The game of chess is of particular significance to me. It represents both the creative side of my personality and a previous tendency to overindulge in my hobbies to the detriment of my happiness. My relationship with chess has changed over the years, and this change mirrors a growth in maturity where I learned how to better manage my time and never allow anyone thing to occupy too much space in my life. Allow me to explain. Perhaps most of all, I learned through chess that there are sides to all of us that are not inherently good or bad but can be really influential to either effect in our lives, should we fail to manage them. The side of me that indulges in chess, carries both my best and worst attributes: creativity and obsession. While I used to (wrongly) believe that they were inseparable, I have since been able to find a happy medium in my life that allows me to be creative in spots without overextending myself. Let’s get into it.

I began playing chess when I was 12 or 13 years old but I stopped playing competitively when I was just 17. Though I never went on to become a particularly strong player, I was nevertheless really active in tournaments in and around Vancouver, a weekly attendee of my local chess club in Port Coquitlam, and an absolutely inappropriate amount of time to studying the game in various books on chess openings and tactics. What drew me to the game is the same thing that drew me to playing music, kickboxing, and even bouldering: the inherently creative and personal side of these types of activities. I see chess the same way I see fighting: the way one goes about is usually an extension of their personality. An aggressive person will often adopt an attacking style whereas a patient person is more likely to search for slow positional games. I fell in love with the world of chess because it allowed me to learn the rules, methods, and themes but then apply them any way I wanted. My inclination for self-expression drew my interest particularly to the study of chess openings. I would spend hours at the board with my opening books, going down the rabbit hole of different variations. Initially, I think doing this was somewhat beneficial as it improved my memory, attention to detail, visualization, and pattern recognition. Before too long, however, what started as a beginner’s passion soon devolved into an obsession that edged out more important responsibilities and eventually did away with any enjoyment I could possibly draw from the game itself. I was regularly trading in time that should have gone to school to eke out as many hours studying chess as possible. I would sometimes go until one or two in the morning on a school day! Not ideal, when you are 15 years old, growing, and supposed to be exposing yourself to a variety of experiences. I would justify the behavior by convincing myself that this is what people who wanted to achieve greatness had to do. Before too long my grades began to drop, I wasn’t prioritizing friendships, and my other pursuits were woefully neglected. Eventually, I couldn’t even contain my chess addiction to my home life and I began studying at school as well. I would play online games during lectures, study books at lunch, then try to get a classmate to fill me in on what I missed well I was off in my own world. That’s just the thing, at that point in my life I was perfectly content living in ignorant bliss well I did whatever I wanted to do. While there are certainly worse things someone in grade 9 can get up to, at that age, overindulgence of any kind is rarely a good thing: especially when it gets in the way of your ability to develop different interests and sides to yourself. Fortunately, I put a stop to the cycle before any lasting damage was done but it got worse before that happened. I was never a prodigy in chess or even a particularly promising prospect, nevertheless, I was active in tournaments, and made the best of what I had without a chess coach. I remember my Dad waking me up early in the morning on a Saturday to drive me to tournaments. The majority of them were far from where we lived, out in Vancouver West or Richmond so my dad would usually drop me off for the day. Despite mixed results, for a time I genuinely enjoyed competing. I loved nothing more than pitting my skills against others and then analyzing the game together afterward. What always fascinated me in this post-game analysis was hearing how my opponent’s thought process differed from my own when we were looking at the exact same position. What they were thinking at a given moment, the plans they were trying to implement, the threats they were concerned about, it never got old. The psychological side of the game was one area I was always strong in. I had great success using my body language for deception. I would often look intently and one side of the board to get my opponent concerned over what was going on over there when I had no plans in seeking activity there at all. I would fidget, tap my foot, smile at my opponent for no particular reason ( usually after they made a strong move and I wanted them to think that somehow it wasn’t as great as it first seemed), place my pieces sloppily, take an unreasonable amount of time to make an obvious move, and even the occasional cheeky remark. All of this to throw better players than myself off of their game, getting them to start playing emotionally and play moves they otherwise wouldn’t. Against truly talented and collected opponents this will not work, however, I stole more than my share of games from opponents to who I had no business competing. Learning how to effectively leverage the psychological aspect of competition along with simple tenacity is something I developed playing chess. So as you can see, it wasn’t all bad but it got to a point where I no longer enjoyed the game. I began to take chess so seriously that eventually, I was tying my sense of worth to the results at the board. When I lost it would put me in a bad mood for hours, all over a simple game. The hours studying, “sacrificing”, and putting the game first, it felt like none of it was paying off. Why after treating the game with so much respect and devotion was it not rewarding me with the results? After a few months of my results beginning to plummet, I finally had that eureka moment. I realized that I was the only one at the tournament hall who wasn’t enjoying myself. It made no sense, after all, we were all playing the same game right? While that may have been true, it was too personal for me at this point. I had destroyed any enjoyment I could ever get from the game because of the place I let it occupy in my life. So that was it. Somehow, I decided right then and there that this was never going to happen again with anything.. and it didn’t. I have a huge pool of hobbies today but I am not defined by any one of them on its own. For me, my pursuits need to make me happy because what is the point if they can no longer do that? This isn’t to say that I don’t commit to anything or only do things at a casual level or shy away from things when they are difficult. Far from it, but I am always aware of how things are affecting my headspace so that I can adjust accordingly. By doing this, I am able better able to make sure everything is in check. As for chess, which I still play! it was the thing in my life that taught me how to manage my efforts, and utilize my creativity without exhausting myself.