Emily Hottel King

One of the greatest gifts coaching has given me is the gift of failure.

I used to be terrified of failure. Back in the day when people would exchange “getting to know you” email surveys or post the answers on their MySpace page or blog, whenever I came across the question, “what’s your greatest fear?” my answer was always: FAILURE.

Not failure in a small, tangible sense, like failing an exam or screwing up a new recipe, but in a big, existential sense. Failing at life. Not fulfilling my potential. Not realizing my dreams.

The thing is, because of the big, abstract fear, I didn’t take small, concrete actions toward my dreams, which in turn meant I… failed. I wasn’t making any movement in the direction I wanted to go because I was so afraid of looking silly, feeling stupid, regretting my choices, messing up, facing criticism, not being good enough.

To make matters worse, I felt crappy because I knew I was doing this to myself! I was in a continuous loop of feeling anxious about making art, avoiding it by finding a million different things to waste my time on, then feeling guilty and embarrassed because I wasn’t using my time or talent to make anything worthwhile, and then avoiding THAT feeling by engaging in self-destructive behaviors. (My go-to favorites were drinking too much and chasing emotionally unavailable men. Coaching also helped with those issues, but that’s a whole other blog post.)

When I discovered coaching, I found out that people were choosing to do things that put them at risk emotionally. Not in a self-destructive emotionally-avoidant situationship way, but in a “I’m going to go for this goal that I’m not sure I can achieve, and I know I might think I’m a dummy and feel embarrassed if I don’t reach it, but I am willing to try it out anyway because I think I might learn something.” This was mind-blowing for me. Who does that? Who allows themselves to feel negative feelings on purpose?

People who want to get better at whatever they’re doing, that’s who.

People who want to get better at handling feelings like sadness, disappointment, embarrassment… so they aren’t afraid of failure.

When I look back on the last decade of my life, I see a lot of failures.

I see myself applying for jobs and getting rejected.

I see myself pitching ideas at work that did not fly.

I see myself taking jobs that seemed like a great idea and then hating the job or getting laid off (or in one case, getting stiffed for about $3,000 of pay when the company went bankrupt).

I see myself creating art that no one bought and creating art that I didn’t even like.

I see myself making mistakes and getting in trouble at work.

I see myself wasting money on products and courses that I thought would be super helpful only to end up with an empty bank account and a bellyful of buyer’s remorse.

I see myself being open to love and being disappointed. I see myself hurting others and being hurt. I see myself lashing out and regretting things I said. I see myself filled with regret when someone betrayed my trust.

But… I also see a lot of success.

I see myself changing careers in mid-life.

I see myself trying new things and being kind of good at some of them. Trying out art processes that used to scare me and really enjoying what I created.

I see myself learning ideas and skills that changed how I understood my own thoughts and emotions, then teaching those concepts to others.

I see myself learning how to experience difficult emotions in such a way that I no longer feel the need to shut them up with alcohol or constantly seek someone else’s approval.

None of those amazing accomplishments would have been possible if I hadn’t been willing to experience all the failures. Because of coaching, I became willing to fail. Willing to feel frustrated and lost and inadequate. And because I released my fear of failure—which was really just a fear of uncomfortable feelings that I might experience if I didn’t succeed—I was able to enjoy my life more, learn new things, have fun, and get really good at helping others.

So far, failure has not killed me. It’s cost me some money and some comfort, but most of the time it’s just feedback: what didn’t work this time, so I can try something different next time.

I realized that failure is the path forward, and I am committed to moving forward.