Failure: The New Success

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who fail and those who succeed. I’m a failure. I can fail at anything that’s put in front of me. It isn’t a conscious decision. Failure is what I was born to do.

I’ve failed at jobs, relationships, conformity. I live paycheck-to-paycheck. I have yet to learn how to cook anything on a stove because contrary to popular belief, my female genitalia do not make me a natural in the kitchen. And at 25 years old I’m single, which must mean I have a hidden crazy streak or there is something inherently wrong with me. According to many, failure is what I do best.

Success was never for me. Success is for people who are rude to grocery baggers, disillusioned by a false sense of superiority. Success is for people who hang out at country clubs and tell the waitresses to smile. Success is for those who boast about their seaside homes and all the expensive stuff inside them.

Success can be overrated — and it won’t always get us where we want to be.

We equate success with money, power, thriving startups and Bill Gates. We see success as the finish line, some attainable, tangible goal. Once we’ve reached it, we’ve won.

“You’ve got to play the role to get the part,” my boyfriend said. I stared at the shinny BMW sitting in our driveway. He was convinced the car would earn him points with the big boys. Maybe land him a promotion.

“That’s the way it works, babe.”

My boyfriend was known for the “themed” dinner parties he threw in his four bedroom house on the beach. With plenty of caviar and fancy champagne, his twenty thousand dollar credit card debt went unnoticed. No one ever thought that behind such a ‘successful man’ there was failure.

Misconceptions about success have been driven into our psychological constructs, and it ‘s ruining our lives. This can be a crippling realization for those who have devoted their lives to climbing the corporate ladder. Make money, Become powerful and look good doing it.

The term success should be reserved for people who live by the code of originality and invention for the good of the world and for their own wellbeing.

“I’m stressed out.” My roommate, a Wall Street banker, rubbed his temples as though he was having a mental hernia.

I was surprised by his openness as we rarely spoke due to our innate personality differences. I didn’t know much about him aside from his obsession with loafers, cocaine and Sunday brunch.

“I wake up at five every morning and sit at my desk from 9 a.m. till midnight. My hair is falling out. I haven’t had sex in months.”

He massaged the bald spot on his head.

“So quit,” I said. Seemed the obvious thing to do.

“Quit?” He looked at me like I had insulted his loafers. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to get this job. I can’t quit.”

He stomped away leaving behind the scent of bad cologne lingering in my nostrils. I wanted to grab him by his bow tie and shake out the years of conditioning that led him such unhappiness.

Why isn’t happiness the main ingredient in our recipe for success? Why is quitting a job that leaves us stressed out and bald and celibate so unfathomable? The problem with the ‘work hard, make money, gain power’ formula is that we never stop to ask ourselves if we are happy and fulfilled. Instead, we ask if we are rich and powerful.

Happiness is not a process. We think that once we read the self-help book, or find our soul mate, or land the job – -then we will be happy. Not true. In fact, if we associate happiness with something we don’t already possess, we are doomed. Happiness is an extemporary decision. Happy people don’t have the best of everything; they make the best of everything.

Tangible success will unfold on it’s own if we are living an authentic life.

“Damned is the man who abandons himself.” The wise words of Ramundo Arruda Sobrinho, a 77 year old homeless man who spent his days covered in dirt, living in garbage bags pursing the love of his life: poetry. His words went unnoticed until the day he befriended a woman who helped him to get his work published. It wasn’t until he gained recognition as a poet that society recognized him as a success.

Webster defines success as the fact of getting or achieving wealth, respect, or fame.
If failure is the opposite of success, does failure mean lack of money, power and notoriety?

I am not rich. I am not powerful. I don’t have a 401K or investments in the stock market. I drive a 2004 Jeep Wrangler and share a tiny three-bedroom with two friends and a Chihuahua named Lottie. I work several odd jobs to pursue my passion, which is writing.

I started to think this meant I wasn’t successful — or smart, or talented, or good enough, all because I didn’t have a job title or a disposable income. So I went out in the world and got one.

I took a job as a creative producer in Los Angeles. As a ‘creative’ I assumed I would be creating–as long as I abided by company guidelines and did exactly as I was told. For eight months I sat at a desk from nine to five. Good salary, beautiful office, full medical. People promised this path would bring fulfillment, purpose, and happiness.

No one ever said anything about wanting to staple your mouth shut and die a slow death from asphyxiation. So I quit.

Unlike Cybil.

“I just got offered the brand manager position!” My friend Cybil called to tell me about her new career. She was struggling to make rent as a photographer so she traded her camera for a briefcase. She pretended to be excited.

“What about your photography?”

Pause.

“Had to let go of that dream,” she said. “Business wasn’t cutting it.”

Oh.

Self-doubt began to settle in like an unwelcomed family friend on Christmas. I hadn’t written a damn thing that made over fifty dollars yet. Never should have quit my nine to five, I thought.

There must be more to living a successful life than earning money and being promoted to an office with a view, right? I looked at my desk: ramen noodles, a notebook, a stack of unpaid bills.

Maybe not.

But I knew I wouldn’t be happy if I gave up on my dream. Plus, I liked ramen.

It seems we spend our lives trying to attain happiness through money and power. What we don’t realize is that the very thing for which we have sold our souls has been in our possession the entire time.

As the poet Rumi suggests, we are all like fish driven by thirst. Unaware that we are already immersed in the thing we seek, we flail around helplessly when all we need to do is swim.

As I see it, failure is merely the first stage of success. And if we are living an authentic life, happiness unfolds by itself.