Committing Myself to Being an “Obliterator”
Ava, age 5
When I was younger, my mom, dad, younger sister, and I would routinely stroll to the park together toting a picnic blanket and four Vegemite sandwiches. We would always go to Washington Square Park for the passionate jazz music that often played and the lush vegetation that made us forget that we lived amidst the clamoring bustle of New York City. There was one place in the park that brought me both a lot of fear and a lot of joy: the towering water fountain that showered me with cool sprays of water that made my sister and me squeal in delight on those steamy July days. Its white turrets of foamy water shot up into the air at an alarming rate, and all the older kids loved to dare each other to run through. I was sure that if I tried, I would shoot up into the air with all of the water. Encouraging their friends, the older boys lined one side of the grey stone base, their dripping hair a sign of their own recent victory. One boy finally plucked up the courage to take the plunge. He emerged from the white water, his hands in fists high above his head, whooping and hollering with glee. Even though I was only seven, I realized at that moment that if I was going to tell myself “I can’t” all my life, I would miss out on some exhilarating, possibly life-changing experiences. I closed my eyes, curled my fists by my side, and began to chant “I can do it, I can do it,” over and over again until I had convinced myself. With a running start, I sprinted through the fountain and came out the other end. My heart raced almost as fast as the moment had flown by. I gulped in air quickly though my mouth as my nose now felt the fresh pressure of water. I turned back to look at the fountain I had just conquered and it seemed much smaller than before.
This was my first memory of ever challenging my comfort zone. Now, I continue to actively search for instances where I can lean into discomfort and dare myself to chase opportunities because I now know that doing so is the best way to learn and grow as a person.
Running for student leader my first year of High School was one of these moments that I had to remind myself how rewarding these challenges are. I designed posters, wrote a speech and delivered it to my grade somewhat shakily, and couldn't believe it when my name was called as representative of the class of 2022. Questioning why I would opt not to do these challenges (if I gave myself the option to) or why I can't believe it when these challenges reap so many benefits, has also been very formative. I realize how little I trust myself and my abilities. Every time I chisel away at my own expectations by making myself take a risk, I grow more confident and take more pride in my own capabilities.
I took even more chances over the years, and they're each memories I look back fondly on. I joined a competitive swim team and a competitive volleyball club. I joined my High School's Varsity Volleyball team as a Freshman. I hosted a symposium for the entire High School on the history of feminism since the 1960's. I created and host my school's podcast which is taking a chance every week a new episode is released. But I am even more proud of those moments that didn't seem as outwardly successful. I competed in a national beach volleyball tournament and placed 12th (don't ask me how many teams there were) and after three years of competitive volleyball, I decided to focus my efforts on something new and more exciting to me. There are times where risks don't work in the way you hope they might, and that's why they're risks. They wouldn't be nearly as valuable if you didn't have something to lose. You can never say that you'll stop being an "obliterator" either. It’s a constant process. Instead of being daunting, I see it as exciting. You discover new things about yourself and expel any regret. We only have one life, so why not spend it doing the things that, deep down, you know you want to do?
