A Museum of Failures

Reflecting Upon Failures That Supported My Growth

Photo by Ostap Senyuk on Unsplash

In October, I read a blog titled “My Museum of Failures” from Michelle who writes the “Sundaze Book Cafe”. I was very drawn to her usage of the concept reframed in which she took a failure and put it in a positive light. As someone in their mid-20s, I’m always interested to see the failures others have in their lives. This mindset started from a vicarious learning viewpoint but has slowly shifted into a genuine curiosity; nowadays, I try to experience things on my own over learning via others. Reading her blog had me thinking about my own failures and I decided I wanted to create my own. Please give hers a read as well when you have the time.

At this point in my life, I’m more active in seeking out failure and learning from these moments, but that wasn’t always the case. Failure has always been an interesting concept to me, but I wasn’t quite sure what I thought of it. At the moment, I don’t feel that I have many but through writing this, I’ve come to better understand why: I’ve come to realize that every failure is essentially a success in some way, I haven’t had many moments to fail, and I used to avoid failure at any cost.

Some of these failures are things I’ve talked about often because they’re such pivotal moments in my life. Some are just plain embarrassing that I kept them to myself or very close friends. That being said, I’m trying to live a life of vulnerability and openness so here’s another step toward that.

I failed a class by less than a percent and dropped out of nursing school

It’s weird to think that I was even studying nursing at some point but in January 2020, after years of finally finishing the classes I needed to, I started my school’s nursing program. I had worked hard to get to that point and was finally where I wanted to be. Right?

In SpongeBob Training Video Voice: WRONG!

The way the program was structured, the classes were split into two 8-week sections adding up to a 16-week semester. The first set of 8-week courses was interesting. I was miserable during that time but I guess that’s a common experience amongst most student nurses. It’s unfortunate that being nervous and stressed out is a rampant and normalized phenomenon but it is nevertheless.

I knew nursing school would be hard and it was hard; many of my classmates shared that same sentiment, even the ones that excelled above the others. But while my classmates struggled just the same as I did, they seemed to be better off and pushed through. Why wasn’t that the case for me? What was I missing? I ended up neglecting what my brain was telling me to consider: my mental health. I would guilt myself into thinking that I was just being lazy, that other people would love to be where I was, and that others don’t even get this opportunity. While it was tough, I was able to get through the first 8-week section’s set of classes and move on to the latter half.

The second set of 8-week courses came around and I was getting used to the level of difficulty but then COVID happened and I became a more miserable student.

The pandemic didn’t help my situation at all. I remember watching the news about the virus back in early 2020 and thinking “This probably won’t turn out to be much” but that turned out to not be true at all. As if reading online forums of less-than-stellar nursing experiences wasn’t already bad enough, videos of nurses explaining their mistreatment during the heights of the pandemic only sowed more doubt. Constant bombardments of the news, lack of empathy from some professors, and a disregard for humanity from others; my brain couldn’t handle properly processing it all. The variables that attributed to my confusion about studying nursing only continued to add up.

I despise online learning, I hate being behind a computer screen learning when I know I could just learn the material on my own. I enjoy being around others, being in classroom environments, and interacting with people. Logging into Zoom classes leeched off my energy and forced me to look at others through a square box; I could hardly focus. All I could think about were my doubts, the state of the world, and whether nursing was right for me.

I forgot what courses I was taking at the time and I’m sure I struggled a lot with most of them, but I struggled a lot with pharmacology in particular. For my final exam, at the end of this long 16-week semester, I had the issue of this test making or breaking my grade. I could have just as easily passed as I could have just as easily failed. At the end of these four months, acedia leeched into my veins and I did minimal studying. I stopped caring about this class but cared just enough to pass the others.

I ended up failing my pharmacology class by less than a singular percent. I did the math and reconfirmed the math often when I found out. If I got even one more question correct then I would have passed the class. If I had done better on my previous tests, I would have continued to the next semester. If I decided to cheat during this time when testing methods were still being figured out, I would have moved on with the same cohort of students that I started with. But none of those things happened and I failed the course.

