Fear of Failure, Success, and Perseverance

What is the key to success?

Photo by Gerd Altmann on Pexels.com

I’ve spent a lot my life honing my skill at flying under the radar, of going unnoticed, blending in. I was the teenage girl with the long bangs hanging in front of my face, hiding. I was the girl on the bus with my nose in a book while the social dramas raged on around me. I’ve been the wallflower by choice, afraid to join in the game. Until lately.

The name of my blog reflects my challenge. Views from around the corner is where I began this journey and was meant to highlight this apartness. It’s a safe space, but it’s an empty one. Nothing is required of you when you are the onlooker from a distance. Nobody notices you. And that’s always been okay with me.

But I’ve gained a little courage. I’ve put myself out there. It was so hard at first. People who operate in the normal realm have no idea what it is for someone who suffers from intense anxiety and fear of failure to take this step. I’ve written before about the nerves that came with publishing that first blog post. I’m talking stomach in knots anxiety. Hot flushed face, trembling hands anxiety. I had to walk away numerous times. Did I really want to do this? Finger hovering over the enter key for what seemed like eons. Walk away again. Ask myself again. Then finally, just taking the plunge and walking away with a feeling of horror at what I’d just done. Oh, the mental anguish! And this all from the comfort of my own home!

But do you know what? It got easier. Each time I did it I felt the same fear, but the amount was diminished. And I liked what I was doing. I was writing, something I’d always felt a passion for, but never shared with anyone. I got feedback, mostly good, but some of it with a critical eye. This was hard, but when I removed my ego from the equation, I could see that it was necessary for growth.

Trying became fun. I wrote about the world. I tried fiction. I honed my poetry skills. I interacted with other writers, reading and engaging with their own thoughts and reveling in their wordcraft.

I put my photography out there. (It’s my other passion.) I inquired at the local gallery, and they accepted my art. It’s been hanging in there for 2 years now, and I’ve become an integral part of a great group of local artists, managing the social media accounts and website presence. It’s a co-op, so I work there. I still feel a knot in my stomach when people wander over to look at my photos. Will they like my art? Feedback has been important in feeling grounded. Imposter syndrome is real. I went from feeling embarrassed when talking to people about my photos to being excited when telling them how that one picture ended up important enough to me to be mounted on the wall. This usually related to the quality of the light or the ambiance of the moment/location. It’s become a shared experience more than an offering on a pedestal of judgement. I do still feel humbled when people walk to the register with something of mine. I probably always will.

There are always chances to try new things. Sometimes we try and find we want to give up. Is that okay? Maybe. Depends on if you’re giving up out of fear or disinterest. I’ve found that perseverance comes with caring about what I’m doing. If it’s important to me, I keep going. Some things are going to fall flat. It happens to everyone. Thankfully, I’m at the point I can mostly just shrug and move on. Every failure is a step toward success, and every success beats back the fear of failure. How will we know if we don’t try?

Are you struggling with putting yourself out there like I did? I encourage you to take that first step. What are the things you’re passionate about? You’ll never know success if you’re not in the game.

What are you waiting for?

What Would You Do If You Were Not Afraid?

This is my mantra.

I’ve not always been a particularly fearful person. I climbed trees as a kid. I hike alone. I frequently travel by myself. I don’t avoid airplanes. I talk to strangers and approach dogs.

Yet when it comes to opening myself up, I’m a coward. I’ve been that way most of my life. One of my ten defining moments (thank you, Dr. Phil) was in a middle school class called “Creativity” when my teacher Mrs. Marshall wanted to hang my poem on the gallery wall. I was proud of that poem. It came from my heart. But because it came from my heart, my heart would be pinned up on that wall, exposed to all.

I said no.

I’ve always wondered if the trajectory of my life would have been different had I said yes. It’s an easy thing to say no. It’s safe. Nobody can hurt what they don’t know is there. But what if I had said yes? What if my poem being on display would have resulted in support and true praise. Would I have been inspired to keep creating for others, instead of just for myself?

I’ve written before about my first blog post, how my finger hovered over that enter key for what seemed like hours. My stomach did flip-flops. I knew I would feel exposed, all my tender parts wide open to the predators. But that’s not what happened. People were supportive and encouraging. I became a part of communities. And gradually I built confidence.

My battle with fear began after a battle with cancer. There’s nothing like facing your own mortality to help you reevaluate your life and choices. That’s when I took on the mantra, “what would you do if you were not afraid?” And I started doing those things. I went back to school and became a teacher. I took on my first class. I spoke up at meetings. I created a blog. And life became deeper and richer. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy my life of being a mom to my kids. I’d just been doing it from a blind, a bunker, looking out and staying hidden.

To this day, my kids know me best. It took a lot for me to open up to my adult friends. It took a long time for me to participate in book club conversation. (I wear anxiety like I’m holding a squirmy toddler.) But every time I did it, every time I let myself feel the flip-flopping of my stomach and the hot flush of embarrassment, it got a little better. Brick by painful brick, I built my confidence.

I still battle fears. I don’t like opening myself up to being judged. That’s my kryptonite. But I find joy in my journey and where I am now on my life’s path. I have a blog. I have my art in a gallery. I have art online. I still hope to write a book.

Good things are out there.

What would you do if you were not afraid?


If you are interested in checking out any of my photography or art designs, you can find me on Fine Art America, Redbubble, and Zazzle. Thanks for stopping by!

Do Not Fear Failure


Tomasz Stasiuk / Foter / CC BY-SA

Failure.

It starts like the first twinges in the stomach when you know you are going to be sick. Not just pop some pills and go to work sick, but running to the bathroom can’t keep anything down sick.

It’s not an option, you say. Okay, you grant me that it’s an option, but it’s the option that comes from giving up, you say. Wait, I say. What about the times you try your hardest, you put yourself into the fight, you get beat up, and you lose… Is that failure?

You see, you can try and fail. People do it all the time. One partner in a relationship can try and try to make it work, but if both people are not invested, all of that trying will not result in success. You may look into the eyes of your baby, read to him, go to all of his basketball games, but if he is swayed by that one wrong friend, he may end up on a self-destructive path, one for which you may feel responsible. You may have a chance at the job of your dreams, only to have your efforts crushed by a vindictive boss and the betrayal of presumably trustworthy coworkers.

Failure is a bitter pill, a large, hard-to-swallow, pill. It can leave you feeling helpless. Or angry. Or despondent.

Which brings me to a favorite quote of mine.

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” Teddy Roosevelt

Isn’t a lot of the fear of failure tied up in what others will think of us? After all, so much of life is trying, failing, then trying again and again until we succeed. Walking. Talking. Learning a new language. Learning a sport. If our parents had made fun of us instead of encouraging us to keep trying, they would have created little humans who were anxious and apprehensive, maybe even neurotic. Instead, they realized that we were trying, that sometimes there would be flops, and that eventually we would get it. What if we approached each other the same way? Give people room to fail. Provide a safety net so the failure is not destructive. Wouldn’t our society be stronger, more cohesive?

Am I afraid of failing? Sure. Am I going to let it hold me back? Never. Life is for living, for learning, and for growing, and it’s too short to worry about failing.


In response to the Daily Post’s writing prompt,  “Must Not Fail.” What is the one thing at which you are the most afraid of failing?

I”m also using this for my Writing 101 day 7 assignment, Hook ’em with a quote. (Yes, I’m a little behind, and yes, I know it’s not at the beginning. But I set it as my excerpt. I’m counting it.)