the fear of failure
and stories of shame
greetings, greetings to you, dear reader.
we’re back to our regularly scheduled (not scheduled at all) content! if you missed my dissertation on where we get our water last week, you can check it out here.
in the moments of change and transition, as my life has seemed to be for the past year, i think a lot about my fear of failure.
the first time i really came to a head with this fear was when i had started a nonprofit in university. i was in school in new york city, and by proxy of living, working, and going to school in the city that never sleeps, i was in room after room after room with “important” people and decision makers. at the shiny age of 19.
my fear of failure was paralyzing. overwhelming. disorienting.
i remember thinking “what if i get found out?” “what if i fail?” “what will people think?” “will this ruin my future?”
and only through that process did i learn that there’s really no such thing as failure.
sure, we can have things not go to plan. and ultimately, like my nonprofit did, the business might close. but is that really failure?
when fear of failing stops us from moving one step forward (let alone one inch forward), when fear paralyzes us from decision making or action, we’re left with our thoughts of shame.
the fear of failure tells us that we must be the smartest person in the room at all times, that we must not show any vulnerability, that we must “fake it til you make it.” we’re also, paradoxically, supposed to be humble, to be the smallest person in the room, to be self-effacing. modest!
on the other side of that grand experiment, i disagree with every single one of the beliefs i held on failure.
we owe it to ourselves to relieve ourselves of the burden that we have to be the smartest person in the room. we owe it to ourselves to take risks, to leap and believe that a net will appear. we owe it to ourselves to be vulnerable with people in power, to show up as our authentic selves, to let go of the shame or belief systems that prevent us from walking in the world the way we want to. as a recovering perfectionist and a newly-blooming leo, i say to you, dear reader, that you deserve to SHINE.
granted, all of these things are far easier said than done.
but if the best day to start was yesterday, and we’re only given each day, don’t we owe it to ourselves to give our ideas, our thoughts, our authentic selves our best effort? to be a bright light in every room?
this soliloquoy isn’t as much for you, dear reader, as it is for me. (although if you’re getting something out of this, i am more than thrilled).
it’s a reminder to me that our fears often stem from the stories we were told about ourselves or the things that others believed about us. and we have the opportunity to set those aside and build our own stories of love and care and compassion and kindness. our own stories of what success looks like. our own stories that understand failure isn’t a negative, that every rejection is a redirection.
onward,
sara
rich reflection on the necessity of failure and the terrifying darkness of shame, its accompanying emotion. I suspect shame is one of the most powerful emotions - we all run from it. And if we can't run, we slink inwards, as if hoping to disappear. If we only, as you're doing, can get sufficiently comfortable to bear the anguish, the mortification, of shame, then the stumbling journey of finding our way in life can become ... what? somewhat less fraught with anticipatory failing and shame, so much freer to explore - and yes fail - and yes, continue the journey, perhaps even less stumblingly.
100% relate to that. Especially when it comes to my writing, which is public-facing. It often feels like my writing has to be perfect because there's no room to grow once your work is out there, like that should happen behind the doors where no one will ever see it.