At the start of the new year, I failed to meet the campaign outcomes. I’m currently dealing with the guilt that comes with it.
Throughout my life, my worth has been determined by my achievements. I feel great when I do something well, but feel awful when I inevitably don’t meet expectations.
I feel like this comes from my childhood, when I tried to pursue perfection by getting good grades. When I get a good grade on a test, I feel like I’m on top of the world. If I receive a poor grade, it takes me a while to get over it. I never learned that these grades mean nothing to who I am.
Success has always been seen as an expansion. With more success, the bigger the person I become. Consequently, this means failure decreases my worth.
I have to see success as a form of idolatry. I’m not talking about statues made for worship, but at the same time I kind of am. It’s to say that who I am is not enough, so I must find something outside of me to fulfill me. I’ve been working through this issue for the past 5 years now.
In turn, I have to realize that the goal set is only a mental projection. If I take this mental projection seriously, I’ve made a goal a god. For whatever reason, I am not defined by this god. I’ve traded peace to ensure a box gets checked.
So yes, it is an idol. It’s an idol because I seek satisfaction and security through achieving a target. In this, I must remember that the same satisfaction and peace are inherent in me. I don’t need to succeed to feel peace.
I can fail and still be whole.
Myth of the Should
Failing puts me in this state of should-haves and could-haves. When I fail a test, I ruminate on what I could have done to get a better score. It’s no different than when a goal isn’t met at work.
The mind tells me that I could have worked harder, stayed later, or been smarter. If I changed this or that, the outcome would have been different.
It asserts that I have a separate will that can thwart the laws of the universe. The truth is, I have no control over what happens in my work, so it’s best not to see it as a failure, but as something that was supposed to happen.
In believing that I could have reached a goal, I’m calling myself a failure when everything is as it’s supposed to be. How arrogant am I to say that it was wrong?
I didn’t fail because of what I did, but because the conditions for it to be met weren’t met. Therefore, the failure isn’t something I should hang up on; it’s neutral. It’s no different than a leaf falling from a tree.
Reporting to Others
Part of my job is then telling others that the goal wasn’t met. That brings its own guilt because I don’t want to be judged by others.
Success feels like a joyous celebration with the team, but failure feels like a defensive response. I can tell you that throughout the day, I’ve been trying to find ways to defend myself. This didn’t go well, and the other didn’t go right.
This is a cycle that I need to break. I need to make this an opportunity to express that my peace isn’t dependent on this idol.
This means I can no longer use reports for image management. I can’t report to my team with the intention of apologizing, making excuses, or even showing any shame as though I care. The truth is, I don’t… or at least I’m working myself up to the point where I don’t care.
This means that I report on the project as is, so that I stop doing so to protect a character. I also know that my colleagues are subject to the success/failure duality, and by presenting the facts, I can show them that one can “fail” and still remain whole.
I won’t be afraid of judgment because I will not offer any self-condemnation.
Questions and Responses
You aren’t feeling the “failure” of a project; you are feeling the “threat” to an identity you spent years building. Since childhood, you’ve been taught that you are a “Grade A” or “Grade F” person. This shame is the ego’s way of trying to make the dream real. It wants to convince you that a spreadsheet can stain your soul. The moment you realize you are the observer of the feeling, rather than the feeling itself, the shame begins to dissolve.
This is the ego’s favorite scare tactic. It believes guilt is the only thing that moves the body. In reality, guilt paralyzes; Love inspires. When you drop the burden of “achieving to be worthy,” you actually work more effectively because you aren’t wasting energy on defense mechanisms or ruminating on “should-haves.” You move because it is the script of the moment, not because you are trying to buy your way into heaven.
You report the facts as a neutral observer. Excuses are just a way of saying, “Please don’t execute my character.” If you realize the “character” doesn’t exist, you don’t need to protect it. Speak the truth: “The conditions for this outcome were not met.” By not offering self-condemnation, you aren’t being “arrogant”; you are being sane. You are offering your boss the gift of a workspace where it is safe to be honest.
Yes, in the most literal sense. To say “it should have been different” is to say that you know better than the unfolding of the universe. It is the belief that your small, separate will is more powerful than the totality of causes that led to this moment. Acceptance is the ultimate humility. Seeing failure as “neutral as a falling leaf” is the recognition that God’s plan for your peace is not interrupted by a marketing campaign.
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