On Failure
Some Honesty for Your Ass
I dream of being a figure skater. I’ve always loved it: the music, the movement, the thin blades, the drama of it all.
In January of 2023, I registered for lessons. After learning that an acquaintance of mine was taking lessons (wait, adults can try new things?) she encouraged me to give it a shot. I signed up for the introductory lessons for 6 weeks, which started at 7 am at the other end of town. I didn’t mind, waking up giddily to go learn how to twizzle and skate backwards.
It didn’t last, of course: it’s an expensive hobby, and also, I’m better in my dreams than I am in the skates.
So when I watched Ilia Malinin fight his way through a performance he was slated to triumph in at the Olympics, I wondered how that gap between dreams and reality affected him, since he can do the impossible, after all.
Years ago, I went to visit friends who lived in Detroit. They told their church that their singer/songwriter/Nashville-based musician friend was coming for a visit, why not have her sing at church? I felt grateful for the invitation and enjoyed rehearsal and singing with my friends, who were also a part of the band.
During the service, I went to open my mouth and instead, I croaked like a frog. No, it was more choking, coughing? This wasn’t a sneaky clearing of the throat, no quick sip of water. To this day, I have no idea what happened, other than God himself said, “Nah, not today girl” because I hacked my way through the song, and thankfully, not in the microphone. My friend jumped in and sang the song while I embarrassingly watched from side stage.
We all say that what we do is not who we are and we claim to know it, to believe it. But I’ve realized my belief systems are full of flaws—illusions—and I don’t realize it until a fracture in the system, some failure, however great or small. Our lives don’t have to be played out on the Olympic stage, or even a church stage, for us to learn this.
The problem is not how we fail—that is inevitable. The question remains: what do we do? I often build a house there at the site and mail all my friends a new change of address: I am a failure.
Several years ago at the beginning of my graduate school program, in an introduction to ministry class, I was required to visit AA meetings and Al-Anon meetings and write about my experiences.
At my first meeting, a group of twenty sat silently until a woman holding a binder in her lap began the meeting by welcoming everyone and reading the twelve steps. She opened the floor for anyone to begin by sharing a topic or anything burning on their heart, but after a minute of silence, she confessed that she was struggling with unmet expectations in a relationship and resentment, wondering if they were fair or not, and decided that resentment would be the topic for discussion for the meeting.
Our conversation shifts and moves as people share. A woman tells us she has an upcoming surgery and expressed concerns for how to handle receiving pain meds. “I don’t like to throw drugs away…” but before she finishes her sentence, the leader replied deadpan, “Yes, I think that’s what our problem is,” while gesturing to the group. We all burst out in laughter. No one was dismissive. They were laughing because they understood. A man sitting in front of me turned around and looked me in the eyes and said, “Now that’s some honesty for your ass.”
I walked in thinking I didn’t understand addiction. But I understood every word.
The music that accompanies Ilia at his performance is beautiful instrumentation with his own voiceover speaking these words:
The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing. The lost is in the unknown. Embrace the storm. You are something, but not nothing. The past is not a chain, but a thread. Pull it, and it may lead you home. Begin where light no longer reaches, where no path has yet been made.
Have you been where the light no longer reaches? I’ve been spelunking, and that is one beautiful and terrifying way to encounter darkness. But I’m talking at the bottom of the bottle, at the end of yourself. How many times?
What is my drug of choice, you might be wondering? Performing, perfectionism, belief that my lens through which I view the world is the right one, that I am in control, that I never have enough or exactly what I’m looking for, that if I just had x I would be happy. The list morphs and changes every day. Not addictions, you say? How about my phone that I take everywhere, that I use to help accomplish most of these beliefs?
Identifying myself with my failures, addictions and problems is not a way to build a house in the pit of hell but to build a house in the center of mercy.
At the end of one meeting I visited, we stood and cheered for those who were celebrating sobriety, one day or one decade. And then we held hands and recited the serenity prayer.
The house that addicts are building in recovery is just right next door to my little shanty, singing an honest, irreverent, hopeful song: I failed, and I am loved. The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing. The lost is in the unknown…
This world is not going to give us standing ovations for admitting our powerlessness over ourselves. It cheers for success. (And that’s okay.)
But I don’t only want success. I want victory.
Ilia skates again, at the closing exhibition gala. It’s not for a score this time. I’d wager this skate is for him and him alone. I shed some tears watching this young kid (21!) pour his heart on the ice and remembered my neighbors in recovery programs, singing a song of victory.
Failure isn’t something to be afraid of. Our address never changes, no matter how flawed our belief systems are.
We are not what we do. Now that’s some honesty for your ass.
Thank you.
Absolutely beautiful, Becca. This one really resonated with me. Thank you for your continued bravery in writing!