I once failed at something very ordinary: I quit my job to pursue a path I believed was a better fit for me. When I made that choice, I wasn’t being impulsive. I had thought it through, made a rough plan, saved some money, and truly believed that if I worked hard enough, everything would work out.
But reality hit me faster and harder than I expected. A few months in, the new venture wasn’t gaining traction, the money started drying up, and I began waking up every morning with a heavy, nameless anxiety. Even though no one was blaming me, the feeling of failure started gnawing at me from the inside.
“Failure is an event that happens in a life; it is not a label for a human being.”
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When self-doubt takes over
The most exhausting part wasn’t the project falling apart; it was losing faith in myself. I started questioning my own judgment. I looked back at my past decisions and wondered: Was I wrong from the start? Was I just delusional about my own abilities? In that moment, failure wasn’t just a result; it became a silent conclusion: that I wasn’t good enough.
How I handled failure the wrong way
At first, I chose avoidance. I told myself it just “wasn’t the right time,” or that “everyone has a hard start.” But the more I tried to reassure myself like that, the more I procrastinated on facing reality. Then, I swung to the other extreme: self-blame. I got stuck in a loop of “What ifs”: What if I had prepared better? What if I hadn’t been so rushed? What if I were like those people who stayed stable? Neither of these paths helped me move forward.
Don’t equate “a failure” with “being a failure”
When my post-quitting plans started spiraling, the objective truth was simply: I chose the wrong time and didn’t prepare enough. But in my head, the story got distorted very quickly. I stopped saying “I failed at this” and silently shifted to “I am a failure.”
That shift is dangerous because it ignores all effort, circumstances, and factors beyond your control, boiling everything down to a single judgment of your character. When failure becomes your identity, you lose the motivation to fix things because you believe the problem is you, not the method.
“Don’t turn a temporary mistake into a life sentence for your entire self-worth.”
Things only began to loosen up when I stopped and looked at the truth: I was a person who made a wrong decision, not a failed person. I still took responsibility for my choice, but I stopped using it to negate my entire value. This distinction didn’t make the failure go away, but it stopped it from being a life sentence. That was the most important step in standing back up instead of staying stuck in self-condemnation.
Looking at the facts: Where did I go wrong?
I sat down and wrote out my mistakes in detail. I forced myself to avoid vague words like “stupid” or “useless” and stuck to the facts:
- I underestimated the pressure of long-term financial strain.
- I lacked a “Plan B” for when things didn’t go as expected.
- I didn’t have a deep enough understanding of the field I was entering.
For the first time, failure wasn’t a murky cloud. It had a shape, a cause, and most importantly: it was adjustable.
Failure isn’t a dead end—it’s feedback
From that point on, I started viewing failure as honest feedback from reality. it was telling me that my current approach wasn’t a fit for this specific context. Shifting my perspective helped me stop fighting reality and start working with it.
“Learning to fail better is the closest step toward sustainable success.”
How to “Fail Better”
I didn’t stop failing immediately, but I learned how to fail without destroying myself:
- I allowed myself to be sad, but with a deadline. I didn’t force myself to be positive right away, but I refused to drown in infinite regret.
- I separated what I could control from what I couldn’t. I stopped blaming myself for unforeseen external factors.
- I adjusted my expectations for the future. I became more realistic, preparing for risks instead of betting everything on blind faith.
When failure is no longer the enemy
I realized the people I admire aren’t those who have never failed, but those who didn’t let failure “freeze” them. They made mistakes, but they didn’t stand still. They fell, but they didn’t use that fall to conclude they were worthless. I’m not proud of failing, but I’m not ashamed of it either. It’s a part of growing up—unpleasant, but necessary.
Failure isn’t scary; what matters is how we treat it. When you learn to fail better, you don’t become invincible, but you do become more mature, clearer-headed, and less likely to hurt yourself. Sometimes, that alone is a massive leap forward.
Don’t be afraid of tripping; be afraid of standing still and blaming yourself in the mud of the past. Are you holding onto some “feedback” from reality that you’re too scared to open? Try sitting down and writing out your lessons today.
