How Falling Taught Me to Soar"

There was a time in my life when the word failure clung to me like a shadow. I had just lost my job — my dream job — the one I had worked toward for nearly a decade. It wasn't just the loss of income or title that shattered me. It was the identity I had wrapped around that position, the pride I took in being "successful," and the silent fear that I was nothing without it.

I remember walking out of the office on my last day, a box in my hands and a storm of doubt in my heart. Friends tried to comfort me with cliché phrases — “Everything happens for a reason,” “You’ll bounce back” — but none of it made sense. I had given everything, worked late nights, sacrificed weekends, and still, I was deemed replaceable.

For weeks, I stayed home, watching days blur into nights. My confidence eroded. I stopped reaching out to people. I stopped believing I had anything left to offer.

Then one morning, I saw a bird outside my window. It was small and fragile-looking, hopping awkwardly on the ledge. It tried to take flight but stumbled, flapping its wings desperately before it fell back. I expected it to give up. But it didn’t. It tried again. And again. On the fourth try, it finally soared.

That tiny moment struck something deep in me. I whispered to myself, “You’ve fallen. But maybe, like that bird, you’re just learning how to fly differently.”

That day, I picked up a notebook and wrote one sentence: “What if this failure is not the end, but the beginning?”

I decided to stop chasing what I had lost and start discovering what I had left. I had always loved writing but had pushed it aside, convinced it was impractical. With time on my hands and pain in my heart, I turned to words. I began blogging about my journey — the raw truth of losing a job, questioning self-worth, and rebuilding from zero.

To my surprise, people started reading. Then sharing. Then reaching out, saying, “Your story feels like mine.” It wasn’t just healing — it was connection. Purpose. Light peeking through the cracks.

But the road was not smooth. I pitched my writing to several magazines. Rejected. Tried to freelance. Ignored. There were moments I almost quit, telling myself maybe this too was a mistake. But each failure stung less because I had stopped tying my value to the result. I started seeing failure not as a wall, but as a redirection.

Over time, my blog grew. I was invited to speak at a small event about overcoming setbacks. Then another. I found myself in rooms I never imagined I’d be in, not because I was perfect, but because I was honest about being broken and rebuilding.

Two years after losing that job, I stood on a stage in front of 500 people and shared my story. At the end, someone came up to me with tears in their eyes and said, “Thank you for failing. You helped me believe I could rise too.”

That was the moment I knew: falling was never the problem. Staying down was. And the wings I thought I never had were built from every stumble, every sleepless night, and every “no” that pushed me toward a better “yes.”

Today, I run a small company that helps people navigate career transitions and rediscover their voice after failure. It’s not glamorous. It’s not always easy. But it’s real. And it’s mine.

If you're reading this and you’re in a season of falling, please know this: failure isn’t the opposite of success. It’s part of it. It’s the fire that forges resilience. It’s the silence that reveals what truly matters. And sometimes, it’s the very ground you need to find your wings.

Looking back, I don’t regret losing that job. I’m grateful for it. Because it taught me to let go of who I thought I had to be, and embrace who I truly am.

I didn’t just learn to fly after failure.

I learned how to soar.