Here’s to the Ones Who Messed Up

I have largely felt like a total loser (and been told as much) for much of my life. And often I still feel like I am a loser, one filled with shame and deep embarrassment.

I honestly feel compelled to write this, like something inside me that won’t stop telling me to, despite not really believing I have anything to say. I have had so many massive ups and downs in life, made so many mistakes, that have given me so much perspective, that I feel like if I try really hard I can create something that helps a certain type of person find their way in this world. I have grand dreams that I could help a lot of people who feel lost and worthless. Maybe it’s my ego talking, tricking me into believing that I have some insight that could be helpful to my fellow man. My mission is just that: to help people who have been told they will never amount to anything — people told they are dumb, a loser, or just made to feel worthless — and to show them that they have the inner strength, when focused, to really create an amazing life for themselves.

Someone who has failed in a massive way, preferably a few times. Someone who cannot bear the shame of defeat, who is living with the scarlet letter of shame, embarrassment, and destitution. The feeling of wanting to shrink, to be so small that nobody sees you anymore. The person my writing is for will understand the desire to be small. Someone who just wants to disappear from the world. They have experienced such a massive mistake, tragedy, and failure that it feels like they can’t ever recover. That’s the person I want to speak to.

The person who has been to prison — especially if it’s the prison of their mind. The hero who was publicly shamed for making the wrong call, making a bad decision. The politician who gets caught cheating on his spouse, shamed and diminished. The father and husband who has it all, only to have his spouse cheat and leave him, destroying his self-confidence, his status, and his wealth.

Different people go through different trials and tribulations, and many of us — nay, all of us — wish we had handled things better (well, all but the narcissists and egomaniacs). So people’s failures are harder to see. The person who took the safe path as an accountant so they could be a provider and have stability, when what they always sought was to be an artist, a designer, a free thinker. The worst prisoners I have met are the ones who took such a safe and predictable path that they put themselves in the prison of responsibility — where they can quite easily justify their play-it-safe decisions, exchanging the dull so they can make a mortgage payment for the next 30 years. Upon reflection, that person is deeply unfulfilled.

My reader is those who feel regret and shame daily. It hangs on their chest so heavy that if they allow themselves to think about it for more than a glancing moment, the tightness wells up, their face twists in pain, and tears of remorse begin to fall. No — it is far safer to tamp down these feelings, they tell themselves. That is my reader. I want them to know that they aren’t alone in this world. That there are many people who feel the same way as they do — most, in fact. But that there is still time, and the time is now.

Here’s to the ones who messed up. The blunderers. The screw-ups. The ones who took the wrong turn. Took chances and fell short. The square pegs who smashed the round holes. The ones who stumbled, fell, and broke things along the way. They’re not proud of the chaos. They don’t glorify the mistakes. But you can’t ignore them. Because those missteps, those epic fails, they forge something new. They carve paths where none existed.

You can judge them, pity them, or try to forget them. But they’re the ones who rise from the wreckage. They rebuild, stronger, wiser, fiercer. While some see only the error, we see the spark. Because the people who are bold enough to own their mistakes, to learn from their fuck-ups, are the ones who find redemption, happiness, and success.

Resolute, jaw set, still afraid — and that fear becomes their ally, because having lost everything is the center of personal strength. Their power isn’t in avoiding the fall — it’s in climbing back up.