PERCEIVED FAILURE

Have you ever stopped doing something and felt like a complete failure?

Asking for a friend, of course.

Missed a workout, detoured from that carefully crafted eating plan, took a break from that good habit you’ve worked so hard on?

In whatever shape or form, has ‘stopping’ or ‘not doing’ or ‘missing’ ever felt like a complete failure? 

Should it?

In early 2024 I set out to reestablish my writing habit and re-engage with a passion I held in the past. I knew I wouldn’t have time for well-crafted social media posts, SEO or analytics, I just wanted to write, regardless of how many or how few people read. 

I wanted to be disciplined, to commit to crafting a single blog each week, to be faithful with a skill and passion that matters to me alone, regardless of how many eyes joined in.

I did not miss a blog post for 60 straight weeks.

And then I missed a week. Correction, missed seven weeks.

It was early August and nearing the end of the last summer before we sent our first off to college. Time was squeezed tight, as it often is for parents with kids on summer break, and the seasonality of my occupation was wringing out any leftover unscheduled drops. 

I was falling behind on writing, still meeting my self-imposed weekly deadlines but cutting them close and feeling guilty that I couldn’t be more disciplined. As I sat on the couch one night trying to wrap my brain around reclaiming my rhythm, I glanced at my oldest son’s feet resting on the ottoman next to mine.

These feet would be gone in just weeks.

His presence would soon no longer be felt under my roof.

Goodbye was coming quick, no more daily hugs, no more heavy footsteps falling across my floor, no more crazy family conversations around the dinner table. 

There was time left to be had, time left to enjoy every moment together, time left to consciously stay present and cherish each hour. And yet I was letting that time collapse under the weight of perceived failure.

And so I stopped. Took a break. Missed seven straight weeks of writing.

Somehow the world continued.

I wish I could say I didn’t struggle with guilt, that the fact that I made a ‘decision’ was enough to remove any self-accusation, but I did and it wasn’t.

I still don’t have it all figured out.

But I'm learning that sometimes when we step aside, that’s not always the same as stepping away.  In one scenario our actions fail, in the other, we become the failure. 

Failing is not an identity, it’s an action.

Which means there’s a chance to start over again.