"Failure" is a Misconception & My Acrophobia Illustrates Why

Acrophobia = Fear of Heights

Yeah, that makes my palms sweaty just looking at it...

But what does acrophobia have to do with failure?

Let’s start with a story...

From a young age, I loved diving. I only ever saw the high-dive in movies, but I romanticized it, certain I’d feel some awesome crescendo once I finally dove off one.

I finally got that chance as a teenager, at roughly 15 years old.

It was the first pool I'd been to with a high-dive. There was only one high-dive though, so naturally, there was a huge line.

I waited, dutifully, with my best friend, so excited to finally have an experience that I had wanted ever since I first started swimming.

When it came to be my turn, I climbed the ladder, giddy, as I ascended to the very top. I got up there, thrilled, ready to feel that rush of air, to look down and compare all the people to bugs, like I did in the window seat of an airplane —

Only once I did look down, something changed in me.

I felt the slight shake and tremble of the diving board beneath my feet and the lack of stability terrified me.

I tried to shake it off. People had been diving off the board all day... Clearly, I just had to trust my own sense of balance and proceed!

...I just couldn’t.

And the ground only seemed to get further away from me the more I looked at it.

My palms got sweaty. Heat emanated from my skin. And my body didn’t want to move. It was frozen. I couldn’t breathe.

How would you handle such a moment? Maybe you’d say, "Yeah, it’s scary, but just suck it up and go."

Me… I tried to suck it up and go. I told myself to do exactly that, but my body didn’t listen.

I told my body to move again and again and when it still didn't budge, I got mad. Not outwardly mad, I didn’t curse the sky or anything like that. I got mad at myself. I released an onslaught of judgmental and mean thoughts on myself.

"You’re so stupid."

"What’s wrong with you?"

"Just go, already!!!"

I’m a proud person. Under no circumstance was I going to go back down the ladder, in front of all those people in line. No way in hell.

So I said as much — in my internal monologue — to my body.

“Deal with it.”

“We’re just going to go.”

I took a breath, steeled myself, and went to move forward —

But my body didn’t like being talked to that way.

Not one bit.

And I learned that, in an argument, my body actually holds all the cards. I realized this too late, of course – after my legs gave out and collapsed beneath me.

They were jelly — insecure, floppy, and absolutely refusing to move forward.

I sat there, at the apex of the high dive, trying to move my legs, yelling at myself that this was ridiculous — “The whole point is to jump off you dumb-ass. Even if I were to fall before getting to the edge, it’s still the goal to FALL AT the edge.”

I was so angry at myself. So mad at my body for failing me.

And still, too proud to even consider turning back, completely refusing to hear out my body's fear.

Turns out I have a crippling fear of heights.

And I mean crippling.

I couldn’t walk!

I finally found a compromise with my body. It would not support my weight if I stood, no, but if I crawled, it would allow that. A lower center of gravity seemed acceptable!

I crawled to the edge and did a knee dive off. It felt like finishing a race, long after everyone else already had...

The lifeguard promptly yelled at me, to which I simply nodded and smiled.

...How would I even begin to explain all that I had just gone through?

What It Means

Today, I find myself remembering that moment more and more, particularly as I try and confront my own perfectionism and fear of success. I mean, fear of heights is a pretty basic parallel to fear of success …

And the funny thing is, I’ve always loved roller coasters. The higher, the better. The faster, the better. Upside down, twirl, thrill me, excite me, I’ve always loved that adrenaline rush.

In a roller coaster, I have metal beams holding my body in, no matter how much I ricochet around in there. The track stands on stilts, that haven't fallen yet, no matter how flimsy they look. Even a skyscraper has a thick window or guardrail to provide security and safety.

But up there, on that high dive … I only had my own legs. Myself. And my self let me down.

The part that always gets me is that I wasn’t afraid to fall. I wasn’t afraid to dive off into the water. That wasn’t the part that scared me. I had no problem jumping off from a knee dive! And no fear once I was falling, mid-air.

No, I was just afraid to fall wrong. As if there was a wrong way to fall. And a lack of trust in myself that I would avoid it.

I knew I would fall. Eventually. I knew that diving off was the whole point! My body was fine jumping into the abyss, but it was scared to walk to the edge... Why? Did it think I might fall on the walk across the beam?

I suppose I get it. There's some clear “right way” to fall and “wrong way” to fall.

