Failure is, in Fact, an Option

I love seeing my former students on social media. Kids from whom I might never have heard again are a regular feature in my daily scroll on Facebook and Instagram- weddings, babies, careers, I am thrilled to see their trials and travails.

I have a former student, though, who posts a lot of motivational pep-speak. You know what I’m talking about. It’s all the trite catchphrases that we’ve all seen on posters with mountains. I know I heard all of them many, many times in my doomed stint as an Amway salesperson back in the ’80s:

“If you can dream it, you can do it.”

“One way to keep momentum going is to have constantly greater goals.”

“Nobody ever wrote down a plan to be broke, fat, lazy, or stupid. Those things are what happen when you don’t have a plan.”

“Failure is not an option.”

Ouch. That’s the one I really just cannot bear, for it is without grace. Seth Godin gets it. If we can’t fail, we fear to try. We quit before we ever even start.

No, I prefer the tune from the TV series for toddlers, Little Baby Bums (don’t ask me to explain the title, I can’t. It’s British. My one-year-old granddaughter adores it. It’s where most of my life philosophy lessons are found these days).

 

We try. We try our best when we know there’s a risk of failure, but we’re safe to flounder. I have ever been a perfectionist, so hard on myself. When failure happened to me, I punished myself. Sometimes physically, in the form of withholding food or cutting myself. More often, emotionally: isolation, castigation, criticism. It’s been difficult to learn how to grant myself grace.

I manage and execute and event for my job. It’s just two days, but over 40,000 people attend; I plan all year. When I took the job, I inherited a chaotic, sloppy mess with little credibility; in five years, I have held myself to exacting standards, taking an occasion suffering from mismanagement and on the brink of failure to one with credibility and popularity in the educational community. I have worked really, really hard, and I am proud of it.

This year, though, was more of a struggle than it has been in a long time. My boss held a figurative ax over the event and my job, I found myself trying to work for three separate employers while taking care of my infant granddaughter. I had less support staff than I have ever had. I was living in a state of stress and anxiety that I had not experienced in ten years; and that time I was admitted to a mental hospital for a nervous breakdown. I faced a choice between my mental and physical health and a perfect event. And so… I gave myself permission to ease up. A couple of details were missed.

And wouldn’t you know it, this was the year that the criticism had to come. I’m still stinging from it, to be honest. This is when the mantra “Failure is not an option” is, to be blunt, a load of BS. The criticism may very well have been valid, though it can be tough to take when the critic is not privy to all the elements of the situation. Author and researcher Dr. Brene’ Brown describes living with a strong back, but soft front. It’s how we can live with strength in pliancy. My back was not quite strong enough to execute a perfect event this year. My front has to be soft enough to hear the criticism without taking it to heart.

Brene

When we can’t fail, we can’t try new things. That’s the bane of innovation. But just as important, if we fail but can’t get back up, dust ourselves off, and keep going, we live in pain. We become depressed. Ill. Anxious. Resilience is not born out of dwelling on our failures. Nor is it found in sitting in stasis. No, resilience is created when we have the courage to try coupled with the grace of self-forgiveness, no matter the critics who will inevitably come forth.

Failure must, in fact, be an option.

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What I Know for Sure

Sometimes life is funny
You think you’re in your darkest hour
When the lights are coming on in the house of love- Amy Grant*

Each morning as I drive to work, I try to get my brain and heart into a healthy setting, one that enables me to walk through my day in a way that’s uplifting. I am not the greatest at living with a happy face, my sunshine-spreader is faulty, I think. It needs a little nudge every day. So I listen to Oprah. I love Oprah deeply, though I have never met her. No matter, I love her. Sometimes I play a little movie in my mind in which my doorbell rings and when I open it, she’s standing there in all her Oprah-ness and I essentially collapse to the hardwood floor inside my entry, sobbing in joyous abandon. She picks me up, wraps me in her arms, fixes me tea, and we curl up on my sofa for an afternoon of chat.

Funny, right? Her podcast is as close as I may ever get (I refuse to phrase that as a definitive “will ever get” because I have listened to enough Oprah Super Soul to know about manifesting what I speak. But still.) to meeting her and basking in her sunny aura. So I listen every morning. I need fortification before entering my workplace.

Susan's Special Needs: Oprah Talks to Cheryl Strayed About ...

Today, she asked Cheryl Strayed (another hero) a question that I have heard her ask so many times: “What do you know for sure?” I don’t always have a response, usually, my brain is a little too foggy at 7:45 in the morning to snap to attention for the question. But not today. Today, my brain, no, my heart, had a ready answer. What do I know for sure?

I am loved.

Not by everyone I meet, no. I think one of the blessings of getting older is coming to the realization that it’s not necessary to be loved by everyone. It’s not necessary, nor is it possible. An authentic life is a little messy and an authentic person is too. The rougher, unpolished edges of authenticity will scrape upon some in my path. The vibration that I walk with won’t resonate with everyone I meet. In fact, it will create dissonance with people whose vibrations aren’t compatible.

That’s okay.

I am loved anyway, and by enough people that life is good.

Here’s my shortlist of people who love me. It’s not a definitive list, I will probably think of people to add and add and add.

My cousins Rebecca and Jen.

My friends Whitney, Angela, Eide, Jen, Becky, Sherry, and Rosella.

My colleagues Sylvia, Teresa, Darla, and Melody.

College pals Kayla, Cheryl, and Heidi.

The children I have heart-adopted: Jorge, Rileigh, Mandy, and Trevor. As well as other former students gathered in 22 years in the public school classroom.

My in-laws: Jackie, Tom, Trent, Holly, Mason, and Abi.

The mother of my heart, Dorothy.

My angel-in-heaven mentor, Ellen.

My children, Hilary, Travis Austin.

My husband, Travis.

Back of Family

My heart is full as I type the list. There have been dark days in the 52 years I have walked this planet. Days when I was sure that if I disappeared, no one would notice or care. Do you remember planning to run away when you were a child? Throwing your essentials in a backpack while muttering to yourself, “I’ll show them. They won’t even know that I left. Mom and Dad can just sit around and watch TV and I will go do what I want!” Of course, that’s not likely what would happen, but I know I had a couple of days much like that when a kid. But also when an adult. Once, driving home from a session with my therapist, I contemplated committing suicide. I thought maybe I’d just drive my car at high speed into the cement barriers that separated the lanes of traffic on the busy Houston freeways. As I drove, I tried to imagine whether people would even bother to come to my funeral. I mean, I knew Travis and the kids would. But would anyone else? My brain began to populate the pews of a church sanctuary and before I’d passed too many more exits off the highway, and I realized that there were more people who’d miss me than I had thought. So instead of ramming my Ford Escort into the barriers, I drove on home and gave each of my family hugs. They didn’t know, though I did, how close I’d come that day to checking out.

I think it’s important to know for sure that we are loved. It’s the most important thing there is to know. It’s what enables resilience. Love gets under us and lifts us up when we’re low.

Look around today, let the Divine One remind you of the people who love you. Open your heart to that love. Let it flow through you, break you open, patch you up, strengthen your steps. Accept it. You are loved.

I know it. For sure.

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*”House of Love” written by Greg W. Barnhill, Kenny Greenberg, Wally Wilson

 

 

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