My dearest Adventurers, I must make a confession. I am a failure. I have failed repeatedly in my time on this planet. I have failed tests, failed job interviews, failed to show up, failed to be present, failed to plan, failed to remember, and probably failed to remember all the things which I have failed. I am a remarkably successful failure. Like everyone else, I struggle to admit when I fail, and I can be extremely hard on myself, especially in public.
I have chastised myself when I have failed to meet the standard of motherhood that I have let others create. I have stewed in self-pity when I cannot meet a deadline or accomplish a high-profile task at work. I have questioned my commitment to my goals when I fail at a lift or maintain the nutritional levels I set for myself. I am very quick to tell myself that others do not fail in this manner, that if I had just worked harder or prepared better, I would be better.
Now, I could argue, Adventurers, that there are times that I can point to factual moments where I did or did not do something that led to a failure in my efforts, and as such, yes, I could have done better. But does that mean that I would be better? Or rather, am I better for these failures? When I fail to meet a deadline at work, I have two choices: I can dwell and wallow in self-pity, evaluate what caused the failure, and reach out to mentors and colleagues to look for insight on how I can do better next time.
In the last few weeks, I have missed, or “failed,” several lifts. Typically, when I miss a lift the first time, there are a few moments of standing, staring at the bar, and maybe saying mean things to myself (I willingly admit that I am dealing with being hyper-critical). But after a moment or two, I reset and try again. Usually, I can take the time to shake out that frustration and hit that next lift. When I fail again? I get angry.
As most of you have seen, I record many of my lifts. While I love sharing them with you, I do not record them for you. I record them so that I can go back and look at them. Analyze why I missed the lift, where was my technique wrong? If I continue not to be able to hit that lift (hello last Saturday), I resign myself to lowering the weight and focusing on my technique.
So why is it that I wonder? I understand that when I “fail” during my workout, I know how to step back and work through the problem. But I sit and struggle when I “fail” in the middle of a work situation, or even just in my everyday life. Why do I shut down and hide? How do I get okay with failing? How do we get okay with failing? What does it bring us to be okay with failure?
I will tell you that if you research why failing is okay, there are a million answers. But I will encourage you not to look online, but inside (yes, it’s a cliché, I know). When we fail, it is an opportunity to reevaluate our efforts, thoughts, plans, and goals. It helps us build the “think skin” we always encourage our children to have. Were you a “gifted” kid? I was. I had excellent grades in everything except mathematics (and a year and a half of Spanish, but that’s a different story). Math was a struggle, and I developed a vehement dislike for it. Because I did not have teachers who encouraged me to live in this place of struggle and failure, I avoided every math class beyond what I needed to graduate. This means that I know that when my children reach middle school, I will struggle to help them with math.
My children. They are why it is okay to struggle and to fail. It is so good for people who look up to you to see you fail and see how you manage that failure. Whether it is children, work subordinates, peers, or even superiors, letting people see you fail is letting people see a very raw and vulnerable you. When we fail, we are vulnerable. We are emotional, strained, and very real. Children learn how to deal with failure by seeing their parents fail. Our subordinates decide how we will handle their failures by how we manage our own. Our supervisors? They will base decisions on giving you more opportunities on how you handle failure and success.
When I was in the military we used to hear “embrace the suck” a great deal. Accept that things are bad and move on. While this can seem very callous and cold, there is a lesson. When you can embrace that things have not gone right, look for the good that brings you, and fight for better, you, my lovely Adventurers, have succeeded in your failure.
Take me home!