Failure: It's Important

JENN McKINLAY: As we step into the new year and plan our next goals and adventures, I want to remember why not achieving those goals and plans can be equally important. 

Failure matters. Yes, we all know it’s like zucchini or doing push-ups, good for you but not very yummy or fun. I don’t care what recipe is supposed to make zucchini taste better. Bleck! And I hate push-ups! Still, I eat zucchini and I do push-ups and I fail. I’m pretty good at all three, but I excel at failure because it’s important. Yes, even more important than zucchini or push-ups and apparently it’s genetic.

Way back when he was in elementary school, one of my hooligans came home from an event in which he had competed. During the testing, his mind had done that lovely panic thing where it goes blank and there is no muscle memory or any memory to draw from. He did the best he could but feared failure was looming. It was particularly painful because he had studied and practiced extra hard.

Hub and I knew it had gone horribly wrong when he went straight to his room and shut the door, requesting to be left alone. My mama antennae went berserk and it was all I could do to honor his request. Okay, yes, the Hub did sit on me for a bit but finally when we agreed he’d had enough time to process, I went to check on him.

I was allowed in. No small feat since we'd entered the tween years and zombie and superhero posters glared at me, warning me away from his adolescent sanctuary. I found my hooligan supine on his bed, staring at his ceiling. I reclined next to him and stared at the ceiling, too. I asked if he wanted to talk about it and he said no.

Clearly, he was willing to have company in his misery but not conversation, at least not direct conversation. Of course, this was a huge problem for me because I like to verbally analyze data pretty much until my equipment gives out. 

Finally, I cracked and said, “You know what I wish for you?”

“That I don’t fail,” he mumbled. He made it sound as if I were wishing for the impossible like the ability to become invisible or fly.

“No,” I said. “Actually, I want you to fail.” He gasped and I continued, “I also want you to have your heart broken and to know real poverty.”

The boy turned and gave me the hairy eyeball. “You know that’s not normal, right? I’m pretty sure normal parents don’t wish that for their kids.”

I shrugged. “How will you ever value money if you never know the lack of it? How will you ever appreciate true love if you never feel its loss? How will you know what you’re made of if you never fail?”

He was quiet for a moment and then asked, “How poor?”

“Pretty poor,” I said. “Like cashing in your change jar for groceries poor.”

“Were you ever that poor?”

“Daddy and I bought our first Christmas tree out of our change jar,” I said. “Best tree ever.”

We contemplated the ceiling some more.

“I still say other parents don’t say these things to their kids,” he said.

“Maybe,” I agreed. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“Work harder, practice more, test again,” he said.

“Not quitting, huh?” I asked.

“How will I know what I’m made of if I quit?” he asked. Then he grinned. 

As it turned out, he didn't fail but he was mentally prepared if he did and later in life when he actually did fail - quite spectacularly - he was ready.

See? Failure is important. 

When I was six, I wanted to be a singer. I would sing and sing and sing, dreaming of the day I was filling stadiums with clamoring fans. I was in a variety of choirs all through school, but it soon became apparent that I was good but not great. It was a heart wrenching fail and I quit. 

When I went to college I decided to be an artist. I doodled a lot but really did not have an original thought in my head. It was another personal fail and I quit again. 

Then, I latched onto writing. I failed at it for a solid eight years, but it was the one passion I refused to quit. Somehow I knew deep down that this was what I was supposed to do. By trudging forth amid a wasteland of rejection, I did figure out what I was made of – pretty tough stuff and a whole lot of stories. I’m just beginning to think I’m okay at this wordsmithing thing, but I have a long way to go to really master my craft and I am absolutely fine with that. 

How about you, Reds and Readers, what failures have you overcome? What did you learn from it?