I failed. Now what?

I was so close to hitting my goal. To winning the trophy, the trip, and the title. In the sales world, the goal is called President's Club. I lost, and I felt crushed. This was not the first time I had felt this sort of heartbreak. In other chapters of life, it had presented itself in the form of dance auditions, job interviews -- heck, even neighborhood Christmas light contests.

This failure was particularly hard to swallow. I felt like I had done everything right. The work ethic, vision board, personal growth, and optimism was top notch. How could this have happened? <record scratch!> *That* question diverted me into a rabbit hole of stories as to why I failed. Whether the stories involved me, the program that determined my sales quota, or the client who wasn't available for meetings, I had alllll the stories. As I internally proclaimed each story, I externally broadened my chest with my hands on my hips. "Yeah! If it weren't for that, then I would have won!" Such a mistake.

These stories were giving me a false sense of confidence. Topped off with a fabricated feeling of bitterness towards the lead characters in each narrative. These stories were pressing my feelings of sadness, anger, and jealousy down into the depths of my being. But like a cork being pushed to the bottom of a tank of water, the feelings kept popping up. It was time to face the truth, and feel my feelings. I didn't win. I was sad. I was angry. And I was jealous. For the first time in my life, I realized that I had never allowed myself to feel these feelings. No stories attached. Just feel.

Being the optimist that I am, it was difficult to sit in these real emotions. But, just as I love on anyone who is having a tough day, I decided to love on myself. I began with the obvious self-care tactics. Now, my next move was like magic: I loved on my feelings.

I loved on the sadness. Because, without knowing sadness, I wouldn't be able to fully appreciate happiness. I loved on the anger. Because it confirmed in me that I know my worth. I loved on the jealousy. Because it gave me direction to my desires. And so, I quietly thanked each person for winning the title that I wanted. Because they showed me what is possible. Finally, I thanked myself. For allowing myself to feel.

A teacher and author named Robert A. Johnson wrote, "The place where light and dark begin to touch is where miracles arise." Well I'll be darned if the journey from failure to gratitude doesn't perfectly illustrate that idea. Happy miracle-makin', my friends. Keep dreaming big.