117. Failure and Freedom
My fear drive took over, telling me I wasn’t smart enough to be at that table, and that I shouldn’t even try, because I would fail. And in not staying, in refusing to test that hypothesis, my failure was guaranteed.
In my life, I’ve missed so many opportunities because of my fear of failure. A recent example: When I spoke at TED, I was invited to a small dinner of fellow speakers in the science world. This was because my talk was about health, and therefore related to science and medicine—though when I saw the invitation, I felt a rush of imposter syndrome.
Still I figured I should go. So on the appointed evening, I made my way to an elegant restaurant in downtown Vancouver, took a seat at a table of about eight, and began introducing myself. I said hello to the person next to me, who I learned was a highly esteemed astrophysicist. I said hello to the person across from me, who just happened to be one of the scientists who had invented the CRISPR method of editing genes. Two introductions, and that was all it took. I said to myself, “What could I possibly contribute here?”
What happened next was almost out of body. I stood up and pretended to take a phone call. I walked out of the restaurant, out onto the street, and I kept walking all the way back to my hotel. All the while I was flush with a curious mixture of feelings, from panic to shame to a touch of hilarity, thinking, “Am I really doing this?” But by then, I’d passed the point of no return, and I sat in my room for the rest of the night thinking that I had failed before I even gave myself a chance.
I don’t know what would’ve happened if I had stayed. I might have sat slack-jawed and dolt-like; I may have come off as a fool. But had I stayed, I might also have been privy to a conversation between some of the most extraordinary minds of our time. I might have learned something new or even made two brilliant friends, and you might even be reading a prompt about breaking new ground from the person who invented CRISPR technology—instead of a prompt from me about fear.
But I didn’t stay. My fear drive took over, telling me I wasn’t smart enough to be at that table, and that I shouldn’t even try, because I would fail. And in not staying, in refusing to test that hypothesis, my failure was guaranteed.
– Suleika
Prompt:
Imagine your life without the fear of failure. What risk would you take if you knew you couldn't fail? What would you create in the absence of fear?
Aimee-Jo Benoit
Location: Calgary, AB, Canada
About: I am a mother of 3 daughters, the wife of an event producer and a musician. I have always held back the deepest parts of myself because I am afraid of what will happen if I do.
Age: 41
Fear of Failure
I have walked away from so many things since becoming a mother. Tours, piddling away settlement money instead of investing it in myself, saying no to sharing a stage with Suzanne Vega. So many things that would have filled my cup.
The thing I fear failing at the most is motherhood, and in fact the fear has been so great that at times, it has caused me to completely disconnect from the 3 beings that I grew in my womb. I was so carried away in a spiral of my own shame and insecurities that I could not see their joy, sadness, their own anxieties or even their enduring love for me.
I was afraid that if I left them to do or be what I wanted to be as a musician that I would be failing my duty as a wife and mother. I wrapped it up in things like, “I can't because we don’t have the money to do it,” or “I’m so tired, how can I prep a project?” The preposterous thing is that all the time spent thinking about the ways I would fail them, is that I WAS failing them by not being present and not giving myself a turn to be me.I failed by staying, and by overcompensating in so many other areas of my life like homemaking, any part-time jobs I had and volunteering my time to other causes.
I would go to my osteopath and she would tell me my body is exhausted and that I need to do less. I would sob saying that I didn’t know how, because isn’t this what a mother is? What a mother is supposed to do?
It wasn’t until the pandemic that I realized how little I could actually do and still be a good mother, a mother who loved her children, a mother who is putting her oxygen on first so that she can help those vulnerable little beings with all the strength she is given by that oxygen. Last year, I witnessed an acquaintance in my music community give birth to twins, and two weeks later, she was on stage performing her heart out at an awards ceremony.
So, what would I risk without being afraid?
A Post-Covid North American Tour
Investing $20,000 of my own money into my career
Monetize my blog
Learn to accompany myself on piano.
I want to be as fearless as I am vulnerable with my audience. I want to be as vulnerable with my kids as I am with my audience. I want to face the fear and get on with it.
xx
AJ
Anonymous
Location: Oregon
About: This is my first journal entry. The only way I could fail on this is to not submit it.
Age: 40
I'm finding this prompt harder than I thought to write about. Fear of failure seems so tied to pressure of succeeding. Yet they feel different to me. Fear of failure is a shrinking away, I grow small, I push my body to the very back of my deep dark cave. Pressure of success is a weight. I'm at the bottom of the ocean, and there are 10,000 pounds of pressure on every inch of my body, pinning me to the ocean floor, my cheek stuck firmly in the mud.
I'm feeling these two forces, bodily, about this prompt. It's my first one. I've decided I'm going to post these, anonymously, on the site. Because I never show people my writing but I want to. Because it's something different. But what is failure for this writing exercise? What is success? Is success just posting the damn thing, no matter what?
Ahh, it's not, and there's that pressure. My mind says, this is the first step to succeeding, my dear. Post this. Post another. Write more. Write a short story. Write a few more. Go to some workshops. Post your stories online. Get one published in a literary journal. Get an agent that way. Start a novel. Finish a novel. Get that published. Start on book 2. Get writer's block. Overcome writer's block. Become the next Elizabeth Gilbert.
Ahhhhh!!!! I dared to venture out of the cave, and now I'm pinned to the ocean floor. Was the cave better? I can't tell. Either way I can't move, and the air has been pushed out of my lungs. Everyone else is 3-D and I've been flattened to 2-D, relegated to watching the others dance and play.
So, what would I do without the pressure of succeeding? I'd write more. I'd fuck around with words just to find that one phrase that amplifies my soul, and I'd write it down and frame it for that week. I'd draw because it's fun. Because I'd want to get better at it so I could eventually draw things that would vibrate with my soul as well. I'd get back into kiteboarding, so I could eventually soar through the air. I'd learn the guitar, because I really want to be in a band, creating music together. I'd make paper mache art, just because it's fun. I would be SILLY. I'd have silly string parties where everyone wore party hats with tinsel on top.