Redefining Failure: Leaning into Curiosity
How do you define failure?
I’ve been asking myself that question a lot recently. There’s this deep-rooted lie that’s been winding its way into my internalized beliefs since I was a kid, convincing me that if I fail at something (i.e. don’t perform at the level I or others expect), I myself am a failure. The lie tells me that trying isn’t worth the risk. That if I fail (and am a failure) I’m not lovable, so it’s better to stick to what I know. Because by sticking to the familiar, to my safety net of control, I can get the belonging and security I want. Control, after all, is the false but convincing story that makes us believe we are safe.
Listening to this lie taught me to fear trying new things. It feels silly to admit, but I am terrified of putting myself in the position of a learner and feeling like I don’t know what I’m doing. Like, if I’m around other people and I don’t know something I feel like I should, my heart starts pounding because of embarrassment and shame. While this reaction feels ridiculous to me, it actually makes sense. Our brains are constantly on the lookout for ways to stay safe, both physically and emotionally. My physical reaction (pounding heart) is the manifestation of an emotional state of feeling unsafe or insecure.
Growing up, situations and relationships taught me that the surest way to belong was to accumulate accomplishments. When I did well in something (school, music, art, whatever) I got positive reinforcements from friends and family. Good grades secured positive attention from my parents; successful piano recitals led to my teacher’s approval; being decent at basketball got me approval from my classmates. Success begat belonging.
When our childhood is filled with these lived experiences that correlate success (i.e. doing well at something by my or others’ standards) with love and belonging, of course we develop a fear of failure! Of course we avoid unknowns and feeling unsure.
But I want to change that. I want to redefine failure for myself. I want to be able to put myself in situations where I have to ask questions and get curious.
I heard someone say on a podcast recently that as we get older we either become more certain or more curious.
I literally had to pause the podcast to take in that line. We either become more certain or more curious.
And then I got mad because I felt called out and seen and vulnerable. Because my life so far has been a collection of as many certainties as I could get my hands on. But when failure isn’t an option, neither is curiosity.
Being curious means intentionally admitting that you don’t know. That I don’t know. That I don’t have all the answers or am not certain about the ones I think I might have.
As I sat with that quote and the discomfort it brought, I began re-evaluating my definition of failure. This redefining failure has been a journey years in the making, but I’ve generally thought of failure as inadequate, less-than, imperfect performance. If I don’t teach the right way – failure. If I don’t say the right thing – failure. If who I am isn’t what or how I think I should be – failure.
If that resonates with you, you know how exhausting this echo chamber of not enough, not enough, not enough can be. That’s the lie we ultimately believe when we don’t allow space for failure or imperfections in our lives. We believe that who we are at our core is not enough.
I for one am done believing that.
My invitation for you today is to join me, to move away from the lies and towards the lighter truth – that you are, in fact, enough, and you are, in truth, allowed to fail.
Here’s my current updated, working definition of failure: a moment of imperfection that becomes an opportunity for curiosity and learning.
A moment of imperfection that becomes an opportunity for curiosity and learning.
What if we took our imperfections and got curious? What if we approached ourselves, others, and the world around us with wonder and marvel? How would our understanding of ourselves, others, and the world change? What new ideas, experiences, relationships would we feel free to explore?
I believe that the shift could be life changing.
When we get curious, we create so much more space for diversity, for growth, for humanity. When we get curious we cultivate life in and around us. Honest, kind, curious questions are like a breath of fresh air, breathing life into stale thought-patterns and creating new paths out of old ruts.
How can you nurture curiosity in your life? How can you redefine failure for yourself?
I find myself finishing this post feeling like unsure. I’m honestly not sure if what I’ve written is worth sharing and it doesn’t feel perfected. But I’m choosing to believe that it’s enough. My words are honest and earnest, my questions are for me as much as they are for you. And so even though I’m afraid of failure, of not showing up the way I or others might expect of me, I’m still here.
May we show up and keep showing up, curious and kind, imperfect and flawed, but here all the same.
