First Comes Failure

“Sometimes you win, sometimes you learn”.

To think I found such a hard-hitting sentiment while angrily searching the depths of the Internet for something I could passive aggressively pop into my IG story post-breakup is only suiting.

My pettiness has been a source of self-discovery more times than not.

I often find that we aren’t as willing to talk about our failures as we do our triumphs on the basis that we consider the former to be a reflection of character fault, a fuck up, or even an embarrassment.

People are quick to boast about their grades, income, sexual history, or the one time they met a celebrity– but are usually more reserved when it comes to talking about the time they lied to their loved ones, hit their neighbors car while backing out of the driveway, or walked in on a family member watching porn.

We all do it. We’re all failures.

In my extensive experience with failure I can attest to the fact that I’ve learned more from missed job opportunities, blown off dates, and the time I stuck my tongue to a pole than any time I actually got what I wanted.

The funny thing?

In the end I usually get what I wanted anyways– my failures just acted as a primer to ensure I was actually ready for it when it came.

This is true of every job, travel opportunity, investment, or moronic boy I’ve brought home to my parents.

Failure was always a predecessor and sometimes even an outcome.

But why do we do this? Often times people form a relationship between their self-worth and their fuck ups, as if someone will one day look at them and say “Oh her? No, she’s not worthy of love or respect because one time I saw her eat absolute shit up the stairs at the bar”.

Hypothetically, of course.

In the same breath, we also attach our self-worth to our wins, as if our degrees, raises, conquered peaks and marathons make or break us as humans.

They don’t.

Pretty much (1) don’t be a dick and (2) always continue evolving and you should be just fine.

I’m much more interested in hearing about what you took away from the time you unsuccessfully tried parkour than how you made a perfect soufflé at Christmas last year.

I’ve seen Gordon Ramsay do it a million times.

I’m much more proud of the scars I have from Wildfire (which I was savagely cut from), my most recent failed relationship (which I was savagely cut from), and quitting my job in a toxic environment (which, against labour law, I was also savagely cut from) than I am my GPA, Credit Score, or the time I made out with multiple members of the same friend group at Ranchman’s without any of them catching on.

Ok maybe I’m a little proud. That’s not the point.

The point is this: your failures grow you in ways that your successes can’t.

Own it. Talk about it. Figure out how to do it right the second time and prove to yourself that you run this shit – it doesn’t run you.