Failures and Other Fine Fiascos

Flops are part of life’s menu and I’ve never been one to miss out on any of the courses.--Rosalind Russell
 
There is no getting around it, is there? Failure is a definite drag. It’s hard. It hurts. It isn’t an experience that we happily invite into our lives.
 
But there are a heckuva lot more failures in life than there are successes. There isn’t one of us who hasn’t flopped numerous times--some minor failures, many major. In these challenging times, this economic downturn, you may be living through what you consider failure right now.
 
But the value of any failure lies in what we do with it. If we deny it or diminish it, we can’t learn from it. When I flop (as I do, often!), I have to face it squarely and ask myself why I failed--and be willing to learn from the answer. Then I can take another try. Having had a couple of practice runs (failures provide some really stunning practice), my chances for success are much greater. From this point of view, failure is just a practice run at success, a necessary step toward a glory. A grace, in other words.
 
It doesn't matter how many talents and gifts we have, or how often we succeed. it’s a rare glory that isn’t graced with at last one failure--likely, more than one. I wonder how many times Ginger Rogers fell on her fanny, or Merrill Streep missed a director’s cue. And I don’t dare tell you how many rejection letters I received for my China Bayles mystery series before an astute editor at Scribner’s read the first book and liked it. 
 
So here is the bottom line, my dears. I’ve been telling you that it’s important for women to share our success stories. Now I’m telling you that it is much more important to share our failures. When we discover that our flops and fiascos look and sound a lot alike, we may discover that our lack of success isn’t an individual failure, but arises from something that is common to all of us: that it grows from our shared history as women, from our culture, and (perhaps especially) from male expectations of us.
 
Or maybe we learn that what we or others define as failure isn’t failure at all. That was what I discovered when I began to probe my reasons for abandoning my career as a university administrator and tenured professor--an abandonment that my colleagues viewed as either a failure of nerve or as stupendous stupidity. But when I began to collect the stories of other successful women who had left their careers, I discovered that we had not failed, but had redefined our ideas of success. My book, Work of Her Own, grew out of these conversations. The book is testimony to the importance of sharing what some might consider failure--and discovering that "failure" may be far more glorious than the little success we aimed for.
 
Which is why I’d like you to spend a few minutes writing about some of the flops in your life. Yes, I know. It’s embarrassing. Maybe it’s painful. Some fiascos are funny, but some may be almost too devastating to think about. But chin up, dears. Take heart, be brave, and write.

• Start by jotting down a half dozen of the failures you have experienced--the first ones that come to mind. Don't dig around for the best of the worst, just jot down the first that occur to you.
• Choose one. What flopped? What happened? When did it happen? Where? Who else was involved besides you?
• Why did it flop?
• What did you learn?
• Where did you go from there? (Hint: from the bottom, the only way out is up. Right?)

Mama exhorted her children at every opportunity to “jump at de sun.” We might not land on the sun, but at least we would get off the ground.--Zora Neale Hurston

Comments

[Susan J Tweit]

i've always thought my failures were my best teachers. When I was a child, I watched my mother teach herself how to ride a bike so that she could bike to her job as a school librarian. She took her bike to the alley just beyond our house, and got on it over and over again, falling, scraping her knees and palms, getting up and getting back on, until she could pedal away without fear. Did I mention that she was legally blind? And has never been able to see colors? (She sees in black and white and shades of gray.) She grew up in the hills of Berkeley, California, so never learned to ride a bike as a child, and never learned to drive, either, because of her vision. So when she wanted more independence at age 32, she taught herself how to ride a bike. Seeing her fall, clean out her cuts and scrapes, and get up again until she was confident in her riding was a powerful lesson for me. Failure is just another place on the road we take in life, and it can teach us so much!
Thanks for the reminder, Susan T

[Jinni Turkelson]

What a great story about your mother, Susan! It reminded me of my mother in law who, when widowed at age 56, decided she needed to learn to drive a car. She failed the test 7 times but kept trying until she passed.She raised 7 kids out in the boonies so not much daunted her.

The picture of the skier looks about like I did the first (and last) time I skiied. I decided my ability to walk was good enough!

I read Susan's book, A Work of Her Own, last year just after my 37 yr marriage fell apart. In a way, I was changing careers too and I found it inspiring that the women she interviewed had overcome more obstacles than I was facing and come out happier people. So can I.

[Susan Albert]

Love Susan T's story about her mom. Then there's my friend Karin, who took the bar exam three times before she passed it--and is now a cracker-jack lawyer.

Jinni, I'm so glad that Work of Her Own helped you. Stories ALWAYS help to show us what we can do. Let's all chant this together, one more time. YES WE CAN!

[Lee Ambrose]

Susan
As I mentioned in a post to another blog entry, I am waaaaay behind in reading the blog posts due to some very hectic weeks.
But, this is such a vital post that I couldn't pass up an opportunity to say thankyou for the wisdom that you imparted in the prompts for sharing/writing about failures.
Thankyou, Susan!
hugs, Lee

[Jennifer Hazard]

yes! I completly agree! Our mistakes and blunders teach us so much about ourselves! Especially (and maybe only) if we are willing to not take ourelves too seriously, and to hear real stories of other peoples struggles. In my blog I write about surviving Domestic Violence and Addiction and I try to emphasize that we are all a work in progress and in process.