If at first you don’t succeed, fail, fail again.
Self-defeating thoughts can have a field day in your head. When faced with a challenging task, it’s hard not to entertain the possibility of failure. The two seem inseparable. “What if i fail?” you ask yourself. The answer to that question involves a deeper understanding as to what failure means to you and how you define it. If you don’t control it, failure has the power to manifest itself in just about everything.
It’s on the “submit” button to apply for the job of your dreams.
It’s in the gooey center of the under-cooked cupcakes you made for friends.
It’s the spot just outside the line that awarded a point to the other team.
Failure can be found everywhere and in anything, if you choose to see it that way. I’ve been wrestling with what failure means to me ever since I committed myself to beach volleyball, the reason I drove across the country last summer to start a new life in L.A. I flew to where many have flocked before me to pursue a dream. Mine was to become a professional beach volleyball player. Earning professional status means winning professional tournaments--or consistently placing in the top ten--and scoring a sponsor, goals I have yet to reach. Though my friends who played sports in high school and at the college level have all moved on to a livelihood that more or less puts them in a business suit, I’ve chosen to opt for a swimsuit instead. Beach volleyball remains my number one passion in my twenty-three years of living, but that passion has been saturated with doubt. Like a flickering candle, so too was my conviction about pursuing this non-traditional dream. I would describe my first season as a fighter jet spiraling downwards uncontrollably. What I endured was months of feeling like a failure, the word L-O-S-E-R seemingly tattooed on my forehead. And it was all because I internalized everything around me and twisted it into self-defeating mantras that I couldn’t shake.
Though just shy of 5’11’, a gift from mother nature by most standards, failure ripped that gift from my hands. I lost inches. I felt small. And the worst part was that for some time I wanted to be small. If I made myself small, nobody would notice whether I succeeded or not. I shied away from competition, from practice, from playing just for fun. I vividly remember a morning in bed before a scheduled session, hoping that one of the other three girls would cancel so that I could stay under the covers and avoid feeling worse about myself by making mistakes. I was like a dog being pulled by the collar to go sleep outside for the night. Out on the court, I became incapable of seeing the faults in others; I was always the one to blame. Even on the cloudiest days, my sunglasses would stay on to shield the tears in my eyes. I was as broken as an athlete could be. And I put it on myself.
Feeling like a failure forced me to create a new definition of failure and examine what it’s role would be in my life. Over time, I started championing myself. I was “failing” so often that I grew proud of each attempt and rebuilt my confidence one try after another. I realized that failure was taking me out of the game so I started putting up a fight against my negative thoughts and began to see how well I was playing. It was during a morning session in early November when I literally felt the physical and psychological switch turn from “off” to “on”. I was swinging at balls. I wasn’t afraid of my opponents. I was smiling, for God’s sake.
Failure can be scary, yes, but it is present. It is real. And it is here to stay. It is my understanding that you can choose to live in a world in which failure exists and crushes you or a world in which failure exists but does not cause you to turn and run the other way.
Like a boomerang, the question appears again and again: What if i fail? What if i never set foot on center court of a professional championship match? What if, years from now, people remember me as being a good player, but not a great one?
My sister has always reminded me that by not trying I’ve already failed. I filed this advice in the category of trite. Corny. In the same family as, “If you fall off the horse, get back on”. But it’s true. Failure is not trying. So, What if I fail? Do you know what frightens me more? What if I don’t try? That’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Whatever your passion in life, whatever you are pouring your heart into right now, don’t take yourself out of the game. Some people prefer cupcakes that are gooey in the center anyways.
Self-defeating thoughts can have a field day in your head. When faced with a challenging task, it’s hard not to entertain the possibility of failure. The two seem inseparable. “What if i fail?” you ask yourself. The answer to that question involves a deeper understanding as to what failure means to you and how you define it. If you don’t control it, failure has the power to manifest itself in just about everything.
It’s on the “submit” button to apply for the job of your dreams.
It’s in the gooey center of the under-cooked cupcakes you made for friends.
It’s the spot just outside the line that awarded a point to the other team.
Failure can be found everywhere and in anything, if you choose to see it that way. I’ve been wrestling with what failure means to me ever since I committed myself to beach volleyball, the reason I drove across the country last summer to start a new life in L.A. I flew to where many have flocked before me to pursue a dream. Mine was to become a professional beach volleyball player. Earning professional status means winning professional tournaments--or consistently placing in the top ten--and scoring a sponsor, goals I have yet to reach. Though my friends who played sports in high school and at the college level have all moved on to a livelihood that more or less puts them in a business suit, I’ve chosen to opt for a swimsuit instead. Beach volleyball remains my number one passion in my twenty-three years of living, but that passion has been saturated with doubt. Like a flickering candle, so too was my conviction about pursuing this non-traditional dream. I would describe my first season as a fighter jet spiraling downwards uncontrollably. What I endured was months of feeling like a failure, the word L-O-S-E-R seemingly tattooed on my forehead. And it was all because I internalized everything around me and twisted it into self-defeating mantras that I couldn’t shake.
Though just shy of 5’11’, a gift from mother nature by most standards, failure ripped that gift from my hands. I lost inches. I felt small. And the worst part was that for some time I wanted to be small. If I made myself small, nobody would notice whether I succeeded or not. I shied away from competition, from practice, from playing just for fun. I vividly remember a morning in bed before a scheduled session, hoping that one of the other three girls would cancel so that I could stay under the covers and avoid feeling worse about myself by making mistakes. I was like a dog being pulled by the collar to go sleep outside for the night. Out on the court, I became incapable of seeing the faults in others; I was always the one to blame. Even on the cloudiest days, my sunglasses would stay on to shield the tears in my eyes. I was as broken as an athlete could be. And I put it on myself.
Feeling like a failure forced me to create a new definition of failure and examine what it’s role would be in my life. Over time, I started championing myself. I was “failing” so often that I grew proud of each attempt and rebuilt my confidence one try after another. I realized that failure was taking me out of the game so I started putting up a fight against my negative thoughts and began to see how well I was playing. It was during a morning session in early November when I literally felt the physical and psychological switch turn from “off” to “on”. I was swinging at balls. I wasn’t afraid of my opponents. I was smiling, for God’s sake.
Failure can be scary, yes, but it is present. It is real. And it is here to stay. It is my understanding that you can choose to live in a world in which failure exists and crushes you or a world in which failure exists but does not cause you to turn and run the other way.
Like a boomerang, the question appears again and again: What if i fail? What if i never set foot on center court of a professional championship match? What if, years from now, people remember me as being a good player, but not a great one?
My sister has always reminded me that by not trying I’ve already failed. I filed this advice in the category of trite. Corny. In the same family as, “If you fall off the horse, get back on”. But it’s true. Failure is not trying. So, What if I fail? Do you know what frightens me more? What if I don’t try? That’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Whatever your passion in life, whatever you are pouring your heart into right now, don’t take yourself out of the game. Some people prefer cupcakes that are gooey in the center anyways.
super inspring and totally true. plus, failure makes for better stories. i mean how annoying is that one person at a party talking about how great they are? ugh...gag. i'd much rather talk to the dude who failed to start a company.
ReplyDeleteyou are right KC, nothing turns me off more than meeting someone at a social gathering and having to listen to them go on and on about their recent mind-blowing, self-actualizing accomplishment. i don't know how that makes me sound exactly but whatever, it's true.
ReplyDelete