I Can Live With Failures… But I Can’t Live With What Ifs

For most of my life, failure felt like a death sentence.

Every time I failed – whether it was in school, relationships, jobs, my recovery, or the countless projects I’ve taken on – it felt like proof that I wasn’t cut out for life. That I was somehow defective. That voice in my head would echo: “See? I told you so. You’re never going to get it right.”

I’d carry the shame of those failures like cement blocks tied to my ankles, dragging me down with every step forward.

Back then, I thought failing meant I was a failure. I didn’t understand that failure was just data – information on what didn’t work, so I could pivot, adjust, and grow. Instead, I’d internalize every misstep as a character flaw.

But as I’ve gotten older, and through the lessons of recovery, faith, and relentless trial and error, my thinking has shifted.

Because here’s the thing: I’ve failed more times than I can count. I’ve lost jobs, burned bridges, sabotaged relationships, ruined opportunities, and let myself down repeatedly. I’ve had business ideas flop, creative projects get ignored, and moments where I thought “this is it” – only for it to crash and burn spectacularly.

Yet I’m still here. I’m still standing. I’m still trying.

And every single one of those failures has taught me something invaluable. Each one showed me a blind spot. Each one built resilience I didn’t know I had. Each one forced me to grow in ways comfort and success never could.

But you know what I can’t live with?

The “what ifs.”

What if I never start this? What if I never tell them how I feel? What if I never put my work out there? What if I stay silent, stay hidden, stay small?

“What if” is a haunting thought. It gnaws at me late at night and weighs heavy in my chest in the quiet moments. It’s regret. It’s knowing I could have tried but didn’t. That I chose comfort over courage. That I let fear make decisions for me.

And honestly, that is far more damaging to my mental state than any failure ever could be. Failure stings for a while, but regret lingers for a lifetime.

So these days, I’d rather take the risk. I’d rather fall on my face a hundred times than sit in the false safety of never trying. I’d rather put my art, my words, my ideas, my love, my vulnerability out into the world and risk rejection – because at least I’ll know.

I’ll know I tried. I’ll know I gave it my all. I’ll know I lived with courage instead of caution.

Because failure is not the opposite of success – it’s part of it. But regret… regret is the true enemy of a fulfilled life.

So today, I choose failure over “what if.” I choose the pain of trying over the numbness of never knowing.

And that choice, every single day, is what keeps me alive, growing, and becoming who I was meant to be.