As a child, I was taught that there are no limits to what one can achieve if only one believes in the self. This proved to be significantly untrue as the years passed on, and the failures I endured have, on many occasions, rendered me helpless and discouraged me severely. I believe this is why I developed an affinity for the word ‘A’, for it is to me a word that mirrors both myself as a person and the person I aspire to become.
‘A’ is a word that frequently inhabits the start of a sentence, or bridges the distance between two other words. It is a rather lonely word, unaccompanied by any of its fellow alphabets, but even so its presence is undeniable. Without ‘A’, a sentence can never be perfect; it would be both structurally and grammatically flawed, as well as difficult to understand. It is rare in that it does not possess any definitive meaning, and it is this unmoored ambiguity that draws me to it.
I have always believed myself a conqueror. For me, there were no problems beyond solving, no mountains too high to climb. Whether it be grades or fitness goals, never before had I failed to attain anything I had set my sights on, and in endeavoring to keep that streak alive, I was a natural hard worker. Failure was a word for those who lacked control and motivation, and I carried myself with the pride of one who did not possess either trait.
I would come to realize, however, that there were some things in the world beyond conquering; for example, my relationship with my parents. I had always known that many of our values and perspectives were at odds, but now the chasm had grown too much. For years, I had walked the path they had constructed for me without complaint, but as I grew older, I began to realize that their desires did not match my own. I wanted to discover more about who I was when I wasn’t repeatedly contorting myself to meet their expectations. My parents could not tolerate this, and soon followed an endless flux between suppressed anger and outright conflict. The burn of being branded a failure was painful in its novelty, and this eventually led to a rapid decline in every aspect of my life.
In words, I found solace. I had always been an enthusiastic reader, and a passionate writer. Stories were infinite in a way reality wasn’t, and I wanted a taste of that infinity. I began to keep a journal, relishing the feeling of the abstract thoughts and emotions in my head gathering solidity and coherence through my words. I wrote of my frustrations, my thoughts on various subjects, the things that I valued. It was a small relief to be able to pour everything I had discovered to be purely ‘me’ into pages beyond the judgement of my parents.
One day, I wrote in my journal a question I had been pondering for quite some time; What am I?
I am a —. I got that far before putting my pen down with a frown. I was a…what? When I was younger, I relied on my parents to give me the answer, but now that I had altered from their version of myself, I could find no words to describe this changed selfhood. To define is to limit,
a quote from The Picture of Dorian Gray called to me. I turned over that quote inside my head for some time before erasing the a and replacing it with A.
I am A. In a sentence, after the word ‘A’ is written, you do not know what will follow. It is the first brushstroke on an unblemished canvas, the first, timid step into an unknown world. I love the word ‘A’ because it is undefined, untethered by any fixed meaning, and opens the door for other words to fall in after it to finish the sentence. It is infinity. It grounds me to my vow that never again would I allow myself to be defined by others who threaten to limit my possibilities.
This experience influenced me to be patient within long-term processes and brought me the
courage to not to give up when faced with setbacks. Whatever future challenges I might face,
viewing them as a part of a holistic process is important. Henry Ford once said, “Failure is only
the opportunity to begin again more intelligently.” I think of this quote when I am at a dead end and my plans might seem to be out of pace. I am reminded that I might be on the verge of succeeding. Water starts to boil at 100 degrees Celsius. If you think you are past the point at which you should reap the rewards of your hard work, do not give up. Your water might be at 99 degrees.