A case for embracing failures

The concept of failing was shrouded with shame and guilt for most of my life, and especially so when I was a student. But I have had a change of approach since. Now, my motto is to fail better each time

I may have begun writing my next book. You may not understand the gravity of this sentence, but for someone who has spent almost seven years searching for the right form that could encompass what I wanted my sequel to be, this moment feels significant. I arrived upon it purely by chance. Let’s rephrase that, I was compelled by a particular circumstance—a pressing deadline that I wanted to honour. I had to write a personal essay, and I had decided on a title, and when I struggled to find the time to sit in front of my laptop and compose it, I began writing, instead, by hand, on flashcards. I refilled my ink pen after what felt like centuries. It was so dry from the inside I had to wash it with warm water and let the ink crumbs run out. And then I decided to write whenever I was able to find a moment. I would avoid re-writing, and I would not look up anything online.

It is liberating and empowering to embark on this new possible book. It allows me to indulge in motherhood more enthusiastically because I do not perceive it as keeping me away from writing. At the same time, because I have been working so hard on myself, on smoothing out my roughest edges, not giving in to my tendencies to people-please and actively engaging in acts of kindness towards my being, I am enjoying the suspense-filled nature of the process. I love thinking about what I will write when I get the opportunity, but when I have the ink pen in my hand, my fingers go rogue, and I play along, and I’m having fun, dear reader. I’m delighting in playing with my thoughts.

I am aware that this whole undertaking could fail. Maybe all the words I collect on these flashcards, this spine-less accumulation of insight-emotion-intuition-wisdom relates to no one else and eventually finds no takers. Maybe the writing falls flat on its head and I read it all later and I hate it. Or maybe my agent hates it. I’ve already anticipated various scenarios, but this time around I feel quite motivated by these high stakes. I feel almost unafraid of failure. Rather, I am embracing it, and this is a game-changer.

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I’m sure I’m not the only one with complex associations related to failure. All through my school and college life, failing has been shrouded in shame and guilt. I failed maths when I was in school and I still have nightmares about it. I almost failed Marathi several times and I continue to have recurring dreams in which I am told that my SSC certificate is not valid because I didn’t appear for the Marathi exam. It was not something I was allowed to do. Failing was frequently met with punishment, which came in different forms; the most gutting of them being parental disapproval. One’s sense of self could also be shattered because from being someone who excelled at things you were now someone who failed. This shadow of potential failure has possibly haunted me all my life, driving me towards success and compelling me to work towards standards that were simply harsh or unkind.

Re-orienting my relationship with failure has been one of the biggest challenges of my adult life. I don’t know if I’ve necessarily succeeded in my attempts, but I am sure I have a healthier relationship with failing than I did even 10 years ago. My current motto is to fail better each time, and I wonder if learning German non-institutionally has had something to do with altering how I perceive failure. Learning a new language in a context in which you are already living in the environment that relies on that language means you have to be okay with making mistakes, and allowing your speech to be corrected by others. It takes humility and vulnerability. You realise that each mistake improves your faculties in relation to that language. It’s empowering when you acknowledge that one makes daily progress and the successes are not tied in to whether you pass a test but rather your ability to relate more fluently to the world around you.

Maybe the hardest part about failure is interrogating whether the source of validation is internal or external and what the stakes are if you do not necessarily succeed. To fail better requires you to buffer your personhood, or your ego, in a certain way, to have an understanding of oneself that cannot be manipulated too easily by circumstances outside of your control. Failure requires surrender, and that is exhilarating. It’s like you tell yourself that you have your own back, and you give yourself permission to go a bit wild, to experiment, while taking care not to set unrealistic goals. Last night I failed at the grilled artichokes I attempted. But now I know I should have taken off more leaves. Next time it will be almost perfect, I’m sure. I’m already looking forward to today’s failure.

Deliberating on the life and times of Everywoman, Rosalyn D’Mello is a reputable art critic and the author of A Handbook For My Lover. She tweets @RosaParx
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The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.

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