I don’t think life is that different. Especially for anyone dealing with perfectionism and fear of success.

What does success mean to you? Is it selling a screenplay or manuscript? Booking a major job? Having a video go viral? Writing a song that’s #1 on Billboard? Winning a Vocal challenge?

In all these examples, you’ve got to put energy into something, you’ve got to trust yourself, and then you’ve got to let it go.

That’s what we perfectionists are really afraid of — not failure – letting go.

That’s the fall. The release.

No matter what, all that energy and heart and soul you put into that song/screenplay/novel/article/audition will fall away from you. You know, in your heart, you'll have to release it sometime. You just want to release it “in the right away.”

You wait for it, grip onto it... You know you'll let it go.

You know you'll fall.

But you want to fall at the right moment. In the right way.

You Want To Succeed

If you were asked to describe the relationship between Success and Failure, I’m pretty sure most people would consider them obvious opposites. Antonyms.

I don’t think that’s right.

A fail is a fall.

But a success is a fall too.

We hear those inspirational quotes all the time like:

I never once failed at making a light bulb. I just found out 99 ways not to make one.

— Thomas Edison

Fall down 7 times, get up 8.

— Japanese Proverb

You must fail 100 times to succeed once.

— Sylvester Stallone and Rakesh Surana

These quotes are like diet soda to a perfectionist’s brain — STILL part of the problem.

At least, they always have been to me.

It's not just 100 fails = 1 success. No, because the distinction between the two is arbitrary. In the right light, they might be identical.

Because success is technically a fail too. The same way a dive is technically still a fall if at least a graceful one. Something had to be released, it had to be let go. The creator had to walk away from it.

Something both arbitrary and very specific distinguishes what kind of fall is okay and what kind of fall is not.

That wasn't the case for Thomas Edison. Thomas Edison had a tangible result. The light bulb either produced light or it didn't. That's why he could say he found 99 ways to not make one.

But a lot of our pursuits in the modern world are not as clear-cut or straightforward, which is why we get bogged down in some arbitrary equivalent.

"Winning a challenge" will mean success. "Making $x.xx" will mean success. "Getting an Oscar" will mean success.

That's like trying to make a light bulb that only some people can see... None of those goals equate to a light bulb that objectively works. They could all just as easily be the light bulb that doesn't work.

They could all just as easily be reframed as failures. "You only won one Challenge? You only made $x.xx?"

But how do you reframe a working light bulb in a negative light? (As long as there’s any light, you can’t...)

Our goals aren't binary. They're not light bulbs.

Even if we think we’ll be happy landing in some specific way — just once — we also know, deep down, that question “What’s next?” will be soon behind. Do I jump again? Will it be as good? Can it be better?

When people say "you can’t succeed if you don’t know how to fail," they’re right.

But what they’re missing is how much more integrated and connected the relationship between the two constructs actually is.

We think of them like opposite ends of the spectrum, but they’re not opposites at all.

They’re actually one in the same.

Does a “perfect” dive look perfect from EVERY angle? There’s always going to be someone from SOME angle that has a criticism.

Success IS failure. Failure IS success. It’s not one or the other. Every failure has some sort of success wrapped up in it. Every success has some sort of failure wrapped up in it.

An 'overnight success' is also a potential one-hit-wonder.

Every masterpiece has a critical review.

Every creator loses something when they put their creation out there in the world. They’re diving into the water, hoping they’re diving in the right way, the elegant way, the way that no one will ever see as a fall.

And to those of us that are mesmerized, inspired, and ready to try to do the same thing — we never will see it as a fall.

Not until we let ourselves fall as well.

"Failure" needs to be redefined. Anyone who "failed" really just released something great and meaningful to them and moved on. They let it go. They leaped! And how they landed is irrelevant, because regardless, they first needed to let go and leap, whether it’s to "fail," or whether it’s to “succeed."

The actual difference between success and failure is neither tangible nor objective. It’s letting go that’s the hurdle.

I don’t agree that "failures" take us “one step closer” to "success."

Failures ARE successes.

Fail = Succeed | Succeed = Fail | They're synonyms!

So fail.

Fall.

Jump.

Let go.

And do it proudly. Enjoy it!

‘Cause no matter what, you’re going to fall. That's just gravity!

If you enjoyed this article, please share the link, like it, or leave a tip! I recommend it to any and all perfectionists, unable to start their next big project, and I hope it gives some inspiration and freedom to their creative endeavors.