I remember feeling delirious and thinking that I wouldn’t be able to stand for the time it would take my Instructor to make his speech on dedication and hard work and perseverance. I remember my knees buckling and beads of sweat cooling on my face.
Practice had just ended and the belt-ceremony—where those who had passed their last belt test earned their next rank—had begun. I was exhausted from the past hour of continuous conditioning, but my name had been called and I needed to stand up. So I stood ready and with all the confidence of someone who knew they were going to be awarded and knew that they deserved it. I had worked hard for months for this moment. Nothing would stop me from enjoying it.
This is the moment that comes to my mind whenever someone asks me about when I felt most proud of myself.
Standing there, pushing through my discomfort, hearing my Instructor speak, thinking of all the time and the sacrifices that I had given for this moment—it was surreal. Right there, in that moment, I finally felt the explicit right to pat myself on the back and say with all seriousness “good job, you deserve this,” and man, was that a relief.
That moment meant that I had done it. That I was capable of whatever I set my heart and mind to. That moment meant that my work ethic was right where it should be, that the girl that used to sit by and watch everything unfurl around her was gone, and that my dedication was something to be reckoned with.
My years as a taekwondo student had led to this achievement. I was so happy to finally have that belt. It has my name on it, testifying that it was I who accomplished this. It testifies to the effort that I put in. I was relieved to have accomplished something so meaningful to me. I took taekwondo for my own interests, not looking to gain anything other than to be in physical and mental shape. Doing things for myself and for no other reason than for my own happiness—it’s wonderful. I gave more than 100%, I gave 200%, and God, had it changed me.
Taekwondo brought me closer to the person that I want to be. I adopted intense motivation and a “Yes I can” attitude, and learned what it means to speak up, work for what you want, and most importantly, try and try again. Eventually, I learned what it means to succeed.
The challenges I had faced up to that belt-ceremony, physical and mental, were arduous and had me working harder than in anything I have ever committed to before. But it was more than worth it. Why? Because the pesky voice within me that would question my worth—that would tell me, “You’re not good enough”—was being challenged.
Since taekwondo, since that moment of accomplishment, I can now reply: “Watch me be.”
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