I’m no expert in failure, despite feeling that I might as well be on many days. But I am learning. Because it’s law school mental health week, I thought now might be the time to share some of my early thoughts.
When We Take Failure Poorly . . .
The very first step in learning to cope well with failure is to turn to the nearest reflective surface and look yourself squarely in the eye. Softly, fiercely whisper to yourself, “I’ve failed. But I’m not a failure.”
Okay, kidding. Don’t do this. But do take the lesson for what it is worth.
Failure taken poorly can start to feel like an identity rather than an event. “I didn’t get the job. It’s because my GPA isn’t good. My GPA isn’t good because I’m not smart. Because I’m not smart, I’ll never achieve the things I want to. I am A Failure.” (You know, just as a completely hypothetical, totally impersonal example of a thought process someone might potentially have if they happened to fail.)
I think we resort to this kind of thinking because it’s comfortable. In a lot of ways, just being a failure of a person is an easy-to-swallow explanation for why we failed. It doesn’t require us to think about how we might have misstepped or how we might improve in the future. It doesn’t require us to grapple with the fact that sometimes we fail because the world is unjust in ways we can’t control. It’s sad, but at least it is final.
But it isn’t accurate. Fair or unfair, earned or unearned, failing is a normal part of life. You might be surprised to learn that even the professors, Supreme Court justices, and prolific tweeters you most admire—the people you are least likely to see as failures—have failed, too.
We Need to Talk about Failure
Law school and the legal profession train us to hide any vulnerability and always put our best foot forward. Like many lessons we learn in law school, this is counterproductive. I think a large amount of the shame we feel around failure comes from secrecy. When we don’t talk about failure, it’s easy for us to convince ourselves that we are, in fact, the only ones who have ever failed. Of course, this isn’t the case.
If we knew how often those around us failed, we wouldn’t be so quick to judge ourselves for our setbacks. The tricky part is that having these conversations requires someone to speak up. It takes courage to admit to failure loudly. But I’m convinced that if we manage to do it, we’ll find that the shame we feel around our failures will start to melt away.
We Must Accept That We Will Fail
The final step, as with many things in life, is acceptance. We have to accept now that we’re going to fail. After all, as lawyers-to-be, we exist in a system that is adversarial by nature. In most cases, when we find ourselves opposite other lawyers, at least one brilliant, hard-working attorney will walk away feeling that they failed.
Still, in my head, accepting failure seems like it’s not an option. Anticipating failure seems unthinkable. But hear me out: for me, at least, accepting that I will fail has been a way to permit myself to do wild, brave things. Accepting failure means that I have applied for jobs, asked for opportunities, and competed in competitions I might have felt unqualified for or intimidated by. And often— more often than not, even—I fail. But very occasionally, I surprise myself, and I succeed. That success is made sweeter because I would never have tried if I had focused solely on the potential for failure.
I’m not a perfect person, and I often fail. Sometimes that even means I fail at accepting failure. (Meta in the worst way, truly.) Some days, the storied rejection email still leaves me 10 tear-soaked tissues and half a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream deep. But I’m learning to accept failure. And I hope you’ll take my words to heart and that maybe you will, too. Looking at the challenges (and opportunities!) that lie ahead of us as new lawyers, I think we’ll have to learn to fail well.
Easier said than done, maybe. But, look: if you mess it up, it’s no big deal. There’s always another chance to try and fail—or not—again tomorrow.
