What I Learned After Failing Multiple Times

There was a time in my life when I believed that failure was something to be ashamed of. Something to hide. Something that meant I wasn’t good enough. I carried that belief with me like a heavy backpack, and every time I stumbled, it felt like I was collecting more weight to carry.

I still remember my first big failure. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it felt like it. I had prepared for weeks for a job interview I thought would change my life. I walked into that room confident, hopeful, and walked out crushed. I didn’t get the job. And the rejection email didn’t just say “no.” It said I lacked certain skills, that I wasn’t what they were looking for. I read that email at least ten times, each time feeling smaller than before.

That failure stayed with me for weeks. I stopped applying to jobs. I questioned my ability. I compared myself to others. I thought, maybe I’m just not meant to succeed like other people.

But that was just the beginning. That year, I failed at three other things. I lost a freelance project because I missed a deadline. I launched a blog and no one read it. I tried to start a fitness routine and gave up after two weeks. Every failure chipped away at my confidence, but somewhere deep down, something else started to form — a strange kind of awareness. A voice that whispered, “There’s something here you’re supposed to learn.”

The truth is, failure forced me to stop and reflect in ways that success never could.

It taught me patience. In my early 20s, I wanted everything quickly — success, money, recognition. I thought that if something didn’t happen fast, it meant it wasn’t meant to be. But failure showed me that real growth takes time. It takes effort, consistency, and the willingness to get back up even when no one is clapping for you.

Failure also taught me humility. I used to think I had things figured out. That I was smarter than average. That things would just "work out" for me. But life doesn’t reward ego — it rewards learning. And you can’t truly learn unless you're willing to admit you don’t know everything.

I remember sitting alone one evening after another failed attempt at launching an online store. I had spent money, time, energy — and it didn’t go anywhere. I was frustrated. But instead of spiraling into self-doubt, I opened my notebook and wrote a single question: “What did I do wrong?” That question led to ten honest answers. And those answers became the foundation for my next attempt — which, surprisingly, worked.

You see, failure has a way of humbling you enough to listen. To observe. To understand that maybe your approach needs to change, not your dreams.

It also taught me resilience. And I don’t mean the Instagram quote kind of resilience. I mean the real kind — the one that makes you show up even when you're tired, scared, or unsure. The kind that makes you start again with shaky hands but a steady heart.

There’s a kind of courage that only comes after you've been knocked down a few times. A kind of strength you discover not because you wanted to, but because you had no choice.

I look back now and I realize something powerful: if I hadn’t failed so many times, I wouldn’t be who I am today.

I wouldn’t have developed the discipline to work without external rewards. I wouldn’t have learned how to separate my self-worth from my results. I wouldn’t have discovered what truly matters to me — and what doesn’t.

Failure stripped away the noise. It made me ask deeper questions: What do I want to build? What am I afraid of? Who am I trying to impress? And most importantly — what am I willing to try again for?

Now, when people ask me about success, I don’t talk about achievements or numbers. I talk about the nights I cried, the plans that didn’t work, the emails that never got replies, and the quiet mornings when I had to pick myself back up, again and again.

Because that’s where the real growth happened.

If you’re reading this and you’ve failed recently, let me tell you something I wish someone had told me back then:

You’re not broken. You’re becoming.

Failure is not the opposite of success — it’s the process of it.

And sometimes, the lessons you learn while falling are the very ones that teach you how