On Failure

There’s this story (stop me if you’ve heard this before) about a father and son who wanted to fly high above the clouds and prove that humans could do what the birds could do. So they took some feathers and some wax and made wings out of them. They flew high into the sky, but the son wanted to fly higher—closer to the sun. But the wings we’re strong enough. One by one, the feathers fell, and suddenly—he plummeted.

I’ve fallen again and again and again. My wings are sticky, waxy, ugly wings, with stripped feathers poking out at odd angles. But still, I jump off the cliff toward the sun, trying to fly.

Failure is humiliating. I honestly thought I could go through life with minimal failure. I assumed I would get through high school, and after college I would start my life with minimal friction. Like others I saw on TV and in magazines, I would instantly discover my talent, and from there it would take no time for it to be recognized. That would kick off my career, my life, my wealth, and then—the accolades would start pouring in.

When, by 19, things didn’t happen, I grew confused. What was the issue? What was wrong with me? What was wrong with the world? When, by 23, my life was still not perfect, I tried to investigate. I looked at my friends, my weight, my circumstances. When, at 30, my life was still a mess, I thought something was wrong and that my fate had been given to someone else—I had been wronged.

I have tried so many things and failed again and again. The anime magazine, the resale shop, the film club, the (1st) YouTube page, the short stories, the burlesque career, the Twitch career, the (2nd) YouTube page, the job as a reporter, the film festival curator, selling online courses, script consultant, stylist… all pursued with varying lack of success. Some lasted years and took years to decline; some fizzled out in a matter of weeks.

At some point, the failures start to bleed into you. They are no longer your failures—they become you. The line between what you did and what you are starts to blur, and all the things you couldn’t achieve start to crowd around you like clutter. At a certain point—I don’t know when—I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to try anything because I was tired of being around my failures. I didn’t want to attempt a new project or start a new idea because I was paralyzed by the idea of racking up another tab onto the failure pile. This lasted for a few years.

I identified myself as a failure: a person who could do nothing right, who had no accomplishments to name, and who failed at everything they tried. I was laid out on the rocks, my wings melted all around me, staring up toward the sun, as far away as ever.

I decided to do something different. I would talk about my failures. I would share them. I would tell people how many times I failed and that, despite it all, I am going to try again. I want to talk with others who lie on their own jagged rocks with broken wings and ask them questions. I want to fly together. Or watch someone else get close and be there to catch them.

I made up my mind that the failures would not define me. Instead, I would be defined by how many times I got back up and tried again—by my persistence. That no matter how many times things didn’t work out, I’d use that as inspiration or motivation for the next thing—a little smarter, a little wiser each time.

So here I am. Sharing this with you, hoping that if you are in your season of falling like I was, you don’t think you are the only one. That you don’t stay on that rock too long. That we are getting up together. And we will try again and again. I might not be defined by my success, but I will not be defined by my failures either.

I’m going to share more of my journey on my website and social media. Before, I thought that if I hid my process, no one would see me fail when I inevitably did. But now I want to show it—even the failures. I think they can prove valuable. I want to be more open and connect more with others so that I can hopefully find a community. So that we can perhaps support each other.

My idea is to document more behind-the-scenes work and more things that are in process, instead of just when they are “perfectly complete” or “ready for the public.” I’ll show the messy, often disorganized, mostly frustrating process that it takes to do anything. I want to talk more with people—receive advice and give it more. I’ll show my face more and write about more personal topics, which always scared me before. This isn’t a complete rebrand, but more of an expansion. A DLC.

It’s a new year, and I feel a change in me. A desire for something else—something more. I hope to continue to improve, not by constant success, but by getting over my fear of failure. One plummet at a time.

-IP