Embracing feelings of failure

A few weeks ago, I tried to put into words how I was navigating a deep sense of failure. While I was experiencing the thoughts and emotions quite vividly at the time, I couldn’t bring myself to write about them. I lacked both clarity and courage. I remember staring at a blank page, typing a few hollow sentences, and then letting it all go—without even saving the draft.

If you have faced, or are currently facing, an outcome you never envisioned for yourself, or if feelings of failure are weighing on you, keep reading. This post is for you.

What led me to feel this way

As always, let’s begin with some context.

Over the past few months, I’ve been navigating significant change. I made the difficult decision to step away from an organization I had poured my heart and soul into for over five and a half years. At the same time, I chose to pursue an MBA focused on innovation and accepted a contract as a casual college instructor.

My plan was simple. I wanted to create time and space—something I’ve written about before—to recharge mentally, physically, and emotionally after several years of adversity. I envisioned working part-time, studying part-time, prioritizing self-care, and rediscovering passions like writing.

What I greatly underestimated, however, was the emotional and mental toll of an organizational dissolution, combined with navigating a new institutional system as an instructor and simultaneously going through the renewal process of my professional designation as a Certified International Trade Practitioner. Managing all of this at once proved overwhelming. By the time my MBA program began in early October, my mental bandwidth was already stretched thin.

The reality is that these circumstances—along with other factors I’ll keep private—led to me failing my certification exam.

Throughout all of this, I was also adjusting to a steep learning curve in my volunteer role as an Honorary Lieutenant Colonel with an infantry reserve regiment. With limited prior exposure to the Canadian Armed Forces and its protocols, I had a great deal to learn.

In short, there was a lot of newness to navigate. I was well outside my comfort zone and, at the heart of it all, working through the stages of grief.

When failure feels personal

I believe the feelings of failure had been quietly building for some time, but I didn’t fully grasp their depth until after I failed that exam.

What’s interesting is that I had anticipated the possibility of failure and tried to prepare myself mentally. A good friend told me:

“Treat this as a dry run. You’ll ace it next time, now that you know what it involves.” It was wise advice, and I adopted that mindset going in.

What I underestimated, however, was the small but persistent glimmer of hope that slipped through my rationalization. While I waited for the results—simply marked Pass or Fail—that hope danced loudly in my head, whispering maybe… just maybe.

When I saw the failed result, I wasn’t shocked. What surprised me was how deeply devastated I felt days later. That disappointment spiralled into a broader narrative of feeling like a failure overall—prompting me to second-guess my recent decisions and my future.

Let’s just say November was a difficult month to get through.

Embracing failure to understand our beliefs

You may have noticed that I chose the word embracing rather than overcoming failure in the title of this post—and that choice was intentional.

I believe that to truly move forward after failure, we must first welcome the emotions it stirs. It’s one thing to acknowledge feelings like sadness, anger, guilt, or disappointment. It’s another to understand the thoughts that fuel them.

For me, the dominant thought—the one feeding my feelings of failure—was the fear of being a disappointment. To myself. To others.

This belief surfaced repeatedly, especially when I perceived that I had let someone down. Because I’m still learning how to establish healthy boundaries, saying no doesn’t come easily. Even when I honour what’s best for me, I often imagine—or perceive—that I’ve disappointed someone, particularly when I read phrases like “We’re disappointed to hear…”

By leaning into that thought—by acknowledging it and even getting curious about it—I began to loosen its grip.

What I came to realize is that, as a child, I learned to associate love with performance. I believed I had to earn love by doing well. When I didn’t meet expectations, the resulting emotions were profound disappointment and self-loathing, paired with a deep-seated fear of no longer being loved.

This realization came unexpectedly while watching the second season of Fugueuse, a Quebec-produced drama now available on Netflix. In a powerful scene, a father apologizes to his daughter for making her feel that love had to be earned, rather than freely given because she was already worthy.

That moment crystallized something in me. I recognized how deeply I had internalized that same belief—and how it still shows up in my life today. Even when I go above and beyond, I can still be triggered by guilt and disappointment if I sense dissatisfaction on the other side.

Awareness, I’ve learned, is power. And now that I can name this belief, I can begin to challenge it.

Learning from what surfaces

Looking back, it wasn’t the external circumstances alone that made me feel like a failure. It was the underlying belief that I was unworthy of love unless I performed or excelled.

I can now trace specific interactions where I internalized perceived disappointment. This is why I encourage you to gently examine the thoughts feeding your emotions. You may be surprised, as I was, by the beliefs that surface during moments of adversity.

These realizations may arrive unexpectedly—through a scene in a TV show, for instance—or through conversation, mindfulness, time in nature, or activities that genuinely fill your cup.

I believe that by talking openly with trusted people beforehand, I had unknowingly laid the groundwork for that insight to emerge when I was ready to receive it.

A few reflections that helped me

I’ll close by sharing a few practices that supported me through this process, in the hope that they may serve you as well.

Welcome what you’re feeling

Our instinct is often to numb or avoid uncomfortable emotions. Yet acknowledging and allowing them—rather than suppressing them—helps them move through us more quickly. Whether through tears, movement, creativity, mindfulness, nature, or spiritual practice, give yourself permission to feel. Remember: you are more than your emotions.

Connect with the thoughts beneath the feelings

Pay attention to the thoughts quietly shaping your emotional experience. Deep-rooted beliefs can be difficult to identify at first. Visualization, reflection, and honest conversation with a trusted person can help bring them into the light.

Be gentle with yourself

Extend to yourself the same compassion you would offer a dear friend. Grace, forgiveness, and kindness are not indulgences—they are necessities. If this feels difficult, that, too, is valuable information and a meaningful place to begin.

Anchor what you’ve learned

Whether by writing, sharing with someone you trust, or documenting your reflections in another way, grounding your insights helps them take root. When lessons are acknowledged and integrated, they leave a lasting imprint—and shape us into more whole, compassionate human beings.

Holding the heart gently—where vulnerability meets self-compassion.