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It’s the last week of November, which means, at least here in the United States, we pause to give thanks before the harried rush of the holiday season.
I’m thankful for so many things: a family that loves me unconditionally, a business partner who is beyond supportive, friends who accept me despite my many flaws, and clients who work with brandivate because they feel – as we do – that the work we do on their behalf matters. I could go on with a long list, but that’s for another blog. I wanted to focus on something I’m truly grateful for, which will likely surprise many of you.
I’m thankful for failure.
That’s right, I’m beyond thankful for my personal and professional mistakes – even the publicly embarrassing ones. No one is perfect, and I’m at the front of the express lane of goofs and gaffes. To keep the focus on the professional part of me, I’ve forgotten about meetings, stumbled my way through presentations, been “invited to pursue career excellence elsewhere” by my boss (my term for being fired), omitted words from client advertisements, and dropped the ball in hiring people causing my employer thousands of dollars. Even so, I remain profoundly thankful for all of those screw-ups.
The reason is quite simple: without failure and, more importantly, the opportunity to learn from it, I wouldn’t grow as a person. I’d be stuck being the version of myself that I was at 30, 40, or even 50. Every time I make a mistake, stumble, or just flat-out fail, I do three things:
I own it and accept responsibility: no finger-pointing, no excuses, no blame to anyone except me.
I apologize openly, honestly, and directly.
I look back to learn everything I can to ensure the mistake doesn’t repeat itself and communicate my findings back to the aggrieved party.
While I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished (so far) in my career and don’t look back with any real regrets, the version of me typing this blog is the best version of me. For that to have happened, I need to acknowledge the role failure has played in whatever success I’ve achieved. Candidly, I hope to be a better human next week, next month, and next year because I work exceptionally hard at learning from failure. It took me a very long time to find the mental headspace and, frankly, the confidence to take this approach. I’m profoundly glad that I embraced it.
So, as this week unfolds and we gather with family and friends to express gratitude, I humbly suggest you give a metaphorical tip of the cap to the lessons learned from your mistakes. They truly make you better.