Failure

Failure.
There’s something funny about writing this word after two weeks of feeling it.

No, not the debilitating feeling of those whose failure (or perceived failure) cripples them, leaves them laying in a heap of their own decided helplessness. My failure is more like the dull ache of disappointment that comes and goes like the pain in my left shoulder. I don’t deceive myself–this is only because I’m young.

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For a long time, I said I believed that no one could fail unless they truly gave up, just stopped trying.

But then I watched as I spiraled into myself, after only a few months of “failing.”

I gave up, …kind of. And then I gave over.

It’s funny how prepositions change everything.

Recent failure: I didn’t complete my mission: 4 blogs, 4 weeks. I got busy. I forgot my computer (for a week). I went on vacation, had bad time management, and stupid forgetfulness. I failed.

And, I think I’m okay with it.

Because maybe it’s less about failing, and more about how you handle it.

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