How I’m Failing
Failure is one of those words that instantly makes people uncomfortable. I bet when you read the title of this blog post, you probably felt some pity, maybe a little sympathy. We’ve been taught to avoid it, treat it as a mark of shame, or proof that we weren’t good enough. For me, failure used to feel like the end of the chapter. If I didn’t reach the goal, that was it, the story ended. But as I’ve grown, I started to view this once negative action differently. Instead of running from it, I learned to use it. What I’ve read is that failure is categorized into two perceptions.
Negative, mark of shame
Positive, a learning opportunity
Obviously, the second view seems much better, much more logical. But I never really accepted that perspective until I was denied admission to my top colleges.
I remember this day very vividly: March 27th, the day that UC Berkeley decisions came out. Coincidentally, also the same day as my senior trip to Disneyland. The “Happiest Place on Earth,” surrounded by some of my best friends, surrounded by nothing but laughter and joy, yet I couldn’t escape the thought in the back of my mind. Part of me felt I had done enough, after all, everyone kept saying things like, “Don’t worry, you definitely got in,” or “Don’t stress too much, they would be crazy not to pick you.” But deep down, I knew the truth. Not enough clubs, not enough extracurriculars, not enough of anything, at least not enough for what Berkeley was looking for. Walking through Grizzly Peak, I opened the decision letter and saw what I already knew: rejection.
Honestly, at first, when I got the email, I avoided it, tried to avoid the shame, disappointment, everything that would come with me being rejected. But, once I did open it, I didn’t feel anything, no embarrassment, no crushing sorrow, nothing like that, sure, maybe a sharp moment of devastation, but then that was quickly followed up with determination, determination not to let this be the end of my story. I needed to prove to the admission officers at UCB, and more importantly, to prove to myself that I was good enough.
Even though I had other options, schools that accepted me, even offered scholarships, I chose De Anza for one reason only: to keep my hopes of going to Berkeley alive. That rejection was a failure, yes, but it’s one that I carry with me. Not because I want to dwell on heartbreak, but because I want to remember the wake-up call, pushing me to prepare harder, work smarter, push further. This fuels me for the future, showing me to be more ready for the next chapter than I had ever been before.
