Failure. It had been sometime since I had felt that I failed at something. So long, that I had forgotten how desolate it can be. Tony Robbins, arguably the best-known coach in the world refers to our need to behave in way that remains consistent with how we see ourselves.
Two areas where I believe that I behave in a consistent way are: my ability to write; and, the ability to get good academic results – when I apply myself. And while I have many failings, and being Irish, I will list them to you at ease. The Mna and Fir na hEireann* make self-deprecatory ramblings a national sport. We see it as a healthy sign of “not taking oneself so seriously”. And while it may not be healthy, or helpful, we are comfortable with it.
I often suspected, however, that self-mockery can be a clever ruse by those who suspect that they shine brighter than most, but who wish to make themselves appear more “human” to those around them. Indeed, a respected Harvard Business Journal Paper by Goffee and Gareth Jones corroborates this. The research -the culmination of 25 years of work- showed that one of the four qualities that many inspirational leaders share, is that they “selectively reveal their weaknesses”.
In June this year, I submitted the first paper as part of a Masters. And while it has been some time since I passed through the gates of my Alma Mater, last year I had ghost-written a conference paper for an academic audience. The paper was a success.
I was expecting a minimum of 66 for the paper, with a possibility of a distinction. I got 54.
“54”, you might say. “That is not a failure”. Indeed it is not a fail. An optimist might even call it “a solid pass”. But to me, it is a failure. And it also happens to be the lowest mark I have ever got for a paper – where I made an effort.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to give up. My toddler, sensing my distress, held out her arms. Her haste to reach me caused her to fall over her musical guitar. She began to cry. Normally, I distract her from her pain. Now, she was distracting me from mine.
And when the family was in a happy slumber, I lay awake in bed, experiencing some of the five stages of grief: anger and denial. I doubted that I could do better if I tried. I had referenced, read widely, and re-read carefully. For Goodness sake, I had been a Masters Thesis supervisor myself! How could this happen?
The chilled Chablis that we had intended to take out to celebrate my good marks was left untouched.
I got out of bed, and sat on the balcony. “First world problems”, I told myself. Up until the results, it had been a very good day. “I have so much to be grateful for”, I told myself. It was a beautiful summer’s night with a clear view of the mountains.
But I still felt forlorn. It appeared that the one thing that I could rely upon – my ability to write – was no longer dependable.
Where had I gone wrong? I had spent a good month slaving on the paper. I had sacrificed exercise for the paper’s perfection. What did I have to show for this? An increased girth size and a shoddy mark.
The following day, I woke early, feeling emotionally bruised and tired.
And then I asked myself this question: “What would I do, if a friend or client presented me with the same problem”. What question would I ask to help them shift from this troubled state?
“Have you got good marks before from respected academic institutions?”
Yes.
“Have you got bad marks before, and then got better marks when you improved?”
Yes.
“Anything else relevant?”
“I have been published in magazines and ghost written for others”.
Then, my dear girl, you can do it again. I told myself.
As the Irish Nobel-winning author Samuel Beckett once wrote: “I can’t go on. I’ll go on”.
I can get over this sooner or later, so why not make it sooner? I told myself.
When failure hits us at the point where we feel most secure, we can, at times, fall into despair, finding wallowing in the pain infinitely more comfortable than looking for a sensible way out.
So when faced with a problem that hijacks us, sometimes the answer can be as simple as:”What question would I ask, or what would I advise a friend facing a similar situation?” We cannot always “phone a friend”, but sometimes we can treat ourselves like a friend, with love, compassion and understanding. Simple, but at times, stunningly effective.
And this is not some form of fake positivity. As I don’t know if I will get better marks in the future. Maybe my written voice just does not resonate with the type of writing that this institution likes to see in academic papers? But either, way: I will write on. I will write on.
* Irish language word for “women and men of Ireland’
Support Our Campaign
We rely on the generosity of the public to fund our work and so far together we have achieved great things! Please do continue to support us so we can provide future generations in Ireland with the resources to recognise and talk about their emotions, and equip them to navigate the ever-changing world around them as they grow
