This week, I found a large part of my thinking revolving around the fear of failure. Many conversations have come up about it, and it got me wondering: When did failure become something we thought about? As a baby, I was born with the instinct to survive, seeking care, love, and safety. My only fears were falling and loud noises—instinctual reactions. As a toddler, I learned to walk, eat, talk, run, and jump - all without fear. We see kids swinging from playgrounds (I usually have my hands over my eyes and hold my breath!), and they are fearless. Do they worry about failure? Are they afraid of it?
Where did this fear of failure come from, then?
As an adult, I often hear the motto, "There is no failure, only learning," and I agree. I strongly believe we can always learn something, even if it hurts at the moment, even if we cry, shout, or scream. We learn something. But I can't help but feel there is a little "but" in this equation, a lingering fear that keeps me from taking big leaps, makes me play small, stay in my lane, not speak up, not join groups, not make the changes I know are needed deep down.
So, what are those thoughts when I sit with the fear of failure? And where did they come from?
In my early 20s to mid-30s, I believe I was never afraid to fail. I tried new things, pushed myself at work, bought my first home, moved homes and countries, and explored the world. Now, in my 40s, stepping out on my own and building my own business, some interesting little voices—hidden in my mind’s filing cabinets—pop up throughout the process of building what I know I was meant to do.
So, what am I afraid of?
I am now sitting here, asking myself, where do I see failure? What does it mean to me? What thoughts arise when the idea of potentially failing comes up?
My conscious mind says that if I fail, I will learn something, adjust, grow, and do it differently next time—great.
My unconscious mind says, "But if you fail, Vikki, we will look like idiots in front of people. They will talk behind your back, and you will be humiliated." I hear the echoes of school: “You are just a blonde, you are the gold and silver crayon girl, you don’t know what you want, you are off with the fairies, you are not the brainy one.” Over time, I learned that to be liked, accepted, or praised, you must succeed. Failure is not an option. These words rush in, and as much as I try to pull them back, they hit me. I have created the equation: If I fail, I will look stupid and be humiliated.
I remember going to a high school awards night, all dressed up in uniforms, with Mum, my stepdad, and my granny. My sister, who I love and adore with all my heart, received several distinctions. I was so proud of her. That night, I was called to the stage and received my certificate for full attendance—not a single day absent (yay for me). Although my family never teased me about it that night, I have heard myself use it as a joke at my own expense, making people laugh, which I love. But over the years, my joke started to embed, my story of ‘not the clever one’ was being created, and during times of needing to be brave to start my own business, this narrative started to creep back up.
A wonderful friend of mine told me, in these moments, look to your right: Is anyone judging or laughing at you right now? No. If someone walked into your house right now, could they judge you? Yes, if they wanted to. Would they have the right to? I guess so, but then they are not people I want in my home. Is it on them or you if they judge? On them.
Lightbulb moment:
I finally see it: This whole time, the person actually judging me, thinking I would be humiliated and called stupid, was me. I was my own voice, having put all these small moments in time together to create the perfect cocktail for keeping small and playing safe. It was called Fear of failure because you will be called stupid!
I love the saying in NLP that if we point a finger at someone or judge someone else, there are always three fingers pointing back at us. It only started to make sense now as I understand my equation.
With this insight, we now need to ask the real question: What is the product of failure? What is the emotion we fear the most if we fail? Because if we can understand that one, we can start to change it.
If my equation was failure = stupidity, I know that this shakes my value of pride. I take great pride in my work ethic, capabilities, and reliability, so it makes sense that this equation has been battling a core value. No wonder it can feel like an uphill climb when I am embracing an unknown journey and needing to be brave.
The narrative to always succeed without any option of failure—because failure is bad, failure should be avoided, failure will slow you down, make you lose money, make you look stupid, and humiliate you. It now makes sense that during my own coaching sessions (yes, even coaches have a coach), I kept saying, “I feel like a bird whose wings are clipped; something is holding me back.” It was me pointing the finger at myself.
The wonderful thing about beliefs from your past is that you can change them.
You can change the narrative you’ve been running. It is time I took this narrative and throttled it. So, how do we do this? I turn to my full attendance certificate, which means I have incredible stamina to take on anything the world gives me—thank you. My gold and silver crayons—because everything worthy should shimmer and shine—keep going! To not knowing what I want—hell, yes, because then I wouldn’t be on this journey—great. To those who judge, I say do it because you will anyway, but always remember: Only those below you will judge you to bring you down, and that is not where I am going. If you are being judged, it means you are doing something that creates attention, which shifts people’s minds—awesome!
I have always heard my beautiful mum whispering softly during these times of doubt. I know it is her looking down on me. I finally hear her words: “Fly, my baby girl, fly!” She is with me, ready to let my wings open up.
So if I recognise the voices are not mine, they are simply ideas, thoughts, and beliefs built through the years, I can let them go, change the narrative, and create a new equation. The equation has shifted. It is not failure that is with me anymore. Instead, the word now looks like "opportunities"—because to fail, I must have had an opportunity to give something a go, right?
My new equation:
Opportunities = I leapt and began to fly!
Understanding and confronting our fear of failure reveals that it often stems from deep-seated beliefs and past experiences. By recognising these voices and narratives, we can change them, transforming fear into opportunities for growth and courage. It's about embracing the journey and understanding that every attempt, regardless of the outcome, is a step towards soaring high.
"Failure is simply the opportunity to begin again, this time more intelligently." – Henry Ford
Love,
Vikki