I’m not competitive at all. I’m generally laid back, easy going and have realistic expectations. I don’t get upset if things don’t work out according to some detailed plan I’ve concocted in my head, mostly because I don’t concoct detailed plans in my head. I’ve never been much of a planner; I take things as they come, which can definitely be a detriment. It means that I can get complacent.
I was never one for sports. I never played on a team outside of gym class. Perhaps that is where children develop a sense of competitiveness and I missed out on it. Even when I play games, I don’t really get competitive. I’m almost as good of a loser as I an winner. I’m not a fan of losing, but if I’m beaten by a better opponent or an opponent who just had better luck, I usually take it in stride.
When I was a kid, due to my extreme shyness, I never yearned for the spotlight. I still don’t. I like anonymity. I like being in the background, out of the center of attention. Winning means attention and I don’t want it.
I don’t want to be the President; I’d rather be Chief of Staff. I would be better at navigating a ship than piloting one. I’m the second in command. I’m the person in the background, behind the puppet, pulling the strings. I am the pit crew. I am the Wizard of Oz hiding behind a screen. I shine internally, not externally. I don’t need to be recognized for my accomplishments. I don’t want recognition. I’d rather stay in the shadows.
Competitiveness is for people who yearn for the spotlight. That is not who I am. When you ask what I’m competitive about, I answer that I am only competitive within myself. Every day, I strive to be a better me than I was yesterday. That is the only standard that means anything to me, not some trophy handed out because I bested my opponents. The struggle is never ending as it should be.