Scar(R)ed No More

I have this perennial fear of failing. For as long as I can remember, I have always been afraid to fail not just myself but other people as well, especially my loved ones.

I know there are times when failing is inevitable. It is simply a part of life. Reality would not have been clearly delineated if we do not experience failure at some points of our lives. But what I really fear is the disappointment my failure would cause to anyone. It pains me to be disappointed by the people I believe in and so I try so hard, do my best, to live up to their expectations, no matter how high these expectations are. Or sometimes, how silly.

When I was in high school, one of my life’s utmost humiliations transpired. You see, I was a consistent honor student since my nursery years. I always did well in school, even excelled in almost all my subjects, except Math. I always belonged to the top section but this was only until my 3rd year in high school as in my senior year, I was put in section 2. I was aghast. Mad, even. Mad is actually an understatement as in a phase of raging hormones and blatant rebellion, hate prevailed. I hated the school’s system. And some teachers, especially the principal. I hated some classmates. Hated almost everyone, even my family. But most of all, I hated myself. I hated and blamed myself for letting a lot of people down. For letting myself down.

The event left me scarred. And scared. Of failing. Of it happening again. Of disappointing people. And then hating and blaming myself for it. From then on, I did my damnedest to always excel in everything. If prior to the incident I was already an achiever, after it, I was more so it was scary as I seemed to be obsessed with always coming out a winner in each and every event I allowed myself to participate in. Allowed being the operative word as from then on, I took only calculated risks. I was so hellbent on achieving success that if there were what they call the cream of the crop, I wanted to be the cream of the cream of the crop.

Looking deep down into myself, I realized that aside from not wanting to disappoint my loved ones, I fear failure because I equated success with people’s capacity for love. I thought that if I fail, my loved ones will love me less. Or that my peers will not like me just as much. Such utterly stupid rationale. Because for these past years, no matter how many times I have been let down by my loved ones, I love them just the same. I even love them more in their times of failure as in those times, they are in utmost need of love. Of the reassurance that their worth does not diminish when life deals them with one of its blows. That they are loved and accepted as they are, no matter what, come what may.

Disappointments and failure do hurt. But in the past years, I learned that like failure, disappointment is as much a part of our lives as breathing. That for each endeavor we take, there is the possibility of failing and feelings of disappointment are just but natural reaction to it. Life is a gamble and if we do not make the first move of taking the risk, we cannot win.

I am no longer bound by failure’s ties. I expunge any fear I have of it. It may have left its scars on me but the scars are gradually healing.

I am also no longer scared. I am now free. From this point on, I will allow myself the total freedom to stumble once in a while. Each experience has its lessons for us and in some cases, failure is often the best teacher.

I embrace any possibility of failure. For I am scarred with and scared of it no more.

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