Chess Used To Scare The Crap Out Of Me

Dear Worlds,

I am 34, and last week I played chess for the first time. It was a slow day at the store, my colleague had brought a board and suggested we played. I was terrified.

I remember my dad trying to teach me when I was a kid. 

I was under the impression that if I could play, I would be validated as part of the smartest people in the room. The ones that were superior because they were very good at math. In fact they were so good that, to them, it was play. I wasn't bad at math, but I was just good enough to pass as smart. Which I had a feeling wasn't the real thing.

My dad tried to teach me the basic rules of chess. Once. Twice. But my brain refused to engage.

My brain said, it's not safe to take the time to think three steps ahead. If my attention is focused on this for too long, I might miss the signs of an immediate danger elsewhere. And what if playing chess is not a tool I can use to go through life safely? And what if... I lose? That sounded risky. I wasn't (always) a sore loser at simpler games, but with chess, stakes were too high.

Just as it was with chess, when all my friends at school were reading a ton of books, my brain said: it's not safe to take the time to read. What if something bad happens while I'm reading? And what if I'm not reading the right book? Everyone else will have read the right book and I will be left behind. Might as well not read at all and use my time wisely - safely. Keeping my guard up. Being alert at all times.

So here's how I operated instead: I got very good at avoiding time-and-attention-consuming activities of any sort, by finding immediate, easy solutions for everything. I hyper-winged it. With great efficiency, my brain spotted the main facts, the few things that seemed to matter the most to other people - they were the ones making the rules -, and stored them just long enough to pass the test. Literally. History test next week? Don't think about it yet - open your class book the day before, skim through it, you'll be fine. Someone wants to play chess? Look like you're totally secure and smart enough to play when you say "sorry, I have homework to do".

And it worked. I got excellent at not getting too deep into anything. 

And I passed. Always. Which I had a feeling wasn't the real thing.

When my colleague offered to play, I didn't have homework to get away from it. I told her it was hard for me to play this kind of game, because somehow, my brain wasn't great at processing a set of rules where pieces operated simultaneously under different sub-rules from one another. I felt anxiety in my body. And I thought, this is ridiculous. This shouldn't affect me so much. Seeing how enthusiastic she was, I also couldn't really justify not trying and playing again. And I was over feeling like I would never be smart enough to play, like I was limited in that way.

We started playing.

I embraced losing piece after piece because, eventually, as an adult, I had learned that you actually grow by experimenting and making mistakes, by losing pieces. 

Until... it was down to her king and queen and my king, and I was obviously screwed. I played all the scenarios in my head. I couldn't let go. There had to be something I could do to win. I was smart. What was it about losing this game that I just couldn't accept gracefully?

After long, long minutes, my colleague said, should we stop the game? She knew she had won which meant the game was finished, and that was good enough for her. I said, okay okay, I lost, but WAIT, don't wrap up, you have to kill me first. Do it. Kill me.

I couldn't just finish the game without facing my demise dead in the eyes. I felt like it would make me a coward. Like once again, it would be me winging it to avoid losing for real. I felt like really losing that first-ever game of chess was like a threshold I had to go through to be at peace.

And it was. 

And I have a feeling that was the real thing.

Source: @urbanexpeditions