Why we should start saying the "F" word.

Not that F-word. The other, sometimes more devastating F-word.

Failure.

I have failed several times in my life and everyone knows it.
Professionally.
Financially.
Artistically.
Romantically.
Socially.
Spiritually.
Insanely….

It isn’t some big secret. It isn’t something that people stop being my friends or family over. If someone did stop being my friend over any of these things, I didn’t notice or miss them. Or I was happy to see them go.

Failure isn’t something that makes me a bad person. It doesn’t make me unlovable. It doesn’t make me weird. It doesn’t make me a loser. It just makes me more…. “me” and frankly, more like you and you more like me! *Shudder*

It totally makes me financially broke sometimes. It totally makes me sad and upset. It totally makes me a crybaby for days or weeks at a time. It totally makes me question the direction of my life. It totally leaves me disillusioned for a moment. It totally makes me stuff my face with Red Vines and Lays Potato Chips and guzzle Coca Cola like it’s going out of style. It totally makes me wonder if God is even listening. It totally reassures me that He is…

Luckily, God created me as predisposed to a bad sense of humor. He has strategically and very pointedly surrounded me with like-minded people (thankfully), I mean, who else would offer to bedazzle your SCRAM bracelet? MY FRIENDS! And who else can make you see the humor in that well, you HAVE to wear this electronic monitoring device on your ankle just to stop drinking? As my friend lovingly said, “You have to have [expletive] drinking monitor attached to keep you from drinking. This bish!”

What can I say? I’m passionate about things I love.

Trust me, I know it’s pretty pitiful but it is also where I’m at in life right now and I just have to find the humor in it and get on with it.

Every time I physically just want to curl up in a ball and dig a hole and stay there for a while, I feel this very strong tug at my heart. Kind of like when you’re holding the leash of a puppy and he doesn’t want to stop urinating on the neighbor’s flowers and you start gently but firmly tugging him away (or your 7 year old chihuahua, whatever, same difference.) That tugging is the spirit telling you, you have to keep moving. It can’t get better standing still. Fine, mourn your newest loss of success but then, move on.

Just like success isn’t a permanent “thing” neither is failure. This is just another season that will pass and there will be plenty more successes and failures in my future.

Success isn’t a lack of failure in your life, success is getting out of bed  and trying again despite them. 

I initially thought of this post because I randomly said to myself: “I am the epitome of failure”. I didn’t say it out of pity or sadness, I just said it to own it, to embrace it, to make it stop being a “thing” to hide from and be uncomfortable about. Then I said, “I am the epitome of success, too, though” because I have been fairly successful in a lot of things in many ways. Finally, I said, “I am the epitome of crazy,” because I was talking to myself and then I nodded along to agree with myself on that, as well.

What about you? Are you getting up and out of bed despite your failures? Are you the epitome of failure, success, and crazy?

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