“You can fail, and not be a failure.” – Mikaela Shiffrin, Olympic skier
Do you ever feel like you’ve failed? I do.
It can be as small as forgetting the cat’s meds, or as visible as saying something confusing on a call. Though I’m a generally positive person, the negative self talk still shows up.
In fact, the first article I wrote, in 2021, was about redefining failure by naming it “little f-failures” – life events you pivot and learn from. Writing it was an effort to grapple with a difficult concept and come to some peace about how it shows up in my life.
But recently, through a book, and a little ChatGTP deep research, I’ve been looking at the whole idea of failure differently.
It started by reading Kyra Bobinet’s the “Unstoppable Brain” which explores how we are neurologically wired to respond to perceived failure, and what we can do about it.
From there, I got curious about the word “failure” itself.
I mused, how did cavemen (cavepeople?) feel about failure? If they didn’t bring down the mastodon for dinner, did they feel worthless? Or did they just go hungry and try again the next day, without all the extra suffering of blaming themselves?
What I learned, surprisingly, was that prior to the 1800’s, the words “fail” and “failure” were only used to refer to objective outcomes, like a crop failure or a bank failure.
But at some point in 19th century America, the use of the word shifted.
Failure began to be assigned to people. “He is a failure.”
Why is this important?
Labelling someone a failure is a social stigma.
It’s a harsh self judgement.
It stops us from trying new things or continuing when the going gets tough.
And it suggests a permanent, unchangeable state of being.
I suspect many of us who come from achievement-driven environments are familiar with the identity-based meaning of failure. When something goes wrong, it’s not just an outcome – it can be a statement about who we are.
But there’s another way to view failing that is far more workable.
If failure is just a gap between the expected and the actual, then it becomes something we can engage with.
Michael Jordan famously said, “I’ve failed over and over again and that is why I succeed.” (1997 Nike ad). I don’t believe he meant he thought he was a failure. He was describing attempts that didn’t work, and iterations that helped him improve.
Seen this way, failing isn’t a verdict on our self-worth. It’s part of the process of getting better. That’s the distinction I’m trying to internalize.
Here are some ways I’m practicing redefining failing that you can try too:
1. Separate identity from outcome.
- “This didn’t work” is usable information. “I am a failure” is a dead end.
2. Treat attempts as experiments.
- Most of the important things we do happen over and over again, giving us the chance to practice, not just perform.
3. Notice the language.
- The nervous system reacts differently to “I failed” than to “That attempt failed.”
You can fail. You can even fail repeatedly.
But being a failure? That might be the only thing that isn’t real.
