My Big Wins This Year Were All Failures

I love reading other people’s end-of-year reflections.

I think it’s because I secretly hope that by reading, I’ll finally learn the secret to achieving a year of “Having it all!”

As I reflect on 2024, I’m a little shocked by the number of “wins” I can point to. But even more surprising is how many didn’t feel like wins at all while I was living them.

I had an essay published on Huffington Post (that got an astonishing number of views!).

This is my most achievement-y win of the year. But the behind-the-scenes story of this win isn’t neat or especially pretty.

In 2021 I took an online writing class with a well-known journalist. One assignment was to write an interview, and I chose to interview my son about his experience having ADHD. The teacher returned my essay with a note saying, “I could see this getting published somewhere like the Washington Post.”

Wow, I remember thinking, I’m clearly on the right track! Three years and no less than eight drafts later, my piece had been submitted and rejected several times over. I wasn’t sure it would ever see an audience.

When I was in the thick of it—drafting and redrafting the essay, thinking it was “perfect” then getting feedback from my coach that “It wasn’t there yet,” going back to the drawing board again and again—it felt like FAILURE.

I considered giving up. Maybe I didn’t have the writing chops it took to capture an editor’s interest. Maybe I just didn’t know how to “play the game” of publishing.

It sounds cheesy, but in the end I’m pretty sure it was mindset as much as “talent” that finally landed me a yes from the editor at Huffington Post. I practiced telling myself, “It’s possible I can learn to do this.” I studied the pieces that were getting published. I listened to experts like

Anna Rollins

and worked with feedback from the ever-honest and thoughtful

Jennifer Louden

.

The piece got better, and I learned how to sell it. But only after wandering through a desert of “failure” for many, many months. (If you want to check it out, it’s here.)

I read War and Peace.

This win grew directly out of one of my biggest failings. I love to read, but I don’t read as much as I’d like to. Or to be honest, as much as I tell myself I should. (I know, I know! I’m working on it.)

I’m excellent at buying books that sound interesting that I very much want to read, but daily life gets busy, and I treasure my sleep, so I’m miserable at getting them read.

For the past few years, I’ve set goals like, I’m going to read a book every month! Or, I’m going to spend 30 minutes reading every afternoon! And then failed miserably at being consistent.

But last December I came across the slow read concept on

Simon Haisell

’s Substack newsletter: Read one (short) chapter of War and Peace every day; finish in a year.

The idea enticed me. If I couldn’t read a lot of books, maybe I could read one great big, long, well-written one?

The great thing about this challenge is I that it worked despite my lack of consistency. Sure, I tried to read a chapter a day. But the pace was slow enough that if life got busy, or someone got sick, I was easily able to go out for a few long runs with my AirPods and catch up on all I missed.

I have no idea how many books I finished last year (maybe half a dozen?), but for the first time in awhile I don’t feel “bad” at all about my reading tally for the year. I friggin’ read War and Peace! A great masterwork of literature!

My kid nailed his Bar Mitzvah with minimal mishegas.*

I know, technically this isn’t my win, but when you’re the mom doing all the arranging of the tutoring, the coming up with the practice schedule, and the “motivating” of the Bar Mitzvah boy to practice his portion, you’re a part of the mix that resulted in success. (And let’s be real, kids really can’t do many things all by themselves, so I’m happy to claim every one of their accomplishments as a #momwin!)

In January of this year, my son knew a handful of the 17 Hebrew prayers he needed to know, and none of 12 verses of Torah and 3 verses of Haftorah he’d need to chant to lead the service.

Nine months might sound like a long time to learn all that, but homework had been daily battle, and we were using every weekend and school vacation we had to catch up on missing assignments. I had no idea how we were going to layer Hebrew study on top of the the avalanche we were digging ourselves out of every week.

For about six months, from January until June, it very much looked from the outside (and on my most insecure days, also from the inside) like essentially nothing was happening to prepare for this Bar Mitzvah.

But something was happening which ended up being the secret to our success: I was practicing trust.

While it would have been incredibly easy for me to panic, to push, to give into my anxious brain each time it shrieked: But how will he possibly be ready in two months to lead a two-hour service in another language?! I chose instead to (finally!) listen to and trust what I knew about my son: he thrived on pressure; he was good at memorizing; he cared enough about doing a good job to practice when the date drew close.

We allowed him to mostly run his own learning process, guiding him with a light touch, and sure enough, he was able to nail the service with minimal family fights or struggle. One of the proudest days of my life.

I have 400+ subscribers to this Substack newsletter now.

This is way less than the number I wrote down on my “goals” sheet at the beginning of the year. And it’s certainly not the 15k some publishers might want to see in order to get my book proposal sold.

But… I just can’t let myself look at that number and think, “Failure.”

That number is more than double what I had at the start of last year! That number represents a lovely, growing community of people committed to finding ways to unhook from the toxic productivity loops that suck us in and make us feel bad.

That number is you, my friend, for whom I am deeply grateful! If you commented or liked or chuckled or commiserated with me here in this space this year, I thank you.

Your energy and support made 2024 a year I’ll always remember as a win.

*”With minimal mishegas” means with minimal craziness, silliness, or insanity

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Wonder of the Week: I’d love to hear your “wins” from 2024! (They can be big or small.) Do you see any as rooted in “failure”?

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