I’ve been trying to think about failure recently.
I wonder if success is only what happens after a series of failures.
And of course, the world is not quite so black and white, but hear me out.
I failed to work well as an after-school counselor. That taught me I didn’t want to be a teacher after all.
I failed as a cashier at TJ Maxx. That taught me I didn’t like customer service as much as I thought I did.
I am currently failing at my job as a library assistant in a public library. It’s teaching me that I might need to consider another type of library with a different patron population.
Perhaps a sequence of failures is all it takes for you to reach a certain point in your life where failing becomes second nature.
This sounds demotivational, but for some reason, thinking about life like this is more reassuring.
With success, there’s a concept of perfection. You think about the end goal rather than where you’re at.
Maybe life is a series of failures, and you only can hope to fail better as time goes on.
If you set yourself up for failure, it seems better somehow.
There’s less pressure. You overcome your fear because failing is all you do.
But does that make you successful in the end?
I don’t know. I’m still failing to see what the end goal will be.
But perhaps that’s what makes life fascinating. You keep failing until you fail better.