We were allowed one opportunity to retake just one class, but if a student failed another course then they would be kicked out of the nursing program. This meant that if I decided to retake my class and pass it, then I would have to go through the next three semesters without the safety net of at least one failed class.

I ended up having a Zoom meeting with my professor, a conversation about next steps. This was something she did with all the students that failed and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one that did. In my other courses, I faced a lack of empathy from my other professors but it was refreshing to speak with her. We spoke about whether nursing was right for me. It wasn’t demeaning but a heart-to-heart conversation making sure I was studying something I wanted to study. During that conversation, I could have asked my professor to bump up my grade and even she could have suggested it but I think we both knew that this wasn’t what I wanted.

I had a lot of time to think about things but eventually decided I wanted to retake pharmacology and try again. I’m a person that gets back up and pushes through regardless of what’s thrown at him. I had to wait the whole summer and until the start of the second 8-week section in the latter half of the Fall semester to retake pharmacology. I spent that time thinking about my future, what I wanted in life, and improving upon my mental health.

I ended up passing the final exam in December and passing the class with a B. That same month I decided to drop out of the nursing program and pivoted into Cybersecurity, a field that interested me but was too scared to pursue due to self-limiting doubts.

Reframed:

I absolutely abhor nursing; it just isn’t for me. I commend anybody in that profession but I’m simply not built for it at all. When I told my parents that I was going to drop out of nursing to pursue Cybersecurity, I thought that I was going to be met with disapproval but my parents were very supportive of me switching majors. I even had a conversation with my mom who told me that at the end of the day, it’s my life I’m living, that what I do for the rest of my life is up to me. The pressure that I thought they and others were putting upon me was just pressure I was imposing on myself.

2020 was a pivotal moment in my life. This was a year filled with pain and confusion that translated into so much growth. This was the year that I started to live for myself more, started to make sure that I spent time on things I cared about and not what others expected of me. It was a year when I realized what I wanted in life. It’s still a work in progress but I do believe that most things I do now are because I want to do them.

If I never failed my class, if I never dropped out of the nursing program, then I wouldn’t be where I am today. If it were not for this failing moment then I would never have started living life for myself.

I burnt out writing a web novel after 39 published chapters

I had finished the first draft of an idea that I’ve had for years and wanted that to sit a bit. I wanted to review it with fresh eyes so I ended up writing the first eight or so chapters for a new idea, something that would be ‘practice’ and not hold much of a focus compared to my main work. It was meant to be another novel, but I learned about web novels at the time, so I decided to take a stab at it. Serial writing ended up being a lot more work than I previously thought.

I published my first chapter in April 2021. I wrote pretty consistently and posted on a somewhat weekly basis but that slowly fizzled out as I got busier with school and as my backlog thinned until none existed. I continued to publish chapters until I posted my last one in May 2022. It accumulated to 39 total chapters but the story still isn’t finished and I feel terrible for anyone that read it. Imagine reading a whole story and it abruptly ends on a cliffhanger; that’s what I ended up doing. It bothers me a lot that I have an incomplete story, that the people who decided to read my work are left with a bitter taste in their mouths.

My drive to write my web novel went away as time went on. In May 2022, I had just finished my third semester of Cybersecurity courses and still felt I had a lot to learn so I took a break from writing to focus on my field. I told myself that I would create a backlog so I could continue again but I was honestly fed up. I was comparing myself to other serial writers who were successful, those getting paid on subscription platforms. So I decided to focus on school, on something that would actually provide me with monetary means of living and paying for life. I also got tired of the idea and wanted to write other things. Looking back during this time, I don’t think I wrote much except for the occasional short story, poem, or chapter here and there. It makes me sad to think about sometimes.

Reframed:

Writing a web novel made me a better writer. I’m a discovery writer where I make things up as I go but I’ve become more mindful of the things that I write. I think more of the characters I create, how they look, their wants and needs; they’re more distinct now, fleshed out. I put more thought into setting, realizing its equal importance compared to other story elements. I’m also a lot more considerate of plot, making sure I have a concrete sense of where a story is headed instead of beating my head against the wall. I’m also more organized, compiling all this information together, simply making sure I have these basic elements down before I get too into a story.

