Self-Compassion as an Antidote for Failure

I can’t say I know someone who enjoys failing.

You’re far more likely to come across someone who hates failure. Someone who bends over backwards to avoid failure because failing feels like the end of the world.

It’s me. I’m that someone.

Or, at least, I was.

Only recently have I realised I might not be one of those people anymore.

Let me set the scene for you.

I love to bake. I picked it up as a hobby in 2020 when we were all scrambling to figure out how to spend all that time locked up at home.

And as much as I love baking, I love doing it for my family and friends that much more. Whenever there’s a birthday or another special occasion, I’m always thinking about what I can bake to celebrate

“Siobhan, what does this have to do with anything?”

I’m getting there.

Recently, a friend of mine was celebrating a birthday so, naturally, I wanted to make some cupcakes for her. I was trying out a new recipe but, by this point, I’d baked many batches of cupcakes so I was confident they’d turn out great.

You already know where I’m going with this.

It was the second-worst baking fail I’d ever had.

(First place goes to the first time I tried to make pound cake but we won’t open that can of worms today.)

It was the morning of the day I was seeing my friend, so I was a little flustered. I also got a little distracted and mixed up some of the measurements. But the pièce de résistance? I forgot to add sugar.

I forgot to add sugar to cupcakes.

I cannot express to you how gross these cupcakes were.

It was so gross that I wondered if they would’ve tasted good even if I had followed the recipe properly.

But as much as I would’ve loved to point fingers at the recipe, I had failed.

It was a minor failure, a failure that came about because of some careless mistakes. And not much was riding on these cupcakes in the grand scheme of things.

But there was a point in my life where I would have torn myself to absolute shreds over something like this.

I would’ve told myself things like, “are you stupid? How could you have let this happen? Have you never baked before in your life?” and made myself feel really small.

You know what I did instead?

I told my family what had happened, laughed it off, and then started thinking about what I could make for my friend instead*.

And that’s when I realised that failure does not have to be this dreadful thing. It’s not wonderful, especially depending on what’s at stake, but it does not have to be devastating.

It’s what we assign to failure that gives it weight.

If we’re wrapping our desire for success in our feelings of self-worth, we’re going to fear failure because it makes us feel like garbage. But if you take all that extra stuff out of the equation, failure doesn’t have to be anything more than some disappointment and an opportunity to learn.

Failure is inevitable. We can’t avoid it but we can choose how we respond to it.

I didn’t agonise over my failure, because I immediately forgave myself for failing. And failure has very little power in the face of even the smallest amount of self-compassion.

Failure might feel like the end of the world, but it very rarely is.

While we’re dealing with the fallout of failure, we can take some comfort in the fact that our failure does not define us. And, by showing ourselves a little mercy, soothe some of the ache that failing can leave us with.

Until next time,

Siobhan K.

(*I baked my friend brownies. She loved them.)