Unmasking failure

midlife musings on mistakes

I’ve been thinking a lot about mistakes lately.

When our toddlers make mistakes we just call it trying. The reality of failing is implicit in the trying, and we accept that effortlessly.

As our children grow, mistakes become more costly and thus something we’d rather they avoid. We offer warnings and set consequences, hoping to save them from pain and hoping to help them learn faster than their natural pace. We want them to learn not through failing but through listening well. Because failure hurts.

I was an A+ listener as a child and young adult. I wanted to please my parents, most authorities really, and I loved to make myself wise with their stories, scriptures, proverbs, studies, really expert sources of all kinds. I was adept at avoiding mistakes by doing all the right things. And then I even found I could do the strange and unusual things (the “wrong” things to someone, like making a creative business or homeschooling my kids) and still come out with gold stars and pats on the back. I could chart my own path and succeed!

No mistakes in sight.

When you are grown up, really totally grown up (aka midlife) all the mistakes are yours. On the one hand, hardly any one is offering warnings any more, and on the other, no one is going to brush off your bumblings as the follies of youth. Plus, you feel acutely how your mistakes wound those you love most. And that aches.

So, here’s the thing, I’ve been making mistakes! I mean, I’ve always been making mistakes, only in the last years they are easier to spot. I am making mistakes in part because I’m learning in real time, like a toddler crashing into the coffee table because she was trying to balance on the arm of the sofa while wearing a mask. I’m learning more by trying than by listening, which at this stage of my life is an accomplishment itself.

What I find curious is that some friends cringe when I call out my mistakes. When I cite my failure, in a gesture of love and support, many wish to soften the blow, to spin my story into something we can all stomach, like the follies of youth.

What about the follies of midlife? Those are probably refusing to see our mistakes. Insisting on wearing that mask. Listening well to everyone but ourselves.

Here’s the thing - mistakes are okay. They are allowed people! They are a valid and powerful learning device. If I describe my failings, with sorrow and regret and an inkling of what I could do differently next time, that is no siren song of despair. I can love myself smack in the middle of those failures when I’m proud of the me that tries and that learns. I admire the me that chooses to live and take risks and balance on sofas, and that’s impossible without a few tumbles.

But I won’t wear the mask anymore. That’s all. That’s what I’ve learned.

Failure is not the f-word that people make it out to be. If you love and respect yourself, you can identify your blemishes without being overcome by shame. If you’re struggling with that, maybe there is someone in your life who is equating your mistakes with worthlessness? Root that out. If necessary, root them out. Practice being the friend that can sit honestly with another’s mistakes and self-regret without whitewashing it, as if that was the only way to make things good.

Honestly, if you are seeing your mistakes then you are already on a productive path, and one we can celebrate together. Maybe our failures are the true guiding stars, haha! They beckon us on to new horizons, new hopes and new homes.

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Image notes: Moody Strings quilt with baby Elora. Aria dancing on the coffee table. And me, midlife age 43 =)