I’m more appreciative of those who can write consistently, to publish chapters that have the same level of quality as the others. I realized that I’m not at all like this; it usually takes me some time and effort to write something I’m proud of since I’m just very meticulous.

I’m trying to work on my webnovel again and although the spark isn’t as brightly there, I still have a spark nevertheless. I’m planning on either setting a year-long backlog (52 whopping chapters) or just completing it and allowing my readers to have a resolution to the story I started. I’ll probably stick back to traditional writing once I finish this work of mine.

I’ve never been in a serious relationship

This is embarrassing to talk about but if anyone knows me, then they know I’m single as fuck and, because of that, I don’t think it makes it any different in declaring it so for all to see. This also counts toward being more vulnerable and open in life, and I know others can relate so this is for them too :)

I’ve essentially been single my entire life to the point I can count the number of dates I’ve gone on with different people still on one hand. It’s an interesting thing to be single for so long. Sometimes I feel my reasonings behind it are just a bunch of excuses but I do somewhat believe I have been better off being alone.

I gave and still give myself so many different reasons for never dating. Stuff like “I don’t have the time”, “I don’t have money”, “I don’t have the energy and commitment to date”, “I have school to focus on”, “I don’t want to experience heartbreak”, “I’ll always have time for that later”, and “I’m just focusing on myself.” These are all valid reasons but when do they stop being valid and start being actual excuses?

Reframed:

I grew up most of my life being quiet so I never quite developed the necessary social skills to talk to people. Saying things like ‘hello’, making eye contact, and holding conversations were things I severely struggled with. I still struggle with it a bit but it’s way better, especially when compared to high school and early college years. I struggled to make friends, people I would spend time with in settings that weren’t explicitly within school or work. I knew that if I couldn’t do those things then how could I possibly think about dating another person so I focused on improving myself. I also didn’t like the concept of breaking up with someone just to end up alone with no friends.

I feel like I have a lot of genuine connections now, to the point I’m comfortable in branching out into dating. Surprisingly, now that I think about it, I have multiple friend groups. The prominent ones are the people from high school and university, but I also have friends from my community college although I don’t spend much time with them. I’m also fortunate enough to be very close to my cousins so I have them as well.

Having an abundance of connections hasn’t always been the case and I’ve had many uncomfortable conversations with people in attempts to make friends. Fortunately, I’m now able to more easily tell when people don’t like my company and so I just move on to people that do. I’ve also realized very recently that some friends are only friends during certain situations and that’s perfectly fine.

It’s also easy to forget about the hurt I had growing up, the loneliness of not being able to connect with others. Bitterness, resentment, and self-hate, among other things, were present in my life even though I did try to reach out to others. I just felt so disconnected. I needed time to figure things out and while, yes, I could have done that with someone else, I do think I needed time to myself.

It’s interesting to think about my journey, and how I’ve been so focused on making friends, in being able to interact with others. It’s been a long journey but I’m really comfortable with myself and who I am now. I don’t think I would be so independent and strive for as much growth if it weren’t for the moments I spent alone.

Dating is an interesting thing for me currently. I’m in no rush but I still do experience bouts of loneliness from time to time. It’s confusing because I often wonder if I’m continuing to avoid dating or if I’m truly okay with being by myself.

I’ve asked a couple of people out on dates way back in early college. Not sure the reason why I stopped trying but I remember feeling my energy drain whenever I would try to talk to someone new or whenever I had to navigate my feelings for someone. I also felt that I was dating for the wrong reasons, and felt that I didn’t understand what was truly expected out of a relationship. I didn’t think I could commit myself to somebody else just like that.

I don’t think it would have hurt if I just asked a few people out. I’m sure that there were people who wanted me to make a move, some that I know of, but I was too oblivious or too focused on bettering myself that I failed to realize that I could have grown alongside someone.

Just this year, I ended up shooting my shot for the first time in forever, albeit it was on Instagram. Her profile was in my recommended section and I saw her at our graduation ceremony; I had always had an interest in her, so I figured I would message her to see if there was any interest. I got left on sent but I’m glad I did do that. I don’t usually do those types of things so this was a big first step to getting out of my comfort zone and doing something new.

