Rewriting Failure - The Bravest and Best Step

Hannah Brown

Photography by Victoria Strukovskaya via Unsplash

By definition alone, failure’s a negative word. Who wants to fail in life? Who wants to try, try again and then try even harder only to fail? Who wants to be the one to be picked last in games or to come bottom of the class, time and time again? Perfectionist or not, no-one likes to fail.

It’s become almost a habitual part of my psyche to believe I fail everyday. It’s a relentless cycle but nevertheless part of my life I have almost come to accept. I fail. Constantly.

With a diagnosis of Anorexia Nervosa by the age of 23, I can list the things that I have failed in:

1. My relationship and our engagement – a failure on my part of such epic stature, the consequences still break my heart.
2. My studies – a First Class Law degree with a potentially glistening, high-flying career now left in the gutter. All that money wasted on tuition.
3. As a daughter – I failed to be the promising and beautiful daughter they dreamt of…

I could go on. But to be honest, it seems a little pointless.

These debilitating feelings of failure are nothing more than a hindrance to my mental health and wellbeing; they get in the way and, to be brutally honest, they’re a hideous waste of time.

My eating disorder makes me feel like a failure.

If I succeed at eating well and nutritiously – intuitively and with freedom – I have simultaneously failed my best friend, Miss Ana. Contrast that with choosing to restrict and befriend Miss Ana in the first place and I find I’ve failed myself – the true me. That’s the hardest failure to comprehend.

The cycle’s exhausting and relentless. The subconscious debate between euphoria at recovery, juxtaposed with the inevitable come-down of failing, is overwhelming and complex. It’s a minefield of emotions that feels almost impossible to navigate.

“Perhaps failure means that we care.”

But perhaps rather than focusing on overcoming these feelings, I have to learn to redefine what failure actually means. Perhaps failure means that we care.

If something didn’t matter, if it didn’t truly matter, then we wouldn’t feel so awful about failing at it. To fail at something can also remind us we need to keep going. To feel down about not achieving something should encourage us to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves down and damn well try again.

“To get back up, not to start again, but to try again.”

For me, every mouthful and meal is a win to be celebrated. No matter how small a win may seem,  every time we perceive ourselves to have failed we have the opportunity to learn from it, to grow and develop our understanding of self. To get back up, not to start again, but to try again. Failure is not the end. It could just be another beginning or the continuation of a blossoming journey.

Every time I win in my life, I fail at being anorexic. And whilst my head is in a good safe place, this failure is the best form. But it’s in those moments when I’m doubting recovery that failing anorexia seems the worst thing ever.

Gaining perspective is so much easier said than done. I have to constantly remind myself what the goal is. What am I fighting for, who am I fighting for and what does failure actually mean? By reflecting on these questions, I have a new list… I’ve put it in writing, to stick on the fridge and the back of the toilet, so I can remind myself every single day that:

1. I AM RECOVERING FROM MY EATING DISORDER
2. I AM RECREATING MY LIFE
3. I AM HANNAH, AND I AM WINNING AT BEING ME

Redefine your failure, rewrite it to learn from it and work with its teachings.

Because failure is not final. You are not final.