Not to brag but by the time I was 18, I had pretty much managed to be a success at everything I attempted. To be fair, I hardly attempted much out of the ordinary but still, I was an overachiever. Academically, I didn't just succeed, I excelled. I was an A+ student and when it came to extra-curriculars, I stayed far away from anything athletic and opted for less competitive alternatives like music, dance, writing and public speaking. I was always poised to come out on top of every effort. So as you can imagine, when I finally encountered my first taste of failure, it was as bitter as f*#k!
When I took my learner drivers test, it was a piece of cake. I was the first one among all my friends to pass it. I studied hard and breezed through the exam with time to spare so I joined the queue to book my test 3 months from the date. Here I was now, 3 months later, back in the queue, experiencing a feeling I had never felt before and never wanted to feel again. It all happened so fast that I didn't even quite grasp what was going on until the instructor yelled it right at me. "You've failed!"
I didn't even make it out of the car park. Nervous as expected, I completed my internal and external checks of the vehicle, started the car with the instructor sitting next to me, who by the way, really looked more intimidating than necessary. I shifted the gear from neutral to first and slowly proceeded to press down the accelerator and release the clutch while lowering my hand brake ever so slowly, the rhythmic routine that I had practiced about a hundred times that week on that same car, repeating silently to myself and the car, "don't switch off, don't switch off..." and then I was on my merry way. As I eased forward out of the parking bay, a pedestrian entered the carpark from the left of me and paused about 5 metres in front of my car. He turned back and appeared to be waiting for a young girl, who was following behind him to catch up. He seemed like he would start moving again soon and I was barely even rolling towards him at that point so it didn't phase me at all. I just kept crawling forward. Before I could even process what was happening, the scary instructor lady grabbed the steering wheel and slammed the passenger brake, lurching us against our seatbelts. "You're going to knock them!" She was full on yelling at me. "What is wrong with you! Get out of the car!" I was terrified. I jumped out and looked first at the man and his daughter who were now far ahead of us and hadn't even seemed to notice the tantrum that ensued.
"What happened?" I asked crazy instructor lady softly and trembling. She yelled back angrily, "Didn't you see that man? You didn't even hoot! You've failed! I had to take control of the vehicle so now I have to fail you." I followed her back to her office, my body rigid with terror and humiliation. I wanted to defend myself. I saw him. I was in control. I wouldn't have knocked him. What do you mean I failed? But I didn't mutter a word. I was in total shock. This was not how I planned on this day ending at all. I even had my hair all set for my drivers licence photo.
All I mustered up the courage to ask was, "Can I book another test?" in a mousey voice. She looked annoyed by my question and replied bluntly, "You can go join the queue but if I were you I wouldn't bother, you are absolutely not capable of driving yet." All I could think was that if this is what failure felt like, it totally sucked. Before I got there I was almost certain that I could drive, and do it well. This complete stranger had single-handedly made me question if I could actually do anything that I thought I could. Was I really as incompetent as she suggested? Maybe I had almost knocked the guy. I couldn't even trust my own recollection. I couldn't fight back the tears so I left the queue and cried all the way home. I wasn't crying because I had failed my drivers licence, but because I was now convinced that I, myself was a failure.
That moment marked the beginning of my very long and complicated relationship with failure. It took me a year and a half to get over that experience and get my licence, eventually after all of my friends had gotten theirs. I actually only got it on the third try. Since that day though, I have experienced failure on multiple levels, academically, in relationships, friendships and in my career. Every time I failed at something I would get that pang of humiliation and defeat. It's been hard to shake but it's one of the areas in which I think I have grown the most. Even though I definitely don't enjoy failing, I would say that today it has less of an impact on how I move forward or how I value myself afterwards. If I could go back to that day, I would have probably spoken up for myself and said "Ok crazy lady, you can fail me if you want, but you have no idea about my capabilities." I also might have said "Hey crazy lady! I'm the one who just failed, what the heck are you so upset about?" I would have tried again sooner and I wouldn't have taken it so personally.
These are some lessons I've learned on the purpose of failure in my life.
Life lessons:
1. Failure is normal, necessary and it's nothing to be ashamed of.
2. When you fail, it only serves to confirm something about a method or a circumstance and it says nothing about your ability to succeed in general.
3. Sometimes it's your fault, sometimes it can be as random as someone's mood.
4. Don't let failure dictate your next move
5. It is only truly a failure if you learned absolutely nothing from it
6. You don't have to defend your failures to people who never believed you could succeed anyway
7. Failure exists to humble you, not hinder you. So keep it moving!