Breaking the Pedestal: Reframing Failures as Opportunities for Growth

As far back as I can remember, I was afraid to fail. I’m certain that many people share this sentiment and maybe even some of the experience that comes with it. Recently, as a result of my intention to move through my fear of failing, I’ve been exploring what it really means (to me) to fail. In my opinion, the only true failure is to refuse to recognize areas for optimization, or to be unable to grow from the learnings of past experiences. And even then, who am I to say that it’s a failure? The perceived inability to grow from the learnings of past experiences is pretty subjective and borders on being critical. I had to go back to the beginning of my life to begin understanding my own perception and judgement of failure. I'm choosing to share it now in case it helps others to understand and learn from their own perceptions of failure and judgment.

Perceptions Create Narratives

I was always told that I was smart as a child, and I realized that what adults perceived in me as smart, was actually EQ rather than IQ. I was always excited to read, learn, and know more, and I was also rewarded by many adults for explaining and or implementing what I learned. But my “intelligence” was actually an early development of empathy and emotional intelligence that surpassed my peers. Maybe this is because even though I was born in 1996, my parents were very careful not to allow me to watch a lot of TV, and video games were an absolute no-no for a long time. I was always encouraged to read or play outside and I believe this helped me develop a more advanced sense of awareness of the souls around me, be it a squirrel in the backyard, my family members, or my peers at school.

The problem with this narrative of “you’re so smart!” was that as I grew older and went on to high school, college, and then made my first career move, I always felt incredibly tied to how people perceived my work. And now, at age 27, I’ve noticed so many times wherein I wouldn’t try something, simply because I was afraid I might fail. The interesting thing about this is that I myself, never believed in failure. I knew logically that it didn’t make sense, because I’ve learned and grown from every choice in my life, every event, every success and every re-route.

Where Does Fear of Failure Come From?

I recently spent some intentional time alone meditating and thinking about this topic. In this exercise, I stripped away the opinions of those I respected. As a result, I learned that underneath it all, I never cared if I failed a test; I cared that I either did or didn't understand a topic. In my mind, if I understood, I was smart. If I didn’t understand right away, “You're so smart!” was challenged and I doubted the truth of it. Sometimes, I felt guilty that maybe I didn’t study “hard enough” to get a grade that would be praised by my teachers and parents. When I was put on a pedestal as a child for my perceived intellect, it set the bar HIGH at a very young age. I was rewarded for being smart, and I was punished when I didn’t perform. So of course, I learned that I had to keep being smart to be or feel loved. I began to place my value in numbers and work ethic.

What I thought was a fear of failure my whole life turned out to actually be a fear of rejection. I personally do not give a flying f**k about that math test I failed in fourth grade. The number shouldn't have mattered much then, and it surely doesn’t matter now. What impacted me so intensely was how I felt in the aftermath of getting that grade. I felt the pressure to not disappoint my parents, who had worked so hard to give me a great life. I felt the pressure to live up to my own reputation, I felt the pressure to be perfect because I didn’t want to feel the intensity of the disappointment my parents would have if they perceived that I failed. It felt as if my failure was actually their failure. But it wasn't theirs, and it wasn't a failure. It was simply an indication of where I could find opportunities for growth and improvement.

The Danger of the Pedestal

Putting people on pedestals is a losing game. It’s not real. We put people above us because we perceive that they are better in some way. But the truth is, we’re all human, and no one is perfect. When the person on the pedestal of your creation inevitably makes a mistake, the disappointment felt on both sides can be jarring. It’s not fair to yourself, nor is it fair to the person you’ve appointed to this pedestal (often without their knowledge of the expectations that come with it).

Pedestals = expectations, and expectations = disappointment.

Let's do each other the favor of taking people off pedestals. It’s okay to have standards, and we need to distinguish properly between a standard and a lofty expectation. We need to give ourselves and others the benefit of the doubt, while also using discernment to know what’s best for us in our relationships and interactions. Events such as failing a test, a job layoff, a lack of direction, etc. don’t change who the person is at their core. Of course, there are levels to this and it can be argued that how you do one thing is usually how you do everything. But I live in the grey area. For me, when it comes to people and relationships, most things are never true 100% of the time.

So, go ahead and take your people off those pedestals.

Celebrate them for who they are, not how they perform. Support them for who they are, not what they’ve done for you or might do for you in the future. Love them for who they are, not for how well they meet your expectations.

We are all the same. We are the universe experiencing itself through different lenses of perception and awareness.

We have the opportunity to start acting like it. Who’s with me?