4th
This past weekend, I jumped into another padel tournament, my second competition in this sport. Honestly, there was zero serious prep involved, I merely stepped in as a last-minute substitute for a friend who couldn’t make it. We wrapped it up in the semi-finals, taking fourth place. Two tournaments in, and two consecutive fourth-place finishes.
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Thinking back to my first tournament, I had pulled an all-nighter right before because of an overwhelming crisis, my body and mind were shutting down, yet I forced myself to honor my commitment to my teammate. This second time around wasn’t much better, barely four hours of sleep, running on fumes amidst this ongoing mental torment. It’s frustrating because, judging by the bracket, I know I had a podium finish in me. Still, I take what I can get and remain grateful for the outcome.
Padel is a compelling outlet, and it really helped blow off the suffocating steam weighing on me. But I think I’m hanging up the racket very soon. I need to pivot toward something new, a non-gameplay hobby. It’s advice that keeps echoing from the people around me, to survive this trial, branch out into pursuits that aren’t bound by matches and scores. I’ll likely drop anchor in mountaineering.
The lingering ache of missing her, the craving for her embrace, the friction of stepping into the unfamiliar, the exhaustion of forcing a daily rhythm, I have to push through every single bit of it. I have to wage this war against myself. Because the bitter truth has settled in, I will never be enough for anyone else in this world, which means I must learn to be entirely enough for myself.
