We often tell ourselves things like: I was good this week. I didn’t have any junk food, so I’m going to have some chocolate. I deserve it. I’ve been working hard all week. I’m going to take a day off, I deserve it. I’ve stayed up getting things done, I’m going to sleep in. I deserve it.
Or do you?
We all have some criteria to tell ourselves when we deserve something, when we should be rewarded for our tasks or behaviors. Sometimes our Ego inflates our perception of what we deserve when perhaps we don’t. And on the contrary, in our humility we may deserve more than we think we do.
Then there are others’ perception of what people deserve. Did that person deserve/not deserve to win? Do they deserve more than their paycheck? They deserve more recognition.
And that’s what it boils down to: recognition. You did something, accomplished something and there needs to be some recognition. Whether it be in the form of a small reward, be it emotional or physical, and sometimes, as in the world of sports, tangible. But a medal is more than just a medal, or at least some people think it should be. Not just a participation trophy, but a reward that signifies you did better than someone else.
And in order to prove you did better than someone else, the complicated world of criteria rears its Hydra-like head. Maybe you ran faster, but I can run faster at a different distance. You threw a rock far, but I can throw a different rock farther. You beat me up, but you weigh 100 pounds more than me. You can beat me in a fight with this sword, but I can beat you in a fight with a different sword.
I was never much for winning trophies. I competed in various speech contests in high school, but never really won much. I wasn’t much of an artist, nor did I play sports. In college, as you may well know, I was a competitive fencer. I never did well at open tournaments. Often I placed somewhere in the middle of the pack, mediocre at best. I did well at collegiate fencing, often winning tournaments, but even those were not solely me since I was part of a team.
But that was also when I was rewarded the most, with trophies and names on boards and in databases. Still there was a voice in my head asking: do you deserve it? At the college level I was good, in the grand scheme of things though, I was mediocre.
Now on to HEMA.
My first tournament I won silver. I can attribute that to my fencing background, but a part of me thought it was too easy. There was some fluke. This couldn’t possibly be representative of the sport. Then my second tournament, again another silver, and contested this time. Due to what I and others perceived as a bad call, I didn’t win the tournament. I began evaluating my skills, my abilities, and what I deserved.
I also discovered there was a rating system in HEMA, and based on my first tournament I was already 155th in the world (out of just short of 1000)...but did I deserve it?
I set a goal for myself although I’m not sure of the criteria. I want my own sword, but I’m not sure how to tell myself I deserve it. Money is an issue of course. I do have enough on a credit card to charge it, but do I deserve it?
My third tournament: another silver, and it was an honorable, evenly matched fight. Some even contested the last call that cost me gold, but I was satisfied with the outcome. Was it enough? I think that third tournament solidified my reputation. People knew of me. People talked about me. And after that epic gold medal bout, people started to know and recognize me.
So was that it? Did I deserve it? Did I finally earn it?
Other people jump right in to buying a sword, often before any other gear. It’s quite an expense. I felt like gear was a better way to start, better way to spend money up front. The sword can wait and a sword seems more symbolic. Plus, I want to know what I want. I want to try different styles and weights before I commit to a sword. And I want to feel I deserve it. Will it feel like something I earned?
After the results were posted for my second tournament, I jumped to 100th in the world.
My New Year’s resolution for 2019 was to place in a HEMA tournament; I won second in my first competition, then 2 more silvers after that. My New Year's resolution for 2020? Place in a different weapon.
The first tournament of 2020, I placed 3rd in two weapons. I also tied for 4th in another due to a rule set (criteria) that is too complicated to explain here...but I did beat the person who won 1st.
There is a voice in my head saying, “Not yet. This was not what your were looking for.” The two weapons I placed 3rd in, many of the more skilled and advanced fighters weren’t fighting. They had their own tournament fighting each other. I know if they were competing, I wouldn’t have gotten 3rd in either. My Ego won’t accept my victories. There’s always something I find that does not justify my arbitrary and undefined criteria.
I’m waiting for my ranking to be updated.
But I’m fighting on. Looking for that elusive Gold, something to prove that I deserve whatever reward I want to give myself, with no strings holding a ‘what if...’ or a ‘but…’ over my win.
People have suggested I teach a class or a seminar on how to fight better. I wouldn’t know where to start, I only know what I know. I’m not sure how to impart much wisdom. I didn’t learn from a book. I don’t study any books. I practice, I try, I fail, and I keep trying to learn. People have also wondered why I bother to take classes for a weapon I seem to know so well. If I know it so well, why don’t I have a gold? Why don’t quarterbacks retire when they win Superbowls? Or lose them? Why do the best athletes need coaches?
We want to win, we want to deserve it, we always want to get better. We have to let go of Ego, we have to do it for ourselves. Win or lose it’s about trying, giving our best and being satisfied. You will know when you deserve it, and rest assured it will be a victory or a reward, regardless of the outcome.
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