Failure School: How to Succeed at Failing

99.99999% of your fears
live only in your imagination,
in anticipation, and in memory.

Even if the ‘worst’ happens,
you’ll find yourself dealing with it in the moment,
responding from a place of presence.

You don’t have to deal with it now.
You’ll handle it then.

And who knows:
The ‘worst’ thing may turn out
to be your greatest teacher,
your most profound call to awakening,
an invitation to the kind of courage
of which you’d never thought yourself capable.

Fear isn’t your enemy,
but a signpost.

Breathe into the moment.

– Jeff Foster

Benign

I just googled the definition of “failure.”  Here’s the most comprehensive and concise meaning I found: “the omission of expected or required action.”  Sounds pretty benign, right—so matter of fact?

The kind of fear of failure I’ve experienced along the way has been a far cry from this bland “omission” situation.  Quite the contrary; it’s been a crippling and immobilizing force that’s stunted growth, joy, and relationships.  From the anonymous surveys many of you were total champions for completing last week, I know I’m very much not alone.

I’m fascinated by this unruly expectation we place on ourselves to avoid failure. So much so that I’m developing some additional resources for us to dig into around this work on a deeper level.  For now though, I want to pepper your thoughts with some key insights that have become a lynchpin shift in my understanding and approach to failure.

Expectation Shift

The operative word in the above definition is certainly “expect” not “omission” as it relates to our study here.  Why?  Well, simply put, because it’s the subjective that we tend to personalize, not the objective facts.  I either deliver or I don’t and surely my life’s worth and value aren’t tied up in that slice of history.

Bomb

I’ve bombed so many performances it might lead you to wonder if I had a screw loose for continuing in my early music days.  For some ungodly reason, I kept going even though it felt like cruel and unusual self-harm.  Strangely, no one ever told me I sucked or bombed it or should definitely not quit my day job.  I only received encouragement and kindness.  I realize, we are in the South y’all.  Nonetheless, I’m a pretty good read and they seemed genuine.

Fall

We’re so tightly wound and attached to the narrow expectation of who we should be and how we should perform that we lose sight of the incredibly vast and curious horizons that come along with the fall.

Have you ever watched a toddler on the cusp of walking? First of all, it’s high and hilarious art.  Secondly, the ONLY way their tiny muscles are made stronger is by falling and getting up—over and over and over again.  And we “ooh” and “ahh” and gawk like grown chimpanzees about to be fed at the circus in response.  Go figure.

Imagination

So why is it so terrifying to fail?  I believe it’s because we are afraid of the way we will treat ourselves and as a result feel in response to our perceived failure–our missing the mark.  Like the poem states, nearly every shred of our fears live in the stories we make up about them, our imagination. Our fears are rarely tethered to reality and we drive the shame ship of our failure…we’re the culprit!  Sure, the outcome is humbling at first, but by elevating our belief about failure, we construct a new brain pathway or go-to storyline that facilitates self-compassion instead of self-flagellation.  We don’t evolve by playing it safe in a mole hole, but by staying present at the crossroads of failure and opportunity.

Know the Difference

Before you go poking holes in my sunshine, I’ll clarify an exception to the rule. There are two types of failure, and I refer to failure at this point as something necessary for growth and success.

There is all-in failure and half-ass failure.  All-in failure is when we’ve shown up,  given our all, and  fully engaged in the pursuit at hand, yet for whatever reason didn’t quite make the cut.  The passion and effort are there, yet the outcome is not—yet anyway.

Half-ass failure, as you might imagine, is missing the mark without giving it a fighting, bleeding-heart chance.  We’ve all been there, yet it’s not a  helpful pattern as it ultimately becomes self-fulling prophecy.  Oftentimes, this is simply a good indicator that we may not really want what we’re limping for and redirection is necessary.

Failure File

This homework might blow your mind and/or cause you to become extremely frustrated with me.  Both are fine, just keep me in the loop there. 

I’m convinced if we’re not wholeheartedly failing, we’re not stretching ourselves enough.

I recently heard a podcast interview with a man (whom I couldn’t catch his name for the life of me) talking about this very concept.  He’s a big wig coach who guides super successful executives into their highest potential.  He gave his clients strict homework to fail at least five times a month and record those failures in a specified file in their office, a failure file.  (Mic drop.) I nearly turned it off.

