Michael Jordan has said, “I’ve missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I’ve lost over 300 games. 26 times I’ve been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again. And that’s why I succeed.”
As inspiring as this quote is, Jordan’s words and experience don’t quite bring the comfort I need when the reality and pain of my own failure hits home. We can talk grandiosely about failure being a great teacher, learning from our mistakes, and “failing forward” but the sucker punch feeling in the pit of my stomach when I have failed makes it difficult to take these sentiments to heart at first.
Failure was not an option for me growing up. Not because I had exacting parents but because I simply would not allow it of myself. I was usually top of my class and excelled in various sports, public speaking and headed up the student leadership group both at primary school and high school.
People told me how intelligent and talented I was but in truth I didn’t believe them, or at least I didn’t let on what I believed was the real reason for my success. I was afraid. Afraid I wouldn’t know what was in the test, afraid of not passing, afraid of letting my parents and family down, especially the more I did well. So I worked hard and long, learnt everything and learnt it well. And at school this is a great strategy for success and earns you accolades.
But life is not school. It is more unpredictable and nuanced. People, situations and events influence and direct outcomes in a greater variety of ways. You have less control and hard work alone cannot make you successful.
So I failed. I failed to manage the demands I was putting on myself and experienced burnout. I spent two years working in a networking marketing company and as passionate and “hard-working” as I was, I could not make what seemed to be working for so many others, work for me. I endured endless rounds of rejection from potential customers. I never quite seemed to get myself off an existence salary, and in fact sometimes cost us more than I earned. I was told I would never train above junior level people.
With these failures I felt physical pain, spent many nights tossing and turning, fretting and re-visiting what I should have done and still needed to do. At times I felt crushed and often very alone.
Am I using this article as a wailing wall, to confess my failures, hoping for some sympathy and reassuring comfort that it will all be ok? No! So often we don’t dwell on the pain and ugliness of failure because we want to skip to the “lesson” and the “success”. But I want to acknowledge that failure is a very tough battle field, certainly in my experience.
But battle fields are where we are honed and taught and toughened. I can therefore, say unequivocally that failure has indeed been my greatest teacher.
I have learnt to be more humble. Ego does not survive rounds of failure! This has made me more open to learn, more empathetic and more attentive.
Failure has taught me courage. As afraid as I have been I have learnt that it does not define me and that when I do step through and over difficult situations I can accomplish more than I realized.
My skin is a bit tougher. I don’t take things so personally, so to heart, and so I can push through to a greater understanding of the person and the situation.
I’ve learnt the strength of simply hanging in there. That perseverance is a valuable ally and one that I rely on often.
So I find myself today the owner and part owner of several successful and growing businesses. I have a strong and impressive client base. I have worked with many executive-level teams. My work is fulfilling and I enjoy the team of people I work with. I am close with my husband of over thirty years and our two adult children. This year we celebrated my husband’s 60th birthday in Zanzibar. Life is good.
Does this mean I’ve “made it”? That I’ve now learnt my lessons and don’t expect to fail again? I wish! No I don’t think this. But I do feel I am better prepared, a little wiser and more resilient to take on the next battle.
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