Failure

We all fail. We fail to keep promises; fail to listen; fail to be a good friend; fail to uphold our values. Some of my greatest learnings have come from failure – failure to finish college; failure to prevent a young person from failing middle school; failure to be a good partner. So what role should or does failure play in leadership?

I’ve always thought that owning up to your failures and then trying not to repeat them was the point of failure. If you could be honest, reflect, and then modify your behavior then you are doing what is “right”. I’m not quite sure about that any more.

As I move down my path towards leadership, I realize that my failures have become more significant and that my failures have a rippling effect on others. As I become more connected to others around me, I can’t help feel a greater sense of responsibility.

When I was younger, I shirked responsibility. My house was a mess. I didn’t keep obligations. I was argumentative with almost all authority figures. I wanted to forge my own way without considering how “going it alone” might have an adverse effect on what I was trying to accomplish. I thought no one else could possibly understand what I was going through.

One of my greatest failures was to my family. As an angry post-adolescent, I cut of ties to my parents for almost four years. I was trying to make sense of who I really was, and I needed to cut out voices that I felt impeded me from hearing my own voice. I did this without any regard for or sense of what my parents felt, thought, or believed. I know it hurt them, but I was too consumed with becoming “me” that I pushed those thoughts from my head. “Oh…it’s someone ‘else’,” I told myself. I never really considered that that “else” had their own uniquely valuable experience.

Later, when my parents and I started speaking again, I didn’t really apologize for my actions. I remember chalking up to me being immature or needing to find myself. I remember avoiding the conversation, saying “You really wouldn’t understand.” I never appreciated how difficult that experience was for them, nor how many compromises they had to make as a result of me.

This is not to say that I didn’t need that separation. Reflecting on the experience, I definitely needed the space. I am who I am and I am where I am because of it. I have amazing friends who are more like family. (The other night, I had an impromptu dinner party and one of my friends leaned over to me as she was leaving and said “Thanks. I needed some family time.”) I have a career, not just a job. I have a strong sense of independence, and I am no longer afraid to be by myself. I know at least a little more of who I am.

I am also not saying that other good did not come from that separation. My parents and I now have a much stronger relationship. I see that both of my parents are more independent and happier than I ever remember. And my siblings are all blazing their own trails. It is a wonderful gift to see this growth.

What I have learned is that all of us, individually and collectively, are resilient. We bounce back from failure; we are stronger because of failure; we grow because of failure. My failure with my family brought about much needed changes to out family dynamic. My failing college has given me tenacity within my career and birthed innovation because I feel the need to push myself even harder. My failure at preventing a youth from failing middle school forced me to reflect on my practice, my intention, and my beliefs. It made me even more dedicated to academics and focused me on questioning the role after school plays in closing the achievement gap. (I’m still unsure of what the true role is. But instead of brushing the question aside, I now ask: how can after school programs bridge the divide between school, youth, family, and community? In my opinion, someone has to be the bridge builder and after school can at least propose a blueprint.)

As I move down my path towards leadership, what role does failure play? How do I account for failure? How do I minimize its impact on those to whom I am connected?

I know I don’t have the answer. I’m not sure I ever will because that is part of the nature of failure – you sometimes don’t know you’ve failed until it is staring you in the face.

What I can do is freely talk about my failures, learn as much as I can from them, and try not to repeat them. I can admit to them and accept the consequences. Ultimately, I can allow myself to be human.

Side note: I started writing this post last week. In my discussion with my coach, we decided to have a lesson of failing at three things over the course of the week. One of my failures was not putting up a post last week. It was an interesting experience for me. I am normally very one top of my work. It took a lot of will to consciously fail something. I feel blessed that I did fail as it reinforced what I believe. Thanks Coach!