The Emotional Reality of Competition Math

I used to prepare for the AMC like my life depended on it. In high school, I would walk through the hallways between classes with my head buried in problems. During family gatherings, I had no interest in socializing; I was entirely immersed in math. I didn't even care about other subjects. I would study for the F=ma physics olympiad for maybe two or three hours total, but for math, there was no limit. Like anyone truly passionate about this field, I loved sitting in silence for hours, pondering cases, and slowly unraveling a solution.

But passion does not guarantee a fairy tale ending. After two years of relentless preparation—missing AIME in 9th grade, then missing it again by just six points—I walked into the AMC 12A and scored a 70.5. I made over five catastrophic silly mistakes. I was devastated. I felt so ashamed that I imagined even the proctor looking at me and thinking I was terrible at math, despite the fact that I had successfully solved problem 21. Going into the 12B a week later, blinded by anger, sadness, and pessimism, I scored a 48. That was below the national average. An average student who prepares for less than an hour scores higher than that. I watched peers succeeding in chess and violin, and I felt I had absolutely no purpose. I couldn't even achieve the bare minimum in my own special domain.