Momentum

I wrestled with this notion for a couple hours, and quickly became OBSESSED.  Fickle, yes.  I’ve started experimenting so as to really put myself out there in ways that seem uncomfortable and awkward.  You know what?  In the process, I’ve accomplished some pretty daunting goals I’ve had staring me down for months now and feel a noticeable momentum shift.  There’s something to this.

And so I dare you.  Start your own failure file this week and go for one “all-in fail” to add to it.  What comes up for you even thinking about this stuff?  Dig into to; dance with it.  It surely won’t kill you.  If nothing else, your world will be so much bigger for playing along.  Go ahead, give yourself total permission, or homework,  to fail.  There’s wide-open freedom and life in that movement.

A man we know and love called Winston Churchill said it well.  He’s a mixed bag of courage, successes, failure, bullheaded stubbornness, and legend all in one. His stories and words have a vibrant life of their own well after his last breath.  Now that’s gumption.

“Success is not final. Failure is not fatal.  It is the courage to continue that counts.”

-Winston Churchill

Love & Gratitude,

Katie

xoxo

World Gone Small: The Isolation Trap

I grew up in Mobile, Alabama. Mobile is a charming southern city, dripping with history, Spanish moss, and extra syllables. My elementary years were challenged as a kid with all that humidity and resulting frizz. However, despite seeming eternal spells of awkward and frizz, my childhood was wonderful in so many ways. I grew up with parents who love and enjoy each other as well as their five wildly colorful kids (still do, I’m pretty sure), and siblings whom I call my closest friends to this day. My Dad is a seasoned entrepreneur, writer, teacher, and visionary. For many years he served in ministry, traveling all over to share his keen insight and passion for our unique calling as Christians in this metastory of life and faith. Even though we grew up in a small town, my world view and hunger for more got off to a big start. I attribute this to my Dad.

One of the most valuable truths Dad instilled in us youngsters was that we were made for something bigger than our experiences, our agendas, and ourselves. My faith journey has been winding to say the least, yet I have always come back to belief in a God who is orchestrating something bigger than what I cling to now and that this God is indeed good. This always gives me hope in times when what I see in front of me is a dark and damaged view of Eden.

When I am cut off from a sense of bigger belonging and purpose, I experience deep depression and anxiety. Remember that scene in Star Wars when Leia, Luke, Han, and Chewbacca get stuck in the Death Star trash compactor? The walls close in on them as they frantically swim through a sea of garbage. Solo dryly remarks, “One thing’s for sure; we’re all gonna be a lot thinner.” Classic. Well, that scene portrays the claustrophobic doom experienced when I feel alone in my struggle. (Sans the charming reframe from Harrison Ford, aka the crush of my youth, and maybe even beyond…  ).

Connectedness to something bigger than self, such as creativity, community, and calling, serves as an emotional umbilical cord. It sustains a steady and nourishing life source of hope.

When depression and/or loneliness hit and that inner dialog goes south, we have two options. We can reach out or we can isolate in our pain. Isolation is a sexy temptress, luring us into her grip one little lie at a time.

I work with countless high achieving, self-aware people in therapy who experience a similar feeling from time to time. Often, this feeling is described as loneliness. Ahh, the “L” word. We have all felt lonely at one point in our lives and from what I have observed, loneliness is part of the human condition. Not to be a buzz-kill, but what if our expectation would allow for those times in life that we feel lonely? What if we could embrace this feeling of loneliness, knowing it is part of the collective human experience as well as one we in fact have control over?

When depression and/or loneliness hit and that inner dialog goes south, we have two options. We can reach out or we can isolate in our pain. Isolation is a sexy temptress, luring us into her grip one little lie at a time.
“No one will understand.”

“No one cares.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.” And on and on…

In many ways, isolation confirms a futile story we make up about ourselves that says, “I don’t deserve love and connection, and therefore I will hide out in isolation.” That screwy lie is the very culprit that endangers our existence and smushes a wondrous world of possibility into a tiny marble of a globe.

In her book Radical Acceptance (purchase at Amazon), Tara Brach articulates, “Feeling unworthy goes hand in hand with feeling separate from others, separate from life. If we are defective, how can we possibly belong? It seems like a vicious cycle: the more deficient we feel, the more separate and vulnerable we feel.”

With this in mind, it is vital that we take inventory of our sense of worthiness and connectedness. When the proverbial trash compactor starts closing in, how can we find a way out through resources of support and community? Life can feel lonely even in a room full of people, which demonstrates the faulty belief that we don’t belong. Lie of the century.

You do belong. You are significant, beautiful, and your life matters.