Anonymous wrote:I think I failed at my lifelong attempt to “fit in” with the people I wanted to fit in with.
I think it was a video clip of Chris Farley arriving for a David Letterman interview in this wildly frantic way, which made me also think of Robin Williams. Trying so hard to dance as fast as they could (literally) that they could never settle into their selves when among people.
I think I’m in that category. Always trying to play at normal, when I never was.
When Robin Williams ever did serious roles he became so visibly calm and centered, but also there were windows into a deep personal depression.
Anonymous wrote:So many things! My career is essentially a failure -- I have a job but the money I spent on a graduate degree and my early ambitions were totally for nothing. When I talk to friends from grad school and right after about work, I can see the bewilderment that I am where I am. But I just flamed out -- I wasn't good enough, didn't have the energy, and couldn't cut it. I feel fortunate to have a steady paycheck doing work that isn't physically taxing. I'm rounding on 50 and have to accept it's as far as I'm ever going to get in this career.
I have some ambition to maybe start a small business or pursue a second career in a less competitive field once my kid's college is taken care of and I can take that kind of risk.
I also had a huge social failure about 10 years ago I'm still recovering from. Not romantic -- I had a falling out with a friend and almost everyone in our mutual friend group took her side. It was really brutal -- a ton of rejection all at once. In the midst of my career sputtering out, it was a really tough time. I got depressed, when to therapy, and really struggled for several years.
To be honest, this stuff still stings a little bit. But I have a nice life now. My job is small but it has its satisfactions (and perks -- the one thing about having a job that is no big deal is that it leaves you with a lot of bandwidth to pursue other passions, including parenting). I have a good group of friends and I also learned I'm more resilient than I thought, and also that even if other people don't like me, I can still love myself.
I find the Mary Oliver poem Wild Geese to be encouraging. Good luck, OP!
Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:As someone who is recently separated from her husband… I feel like a complete and utter failure. I’m so embarrassed and feel so stupid for messing up the most important decision of my life.
But I’m trying to re-evaluate my failure and look at it instead as information or am experiment from which I gathered important data and information with which I can make better decisions.
I’d like to hear stories from others about failure. What do you do that failed? How did you learn from it and turn your life around? Or did it destroy you?
Hey, darling, I know you're asking people to commiserate with you, but if you're open to some unsolicited advice, keep reading...
Life’s not a straight shot down a sunlit highway. It’s switchbacks, dirt roads, and a couple potholes big enough to swallow your front tire if you’re not looking. Separation? Divorce? That's not a verdict on your worth. That’s just one chapter in the big ol’ mystery novel of you.
See, people think failure is this big red X stamped on your forehead. But failure, real, honest-to-God failure, is just a data point. Information. Like you said: an experiment. It’s the universe handing you a field report on what didn’t work so you can carve out what will.
I’ve fallen on my face more times than I care to count. Jobs I shouldn’t have taken. Friends I trusted who weren’t meant to ride shotgun. Days I woke up and didn’t recognize the man in the mirror. But every time I thought the story was over…turns out it was just the midpoint.
You didn’t mess up your life. You lived it. Boldly. And now you’ve got more clarity, more courage, and more truth than you had before.
So here’s the thing:
Don’t call yourself stupid. Don’t call yourself a failure. Call yourself a work in progress. Call yourself unfinished. Call yourself someone who’s still learning the shape of her own heart.
And you want stories? Everybody’s got a failure story. Some folks let it bury them. And some, the ones who learn, who listen, who keep going, they use it as fertilizer. Grow something new out of it. Something honest.
You’re not destroyed.
You’re recalibrating.
And that… that’s a beautiful place to be.
Keep living.
Anonymous wrote:As someone who is recently separated from her husband… I feel like a complete and utter failure. I’m so embarrassed and feel so stupid for messing up the most important decision of my life.
But I’m trying to re-evaluate my failure and look at it instead as information or am experiment from which I gathered important data and information with which I can make better decisions.
I’d like to hear stories from others about failure. What do you do that failed? How did you learn from it and turn your life around? Or did it destroy you?
Anonymous wrote:I'd encourage you to change the framing - I don't even know you and I thought 'that's my friend you're talking about.' Consider replacing 'It didn't work out' with 'I failed at the marriage.'
Anonymous wrote:Anonymous wrote:So many things! My career is essentially a failure -- I have a job but the money I spent on a graduate degree and my early ambitions were totally for nothing. When I talk to friends from grad school and right after about work, I can see the bewilderment that I am where I am. But I just flamed out -- I wasn't good enough, didn't have the energy, and couldn't cut it. I feel fortunate to have a steady paycheck doing work that isn't physically taxing. I'm rounding on 50 and have to accept it's as far as I'm ever going to get in this career.
I have some ambition to maybe start a small business or pursue a second career in a less competitive field once my kid's college is taken care of and I can take that kind of risk.
I also had a huge social failure about 10 years ago I'm still recovering from. Not romantic -- I had a falling out with a friend and almost everyone in our mutual friend group took her side. It was really brutal -- a ton of rejection all at once. In the midst of my career sputtering out, it was a really tough time. I got depressed, when to therapy, and really struggled for several years.
To be honest, this stuff still stings a little bit. But I have a nice life now. My job is small but it has its satisfactions (and perks -- the one thing about having a job that is no big deal is that it leaves you with a lot of bandwidth to pursue other passions, including parenting). I have a good group of friends and I also learned I'm more resilient than I thought, and also that even if other people don't like me, I can still love myself.
I find the Mary Oliver poem Wild Geese to be encouraging. Good luck, OP!
Wow. Thank you for your heartfelt and thoughtful post. Your kids and employer should be grateful to have you!! I’m feeling kinda stuck for my next step and this note is inspiring. Thank you!
Anonymous wrote:So many things! My career is essentially a failure -- I have a job but the money I spent on a graduate degree and my early ambitions were totally for nothing. When I talk to friends from grad school and right after about work, I can see the bewilderment that I am where I am. But I just flamed out -- I wasn't good enough, didn't have the energy, and couldn't cut it. I feel fortunate to have a steady paycheck doing work that isn't physically taxing. I'm rounding on 50 and have to accept it's as far as I'm ever going to get in this career.
I have some ambition to maybe start a small business or pursue a second career in a less competitive field once my kid's college is taken care of and I can take that kind of risk.
I also had a huge social failure about 10 years ago I'm still recovering from. Not romantic -- I had a falling out with a friend and almost everyone in our mutual friend group took her side. It was really brutal -- a ton of rejection all at once. In the midst of my career sputtering out, it was a really tough time. I got depressed, when to therapy, and really struggled for several years.
To be honest, this stuff still stings a little bit. But I have a nice life now. My job is small but it has its satisfactions (and perks -- the one thing about having a job that is no big deal is that it leaves you with a lot of bandwidth to pursue other passions, including parenting). I have a good group of friends and I also learned I'm more resilient than I thought, and also that even if other people don't like me, I can still love myself.
I find the Mary Oliver poem Wild Geese to be encouraging. Good luck, OP!