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Years of avoiding competition to keep harmony had left me without drive to push myself. I understood I was lacking the drive that comes from desiring to improve and win. Truly, looking back, I can't even pinpoint exactly when I lost that competitive advantage. It wasn't like I woke up one morning and chose to stop caring about succeeding. It was more slow, like a slow wearing away of my ambition that I hardly noticed until it was almost totally gone.

Throughout my twenties and early thirties, I had become the queen of avoiding conflict. I'd let other people take credit for my ideas at work. I'd never speak up when someone handled me unfairly. I'd accept mediocre relationships because defending what I really wanted felt too confrontational. My friends used to describe me as "laid-back", but honestly, I was just afraid of causing trouble. I thought if I stayed small and didn't question anyone, I'd avoid disappointment and disagreement.

The problem was, I wasn't just staying away from conflict with others – I was staying away from any type of competition, even with myself. I stopped setting goals because not succeeding felt too hurtful. I stopped experimenting because being a beginner felt awkward. I stopped pushing myself to get better because settling for "good enough" felt more secure than striving for excellence and possibly not succeeding. Life became this colorless life where nothing was awful, but nothing was exciting either.

I remember sitting in a evaluation at work and my supervisor telling me I was doing okay but not showing leadership ability. Instead of feeling motivated to prove her wrong, I just nodded and accepted her assessment. That night, I talked to my sister about it, and she asked me a basic inquiry that remained with me: "When was the last time you truly wanted to win at something?" And truly, I couldn't respond. I had no clue.

A few weeks later, I was seeing my brother and his family. If you liked this article and also you would like to acquire more info regarding doodle baseball unblocked nicely visit our own web page. My nephew was obsessed with this baseball video game, and he begged me to play with him. I reluctantly accepted, mostly because I didn't want to let down him. You know what? In about ten minutes, something unusual happened. He got a run against me, and I felt this tiny flicker of – wait for it – disappointment. I actually wanted to beat him! This emotion was so foreign to me that I almost burst out laughing.

But here's the point – that little spark of competitive spirit felt good. It felt energetic. My nephew saw my change in demeanor too. "Oh, you're getting serious now, Aunt Sarah!" he joked. And he was correct. Suddenly, I was focusing to the game, attempting different tactics, actually considering about how to win. I didn't end up defeating him that day – he'd been training for months and had way more skill – but I didn't even mind that much about not winning. I minded more about the idea that I had desired to win.

That night, I installed the same baseball game on my own phone. I started playing against the computer, just learning it. At first, I was awful. I kept striking out, my pitching was terrible, and I made embarrassing base running mistakes. But instead of giving up like I would have with anything else in recent years, I kept gaming. Something about the game made not winning feel less personal and more like – well, like a game.

Baseball games awoke a competitive side I had suppressed for years. The more I played, the more I discovered myself wanting to improve. I started looking up tactics online, watching guides, and training specific skills. I'd get annoyed when I made errors, but instead of quitting, I'd examine what went wrong and try to do better next time. This was totally new behavior for me. I was actually making an effort into getting better at something!

The desire to improve my scores and tactics motivated me in unexpected ways. I started establishing small objectives for myself – win a game against the computer on easy mode, then intermediate mode, then finally hard mode. Each time I accomplished one of these objectives, I felt this surge of satisfaction that I hadn't felt in years. It wasn't just about the game anymore; it was about proving to myself that I could still study and get better.

What amazed me most was how this newfound competitiveness started extending into other areas of my life. At work, I found myself speaking up more in meetings. I started accepting challenging tasks instead of always playing it safe. I even negotiated for a raise – something I never would have considered a few months earlier. My manager noticed the change and commented on my increased proactiveness and self-assurance.

This rekindled competitive drive led to increased drive in my profession. I started thinking about what I really wanted professionally instead of just going with the flow. I enrolled in some career advancement courses, applied for a leadership role on a project team, and started making connections more proactively at work. The fear of not succeeding was still there, but it wasn't paralyzing anymore. The baseball games had shown me that losing wasn't the end of the world – it was just information about what I needed to work on.

I also noticed differences in my personal life. I started being more honest in my relationships about what I wanted and needed. I set boundaries with people who had been using my people-pleasing habits. I even joined a recreational sports association, something I never would have thought about before rediscovering my competitive side. The first time I played, I was anxious about not being skilled enough, but I told myself that it was okay to be a beginner and that getting better was part of the fun.

My friends and family noticed the difference too. My sister told me I seemed more lively and enthusiastic about life. My brother noted that I seemed more self-assured and assertive. Even my mom remarked that I seemed happier and more involved during our weekly phone calls. They didn't know about my secret baseball gaming practice, but they could see the positive changes it was causing to my life.

Looking back now, it's almost amusing to think that a simple baseball video game could have such a deep effect on my personality and approach to life. But that's exactly what occurred. The games provided a secure environment to reconnect with my competitive nature without the worry of real-world results. Through playing, I recalled that desiring to win doesn't make you a bad person – it makes you human. Wanting to improve doesn't make you aggressive – it makes you developing.

These days, I still play baseball games regularly, though not as obsessively as I did in the beginning. They've become a fun hobby and a way to decompress, but more importantly, they've become a recall of the person I used to be and the person I'm becoming again. I'm more ambitious, more self-assured, and more willing to take chances. I still value harmony and relationships, but I've learned that being competitive and desiring to succeed doesn't have to come at the expense of being kind and considerate.

If you're like I was – stuck in a dull life, afraid of rocking the boat, avoiding any type of competition – maybe it's time to find something that awakens that competitive spark in you. It doesn't have to be baseball games, but discovering that thing that makes you want to improve, that makes you feel a little disappointed when you don't succeed, that might just be the key to rediscovering your own drive and ambition. Trust me, it's valuable.