Failures

When I was in graduate school I dated a guy who kept all of his rejection letters because it was "character building." At least, that is what he called it. I called him delusional. While failing is character building, in an extreme psychotic optimistic point of view, hanging onto those unsubtle reminders of your shortcomings, is not.

I have to remind myself that the Universe or God or whatever has a plan. Que Sera Sera, right? This is an easy life motto to have when things are going your way, but it sucks rotten eggs when you don't get what you really want.

When I was rejected from a job I really wanted this past week, I debated about blogging my experience. Why pour lemon juice, salt, and carbonic acid into my already gaping wound in front of the masses? I should instead go quietly into the night and lick my wounds in private only to emerge with a small scar later and pretend like nothing ever happened. That was my first instinct. Let my failures be private; let my successes be public. However, that's not real.

Real is the feeling of being ashamed and embarrassed by not being awarded the position. "The" position, mind you, not just "a" position. That was my first reaction. Its raw and ugly, but its real. I can console myself by stating that there is a reason why I didn't get it; reasons I don't know now, but it is for the best. I can also re-frame things into a place of self-reflection as to what the larger meaning is behind this and what life lesson I need to learn.

Self-reflection can often quickly spiral down to self-massacre. Examining every detail of the exchange, revising answers to questions, analyzing minutia from degree qualifications down to simple interview wardrobe selection. The process is nauseating and disheartening. And then, you get to the real meat of the issue: Is this really what I wanted? Did I really believe that this would not just make me happy, but bring fulfillment in my life?

If I were to have succeeded in securing this role, I would not have questioned anything. I would have opened a bottle of champagne, taken myself out to a nice restaurant, and reconstructed the budget to allow small indulgences. A gift for myself, I would rationalize, because I deserve it. But did I really? If I had succeeded I would not have learned anything. And that, would be the ultimate failure.