been a social outcast most of my life. I did not listen to popular music, watch popular shows, swear, or generally behave in the expected manner. Regardless, I had this opportunity to earn respect. I knew I had but to prove myself that night. Staring at the white circle, though, I feared to look upon my opponent. I was worried.

To say the least, I had never carried myself with much confidence. Amongst my peers I was considered nerdy and weird. Fortunately, I never had to face much physical bullying, but the constant taunting and frequent insults cannot be endured long before they start to wear down a person. As a result, I never stood with appropriate posture and always stared at the ground, refusing to look anyone in the eye. In this utterly unconfident state of mind, I walked into the Loganville High locker room to prepare for my very first match. The wrestling meet would not begin for another two hours, but adrenaline was already pumping through my blood. My hands noticeably shook from anxiety, and several people asked me if I was feeling well.

A short time later, I entered the mildly crowded gym with even less confidence than I had only a few hours ago. Warm-ups had not gone well for me. All through the team’s practice I felt myself forgetting all I had learned. I could not remember holds or pinning combinations, moved unforgivably slowly, and felt the strength of my grip give way at the slightest provocation. With my disastrous pre-match performance in mind, I sat on the sidelines and awaited the task before me. At once I was both completely focused and horribly distracted. I could not stop thinking about my match but was unable to contemplate the appropriate topics. I only thought about the consequences of the match’s outcome and not about the strategy I would use. My mind raced uncontrollably. “I’ll be embarrassed if I lose. If I win it’ll be great. What if I make a stupid error and it costs me the match? What if I get hurt? I wonder who my opponent will be.”

The meet lasted longer than I expected. The minutes dragged along with unbearable slowness. I almost felt as if I had aged several years when the ninety minutes had finally passed and Coach Hobbs turned to me and said, “Adam, you’re on deck.” My heart rate leapt to a fervent pitch. It felt as if it were trying to beat its way out of my chest as I stood to perform my stretches. Suddenly, a realization arose from the remotest recesses of my mind. Bending down with my hands stretched to my toes and my forehead planted firmly on my knee, I thought, “This is my chance.” I had not joined the wrestling team to prove myself, but the opportunity to perform this very act became entirely clear to me in an unforeseen moment. Somehow in this last flow of thought I found myself at the edge of the mat with the ominous bright circle looming just below my gaze. Nervousness never gripped my mind and body as firmly as it did in that moment. The time had come to face my opponent.

When a balloon swells beyond its capacity to contain the air trapped within, it pops with a sudden jolt and, free of all the tension it once withstood, goes completely limp. Just as my mind and emotions came to an insurmountable boil, I saw my opponent. He was entirely unimpressive. He stood a full six inches shorter than myself, possessed a notably heavy build, and had no observable muscle. The tightness fled my joints and muscles as villagers before Frankenstein. Calmness and peace of mind immediately fell over me. I stepped up, shook the kid’s hand, and assumed my wrestling stance. My muscles flared again, but now they filled with strength and not unsteadiness. I was ready rush this unsuspecting kid in a burst of confident energy.

The referee blew the whistle. In less than a second I toppled my opponent over by his legs. Not giving him the chance to roll onto his stomach, I squeezed his soft upper body together then pulled his right leg up to his chest. I could tell by the resistance of his joints that he was highly inflexible, so the second I successfully locked his leg in the air his shoulders hit the mat. In all, the match lasted less than thirty seconds.

Even though my very first opponent was very easily overcome, I still felt empowered by the experience. I did not take joy in embarrassing in the kid, but I was happy I had scored points for our team. This first match marked the beginning of my self-image improvement. I won many more matches and lost several others, but I still recognized the greatly increased respect my peers were paying me. As time passed, I became a highly outspoken individual. I was no longer afraid to converse openly and look people in the eye. My confidence improved me socially and made me happier. After a few months had passed, I simply did not worry so much.