It’s December first.  Technically I failed in my personal challenge for November.  I have several excuses that may legitimately explain the failure, as I usually do.   Several days ago I already ranted to my friend about the fact that everyone seems to finish most of their projects, but I do not.  Everyone accomplishes great things all the time.  People complete books, start successful businesses, knit new sweaters, climb up the corporate ladder, run marathons, find cures to diseases… All I do is maintain minimal living conditions of cooking, eating, and cleaning.  Not even that well.  Seriously, my eighty-five year old grandmother was left in my apartment alone for five minutes, and when I returned she was sweeping. 

My friend responded the way I would have if our roles were reversed: not everyone is finishing everything all the time.  Many people begin projects that they don’t finish.  Even more people think of doing projects that they never start.  Yet others don’t even bother thinking about.  Our social media is like a giant bingo ball tumbler.  We only focus on the winning numbers.  Or what to us, stands out as the winning number at that moment.  There are collective thousands of projects that get thought of and started, yet we fixate on the ones that are completed successfully. 

Still, I set a very clear goal and I didn’t reach it.  There’s no way around it.  This is the point where I normally beat myself up ad nauseum.  Vocalize my disappointment in myself.  Confirm that, yup, just as I had thought, I’m a failure, and ask myself what is the point. 

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But today I will change the process.  I will talk to myself the way I talk to the people I love most – my kids.  I tell them that without failure there’s no learning.  I say that the only way to know where your boundaries are is to go beyond.  It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.  Failure of the “I’m a failure” variety is a construct.  A destructive construct.  Instead, when a concrete goal is not achieved at first, one must ask several questions. Is this really still important to me?  Can I accept that my life does not need this and confidently move on?  If it is important, then what have I learned from this attempt that I can carry forward into a second attempt? 

I published fourteen bits in November, far more than ever before.  Of those, I am very pleased with two or three.  I also started a half dozen others that I see potential in.  I really enjoyed the process.  This is all very positive and should not be covered with a blanket “I’m a failure” statement and dismissed.  Writing daily is a feasible goal, but starting and completing a piece daily is not at this point.  

To move forward, I am adjusting my goal to publishing once per week for the next thirty weeks.  I think my future self is glad.