What If I Was Never Afraid of Failure?
- Julie Quizon
- 1 day ago
- 3 min read
What If I Was Never Afraid of Failure?
The Question That Changed Everything
For most of my life, I believed I was afraid of failure.
It seemed like a reasonable explanation.
After all, I had unfinished projects.
Unlaunched ideas.
Websites sitting quietly in draft mode.
Products waiting on shelves.
Dreams tucked away in notebooks.
Evidence everywhere.
At least that's what it looked like.
But during my spring cleaning, I discovered something unexpected.
When I looked at my life honestly, failure didn't seem to fit the story.
Because I have failed before.
And every single time, I got back up.
I failed my first nursing licensing exam.
I cried.
I doubted myself.
I questioned everything.
Then I studied again.
Tried again.
Passed.
If I was afraid of failure, I would have stopped there.
But I didn't.
I moved across countries.
Started businesses.
Returned to school.
Raised a child.
Learned new skills.
Built new dreams.
Started over more times than I can count.
People who are truly afraid of failure don't usually keep starting over.
So perhaps failure was never the real fear.
Then what was?
That question followed me all week.
And eventually an answer appeared.
Quietly.
The way truth often does.
What if I wasn't afraid of failing?
What if I was afraid of being hurt?
Because when I look back, some of the biggest turning points in my life weren't failures at all.
They were betrayals.
Times I trusted.
Times I believed.
Times I opened my heart.
Only to discover not everyone was cheering for me.
Some people were competing with me.
Some people misunderstood me.
Some people projected their fears onto me.
Some people saw my light and became uncomfortable with it.
Those experiences leave marks.
Not always visible ones.
But marks nonetheless.
The kind that quietly whisper:
Be careful.
Don't stand out too much.
Don't get too excited.
Don't get too successful.
Don't get noticed.
Because if people notice you, they can hurt you.
I never consciously believed those things.
But perhaps a younger version of me did.
And perhaps she has been quietly protecting me ever since.
Not sabotaging me.
Protecting me.
There is a difference.
One comes from fear.
The other comes from love.
Even if it is misguided love.
Because every protective part of us was created for a reason.
No child wakes up and decides to hide.
Something teaches them.
Something hurts them.
Something convinces them that being visible isn't safe.
And so they adapt.
They shrink.
They postpone.
They overthink.
They wait.
Not because they are lazy.
Because they are trying to survive.
Looking back now, I realize something beautiful.
The part of me that delayed my dreams was never my enemy.
She was my bodyguard.
A very tired bodyguard.
One who has been working overtime for years.
Protecting me from wounds that no longer exist.
And perhaps that is why this season feels different.
Because for the first time, I am not fighting her.
I am listening to her.
I am thanking her.
I am telling her she did a wonderful job.
But maybe she can rest now.
Because the woman she was protecting has grown stronger.
And maybe that is what healing truly is.
Not eliminating fear.
Not conquering fear.
Not pretending fear doesn't exist.
But sitting beside it and saying:
Thank you for protecting me.
You can put your armor down now.
I've got this.
And as I looked around my office this morning, surrounded by unfinished projects and unopened possibilities, another thought arrived.
A thought that both excited and terrified me.
If I am not afraid of failure...
And if I am no longer afraid of being hurt...
Then what exactly is stopping me now?
I don't have the answer yet.
But I think I am getting closer.
Closer than I have ever been.
And perhaps the next layer of the coil is ready to reveal itself.
To be continued...
Comments