Permission to Fail

In my last post, I wrote about the two drives in my life—to serve, and to create. I’ve realized it was my outlook on failure that kept them so separate, and kept one almost entirely hidden. The first, I believe, was largely formed by outside influences. That is not to say that I don’t have an innate drive to serve others—I definitely do—it has simply been the part of me that was more readily accepted, and shaped, by my environment. Growing up, I clung to that acceptance, perhaps because I felt like an outsider in every other way.

The creative within me has been fighting for her moment to be seen for over thirty years now. She has been fighting the part of me that rejected failure, but it is my failures that have brought me closer to who I am and to what God meant for my life

I’m not sure I would have realized this about myself without the pandemic, and without the crushing breakup I experienced at the beginning of it. That relationship brought so much beauty and depth into my life, but it stopped growing and became harmful for us both. For reasons we won’t get into here, we couldn’t be there for each other, and I thought, if I’m going to go through this alone, then I will be. That was the moment of clarity I needed. I ended things so we could each focus on ourselves, and I think that act was symbolic of something I needed my whole life. I suddenly had no one to live for but myself.

All noise was silenced—all expectations were farther away, and thus, mattered less. Life was stripped down to the raw essence of it and I was liberated. The silence was a blessing for which I am truly grateful.

I implore you to find that which is only yours, that which breathes life into you, and be selfish about it. I promise it will enrich you and those around you. Give yourself permission to fail. Only then can you take a risk, and risk is where the heart thrives.