Failure. Its a pretty big situation. And what is even worse is the depression and all the mixed feelings that come along with it. Not that I haven’t heard of this particular word and its many phases before, I certainly have. Only, I have never felt it – never in recurring or heavy doses atleast.
Yes, I have faltered and fallen down but never completely failed before myself. Having been that person for as long back as I can remember , I choose what I want to do and I make myself pretty good at it, if not the best. Each time someone sets out to grab a chance at being good, there are always going to be the missteps that sprain hope and determination. Yet, the pure greed to get what I want led me to it.
Failing at something I was once fairly good at – hurts. I fell, got back up and dusted myself only to fall pretty hard this time. I fractured the reigns of perseverance and practice that kept it all together. The feeling hits hard and makes everything else seem lackluster and vapid while I constantly try to pull up my socks and push up my spirits only to crumble into a heap of anxious fury.
I try telling myself, “This can’t be so hard to handle. After all failures are stepping stones to success. Why should one of them take you all the way down?”
It so happens that words are easier said than put to any good use. A continual effort of rigorous faith and obstinacy of mind and manner maybe the hard way out, but is the only way out. Easy makes me fearless on the outside but an absolute coward on the inside. Having been through a phase like that, I have no mind to visit it again.
So, until I nurture back my sprained ankle from basketball and fractured hopes from defeats and frustrated attempts , I hope to learn bouncing back from debacles rather than burying myself under the fear of one.