Sometimes, it’s not just the fall or the unexpected loss of everything that impacts us. While no one enjoys losing or failing, the emotions tied to a significant failure or loss often expose deeper internal struggles. We may not recognize that we have allowed our successes and failures to shape our identity and self-worth. This may not even be our own belief system but rather something inherited from our family, yet it surfaces during the highs and lows of life. In moments of triumph, we may feel powerful and worthy, but during times of great loss, we can plummet to our lowest points, believing our worth is tied to these circumstances.
It was only when I hit rock bottom, losing nearly everything and feeling like a failure both in my family’s eyes and my own, that I truly confronted this. I thought I had changed, dancing to my own tune, seemingly unaffected by others’ opinions—at least less so than before. However, I discovered that this notion was far from reality. I was consumed with anxiety over money I didn’t possess and a direction that felt aimless, mistakenly believing that these were the roots of my suffering. In truth, I was more troubled by what these circumstances said about me and who I was. The idea of having made mistakes—perhaps many—felt unbearable.
It seemed as though the game was over; I had squandered my chances with my family, my savings, and my friends. My emotional turmoil clouded my ability to view the situation proportionately. It felt like an end; I found myself torn between returning home to admit defeat and face the consequences or just ending it all. I’m not sure where I found the strength or clarity to pull myself out. I remember finally speaking to my dad after weeks of avoiding the call. As I suspected, he was worried, disappointed, and upset, though he was gentler than my mom, who I had spoken to just days earlier. I spun tales and offered excuses; some were true, others fabricated. The facade of good deeds I once hid behind was gone—I had messed up.
Even when they didn’t believe in me, my family supported and helped me as much as they could, not only parents but my sisters as well and I let them all down. I had blindly pursued my passion and intuition, despite my unclear direction. I was aware that my finances were going downhill but I refused to accept it. Things had always worked out for me in the past—jobs appeared, and money showed up out of nowhere. But this time was different.
As difficult as it was to accept, this was part of my journey, part of a larger plan. I was certain I would find myself living in the streets or worse, but it didn’t happen. At the last moment I found a way to pay the rent and survive for another day. I needed to confront losing it all and failing, learning to embrace them both. I had to navigate a situation where I couldn’t prove my rightness, where everything seemed to conspire against me. It was essential for me to acknowledge that my family might also be right without needing to defend myself, and tell my side of the story.
This journey was a release—a profound step toward self-love and acceptance that freed me from the need for external validation. My ultimate goal was to achieve inner peace, even if others didn’t perceive me in a positive light. It was about recognizing the power my thoughts had over my self-perception—how much of what I believed others thought of me was a projection of my own mind rather than their actual opinions. I needed to decide how long I would let these imagined judgments influence my journey. When this realization dawned on me, it felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted. It was like carrying countless people on my back and then finally letting them go. I found myself embracing loss and failure, even feeling gratitude for them, as they represented my willingness to take risks, to be courageous, and to remain true to myself regardless of the outcome—whether I succeeded or failed.
I reached a point of clarity and understood that I had been creating stories in my head, weaving narratives shaped by old beliefs that had long dominated my life. These beliefs told me that my worth was conditional, dependent on external achievements and how others, especially my family, perceived me. Let me be clear: my family didn’t say or do anything to reinforce these ideas. It was my own assumptions about their thoughts that fueled these beliefs. In truth, it wasn’t even about them—it was about me allowing external circumstances to define my worth and value.
Though I had been on a transformational path for some time, experiencing significant growth and change, much of this progress seemed to fade when I returned home. Internally, I felt like a different person—happier, stronger, and more aligned with my true self. Yet outwardly, I lacked the tangible markers of success that I thought others needed to see, particularly in the realm of financial stability. While my family and friends could sense that I had changed for the better, I still struggled with the feeling that I hadn’t achieved enough to validate my transformation.
The most profound lesson I learned was this: everything that happens to us or around us is inherently neutral until we assign meaning to it. No matter how personal or painful an event might seem, our reaction and the story we attach to it are what give it significance. If you could detach from yourself and observe your reactions—as though you were watching a play—you’d notice that much of the drama, fear, or insecurity comes not from the event itself but from the beliefs driving your response. We react the way we do because we believe we must.
Until we can separate the neutral event from our emotional reaction, we will continue to see our beliefs as reality. We perceive our reactions as natural and inevitable, triggered directly by the event, when in fact they stem from beliefs that have no inherent connection to the event itself. The moment we recognize this, we gain the power to let go of those beliefs or choose not to hold onto them anymore.
While the future remains uncertain, I hope to avoid letting fear of failure—or what failure might say about me—prevent me from following my path and striving to achieve my goals, no matter the obstacles along the way.
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