Freedom to Fail
A reflection on an old creative workshop
To Those Who Wander, don’t fear the critiques
I was recently reminded of a workshop I created during my time living in Norway as a creative coordinator. I had planned a full creative calendar for our arts students—booking facilitators across photography, design, fine art, music, and more. Everything was on track—until one week, it wasn’t. I had no facilitator lined up. Thirty students. No plan. No backup.
I usually problem-solve quickly, but time was running out, and the inbox was silent. I paused and thought about the ongoing conversations I’d had with students and staff—what threads were present that hadn’t been addressed yet? What had they been craving beyond technique?
That’s when it came to me: I would lead the workshop myself.
I crafted several sessions around collaboration, risk-taking, and personal growth—blending students from different art disciplines to co-create. The final topic was “Freedom to Fail.” The workshop was born not just from my years of working with creatives, but from the hard-earned experiences of my own life—challenges I’ve faced, mistakes I’ve made, and the many moments where I had to choose resilience over retreat.
My goal was simple: get the students to try something new. Break their routines. Step into the unknown. I wasn’t sure how it would land—this was my first time facilitating. But by the end of the week, I was overwhelmed by the feedback. Students felt empowered, creatively recharged, and proud of the risks they’d taken. Many walked away with newfound confidence—and new creative paths to explore.
That was eight years ago. So why has it come back to me now?
Because these days, I’m walking through my own unfamiliar territory again. I’m in a season of contract work, searching for full-time roles that will support my goals while I continue to build The Hive, a dream project with my business partner. The grind is real: hundreds of applications, countless rejections. Some days feel like I’m sprinting up a downward escalator, and it’s hard not to ask myself: Do I feel like a failure?
But here’s the thing—what even is failure?
Failure is a noun.
A lack or deficiency of a desirable quality.
Synonyms: lack of success, non-fulfillment, defeat, frustration, collapse, coming to nothing, falling through, inadequacy, scarcity, insufficiency.
Failure is a word we use to describe outcomes. It’s data. It tells us something didn’t work.
But if we personalize it, it becomes something far more damaging:
I AM my failure.
I’m a loser.
I’m incompetent.
I’m a disappointment.
I’m a nobody.
And when we internalize that narrative, we start seeing ourselves through the lens of guilt, shame, and condemnation.
We tie our value to what we do, what we create, what we achieve.
We become paralyzed—afraid to try again.
Failure becomes a blockade to our identity and self-worth.
But that narrative isn’t the truth.
Failure is a tool.
I can use failure to measure my growth.
It helps me accept my shortcomings and see where I need to adjust.
It can make me eager to try again, not afraid to.
My value is inherent—what I do, create, or give are extensions of who I am, not definitions of my worth.
Failure can empower me, not define me.
So I’ve had to ask myself deeper questions:
Who am I listening to?
Who are my critics—and are they honest, kind, or just echoes of my fear?
What tensions are actually blocking my life and creativity?
Am I being harsher on myself than anyone else is?
Sometimes we need to stop telling ourselves lies.
Speak the honest truth.
Honest truth isn’t always pleasant—but it moves us forward.
Tension is not the enemy.
Tension can be the birthplace of resilience.
And resilience? That’s the stuff that builds character—making us steadfast, responsible, flexible, teachable.
So I’m learning to retrain my brain:
To see failure objectively, not emotionally.
To stop fixating on shortcomings and start looking for new opportunities.
To use innovative thinking to learn from what didn’t go as planned.
To reframe failure as an invitation, not a dead end.
If you’re in a pivot season—wandering, waiting, weary—you’re not alone. I’m right there with you.
But maybe this tension you’re feeling isn’t a sign that you’re failing.
Maybe it’s proof that you’re growing.
The freedom to fail is the freedom to become.
Don’t be afraid to take a risk.
Don’t be afraid to start again.
Your value is not up for negotiation.
And the story isn’t over yet.