Loving Your Failure
- Joshua Rumple
- Jul 28, 2020
- 4 min read
Why are we so afraid of failure?
The fear of it plagues us, paralyzes us, like some insidious danger, threatening to destroy us. Our past failures haunt us, and the fear of failing again stops us from living fully alive here and now.
We see our failures as something shameful, to be hidden or avoided at all costs, and for what – to desperately display an image of success, of perfection that none of us are truly capable of?
None of us are perfect. All of us fail.
Failure is inevitable, but it does not have to be shameful. Perhaps we can learn to love it just as much as our successes – maybe even more.
For two years, Rachel and I were in the process of trying to live in Ireland. In June of 2018, I applied for a job and was in Ireland four months later for an interview. They offered, and I accepted. It was truly a dream come true, and we were thrilled by the notion of living in a place we had long loved, working in a job that felt right.
Everything about it was perfect – until it wasn’t.
Immigrating is hard. My employers and I worked diligently to put everything in line, checking laws, going through paperwork, and reviewing everything. We were in constant contact to help me successfully immigrate. Despite working through all the details for about a year, the government still denied my application.
Then they denied our appeal.
Then we brainstormed about trying a different path.
Unfortunately, there was no clear path forward for me, and my employers had to move on. Immigrating successfully was going to take longer than any of us had the time for.
We failed.
We kept a small glimmer of hope alive for moving to Ireland under a different immigration status, but then COVID hit.
In June of 2020, we decided to stop our efforts to immigrate. Two years of dreaming, of planning, and of striving ended in us giving up.
Everyone tried their best and cared so much, but we all failed in trying to get Rachel and I to successfully immigrate. Despite our best efforts, we failed.
And failing is never fun.
People paid attention to our story for much of that journey and were rooting hard for us to make it. When we finally called it quits, many offered their sympathies.
We told friends and family that we had failed in what we tried to do as we told our story. Understandably, everyone we told us that we had not failed, that it was simply a variety of circumstances that held us back. They really wanted us to know that we were not failures.
It never sat well with me.
I understand the impulse to try and comfort us, but saying that we did not fail was a lie. We did fail. We tried something, and it did not work. It did not happen.
We failed, and no kind, well-intentioned words anyone can say will change that.
People are uncomfortable around suffering, and Rachel and I carried (and still carry) grief over this failure. We have suffered on this almost two-year journey, and friends, understandably, do not want us to suffer. So, they have comforted us, and it has been more than welcome.
But comforting us should not require a denial of reality. Please, do not tell us that we did not fail.
Accept that we failed and that our failure is not something to be ashamed of.
Honestly, I think our failure should be something to love.
We learn life’s lessons most intimately amidst failure.
Think back on when you have grown and learned the most. I would wager a guess that many of those moments were moments of sadness, of failure, of disappointment.
I would not be the person I am today without the times when I have messed up. When I have been unkind, unthoughtful, and unloving, I learn how to be more kind, thoughtful, and loving. When I make mistakes, I have learned how to correct them. When I have tried something and failed, I learn deep lessons about myself.
Failing to immigrate taught me lessons and humility and contentment. It taught me that I am ultimately not in control. It taught me that I can still experience joy even when my experiences are clouded in disappointment.
Failure has taught me way more than any of my successes.
Failure has shaped me into who I am today, and I love who I am today.
Do I want to fail? Of course not. It is painful, but it is in that pain that I have learned some of my greatest lessons.
Nor do I want you to fail.
But failure is inevitable, so we have to learn how to embrace it.
Holding tightly onto some dream of success will only make the pain of failure more acute. Denying the reality of failure likewise robs us of the joy of failure.
Finding joy amidst failure will always be challenging, but it is a journey I believe we all should strive for.
I am not ashamed of my failures for they have made me who I am.
And I am not uncomfortable around your failures, for they are part of what makes you human, what makes you, you.
Our failures are not something to be ashamed of. We should not be afraid of failure, paralyzed by its possibility, its inevitability.
Perhaps we can even learn to love it, to glean from it whatever lesson it has to offer.
I’ll leave you with a quote from Fred Rogers (you know, Mr. Rogers) that I think fits well here.
“People have said, ‘Don’t cry’ to other people for years and years, and all it has ever meant is, ‘I’m too uncomfortable when you show your feelings. Don’t cry.’ I’d rather have them say, ‘Go ahead and cry. I’m here to be with you.’”
Grace and peace, my friends.
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