A few months later, I shot my shot with someone I felt a connection with. I asked her out on a date through text admitting my feelings and wanting to get to know her better, and I got rejected. She was nice about it, but I’m also really happy I did tell her. Because it had been eating away at my thoughts and the clarity, the rejection, it absolved me from them. Well, at least for the most part lol. At the end of the day, a rejection is still a rejection and I had to sit with those feelings for a while. If I were younger, I don’t think I would have navigated through those before and after feelings as healthily.

This rejection made me more mindful of the people I ask out. My interest was considerably lower for the graduation girl but for this one, I think it was my first genuine crush/interest in years. It made me more cognizant of what I want in my dating life, how much time and energy I’m willing to put on another person who isn’t just me.

I feel I’m healthier in my approach to dating where I’m able to think more clearly (thank you fully developed frontal lobe). It sounds like a cope sometimes but I do enjoy my own company and sometimes I do wonder if I’m even ready for a relationship or even know what I want out of one.

I don’t feel much physical attraction to most people, not to say I don’t find people physically attractive and find it important, but I really could care less about someone unless I actually know them. This puts me in a tough spot with dating apps and with cold-approaching people. Swiping through profiles, approaching people just based on their looks, and seeking others initially based solely on their appearance irks me so much.

Or is this just another one of my excuses? Because I went to an event a couple of months ago and I did find someone attractive, and I did approach them for that reason, and I did feel I was able to develop a connection with them.

I suppose it also has to do with the environment I was raised in, the relationships I would see and interact with growing up, the ‘love’ others around me would show. I think because of that, I’d rather be single and die alone than be with someone not good for me. Sometimes the loneliness does hurt but honestly, it’s better than trying to force something that isn’t right.

Maybe I’m afraid of getting my heart broken, of being with someone not meant for me. Maybe I just haven’t found someone that I’m willing to commit my time and energy to.

So maybe I’m just navigating this strange, new world with these preconceptions. Maybe this is all just to show me that my dating life is very new despite the experiences I’ve had, maybe that’s the reason for all this confusion. As with making friends, it took time to find lasting connections, and I should expect nothing different in the pursuit of my forever person. I guess I’ll just have to continue to put myself out there and see what happens.

I don’t have many failures

My entire life I was so used to being reprimanded for making mistakes. I was raised on “Don’t fail” to the point I would avoid doing anything at all. It still translates to today where I struggle to take action sometimes, to be the first one to make a move, to be the one to initiate.

I could have decided to pursue a Cybersecurity degree right out of high school, not allow others to choose my path, and not allow the so-called ‘competition’ intimidate me. I could have started publishing my writing online back in high school, not let my fear of sharing my writing hinder me. I could have asked that one girl out, allowed myself to be vulnerable with another person. I didn’t do all that, but I kind of wish I did at times.

I didn’t switch to Cybersecurity until my brother told me he was changing his major. I didn’t publish my writing online until I realized others were doing it. I didn’t try asking that one girl out until I was given confirmation from other people. I do things only when prompted by others. It’s something I’m working on but I do want to stop asking for permission and go for what I want in life.

When you don’t try, there’s no punishment but the pain that comes from not doing anything.

Reframed:

Where I am now, I’m more eager to make mistakes and fail because it’s these moments that I grow the most. I sometimes get sad for myself, for not pursuing the things that I want in life but to have gotten to this point, to realize what I was okay with failing in, I had to fail miserably.

It’s curious to think that my greatest failure in life is not having many failures. I’ve been more conscious about having more of them, taking first steps, and looking stupid. Learning from failures rejuvenates my soul, makes me learn so I do better for the next time. I wish I had this mindset when I was younger, I wish the people I interacted with throughout my youth and those that raised me had this mindset. Or maybe I have more failures than I realize and I just don’t fully realize it. I’m sure I’ll think of more of them, what I consider to be a failure, as the days go on.

Failure is not bad. What is bad is living a life with regrets, thinking about the what-ifs instead of the things someone faithfully chose to do. Here’s to more failures in life; I hope I have many more to learn from.