Doubts

In my youth, I spent a lot of time and energy doubting myself. Whether it was my personality, my character, or my abilities. Comparing myself to others, in my case, pushed me to value achievements. Whether it was a ribbon, a plaque, or a trophy, I didn’t care. I was after some kind of recognition. The object gave me a solid sense of accomplishment
At the same time, I hated competition. With six younger brothers vying for my parents’ attention, I stood back. In school, I didn’t want to participate in recess activities. A coach challenged us to do as many chin-ups as we could. In that case, I outmatched most of the class with ten quick chin-ups. I could have done more, but decided to stop. I was already in the lead. One boy did twelve. I was safely in second place.
The double standard, to me, was necessary. At home, the child who got the most attention received the most pushback. I had no older siblings, and was encouraged to act as a good example for my younger brothers. I didn’t speak up or act out of turn, which father acknowledged. Nor did I protest when a birthday gift meant for me was broken in half in response to his tears at feeling left out. I purposely let him keep the other half of a NASA launch pad model.
Doubts were actually one of the motivations to become a distant observer of life. Successes drew attention. In one class, we were required to bring something for show-and-tell. One week, out of ideas, father suggested a little experiment. Burning sugar in a spoon produced carbon as its base element. He didn’t think the spoon would burn my fingers. I held onto the spoon as the sugar burned, wincing in pain. It took some time for the spoon to cool off enough to pass it around to the rest of the class. Vaseline took the pain away later.
I developed a sense of endurance through those events, and it served me well. Much like patience, endurance took discipline. Endurance turned pain into a passive adversary. That placed my focus on doing my personal best. In that respect, I eliminated the risk of competition. I saw what could happen when competition went too far. Fouls, fights and bad sportsmanship spoiled the desire for achievement vehemently.
I earned a few bowling trophies, something father didn’t expect. In that sport, there was very little chance of cheating, but it happened. A cough or a shout was meant to break my concentration, as it does in golf. In the noise of a bowling alley, their distractions made little difference to me.
I also learned to tolerate noise at home. Six brothers had a knack for making a lot of noise. That trait had good and bad effects. Between two extremes, I chose to listen. It resulted in a kind of awareness I could never resolve completely — anxiety.
No matter the doubt, I sought to either nullify the possibility or satisfy the curiosity. That resulted in developing almost instinctive research skills... The basis for my unobtrusive observation.

Yours Truly;
A student of life.