What does it mean to fail?
The scarlet F
As a recovering perfectionist (here is a live look inside of my brain at all times) the general concept of failure is cringe, yet inevitable. I am human and therefore fallible. But also *I* should be good at everything all of the time!!!1
It gets difficult to tease out the parts of perfectionism that serve you: finding real joy and pleasure in putting together the weird little details of a theme party, checking off a list of chores in a way that almost feels like a meditation, that moment when things click and a project comes together. Those are the good parts.
The bad parts are when you kill yourself trying to get to those good parts at all costs.
Failure is not generally regarded as a good thing unless we’re looking at it through the lens of later, greater success. Oh! That was such an important step for them! we think, while hearing the keynote speaker or Famous Person relate how they got dumped and fired or maybe both simultaneously, now confirming for us from The Very Impressive and Important Stage how amazing their life is.
It does not feel that great when you are sitting suspended in that moment of failure, wondering how you got there. Someone might say to you, better things are coming!! They mean it and they mean well, but trite aphorisms are about as helpful as Jello in any emergency that is not an urgent recreation of a 70s dinner party.
How did we get here
I don’t mean at the Jello party, but we can stick with that metaphor if it’s working for you.
It shouldn’t be news to anyone alive today that our society only values success if it’s seen as the result of suffering in some form: working insane hours, coming back from burnout, and sacrificing things that are supposed to make us human with a life worth living, like hobbies and time with loved ones.
We demonize anyone who opts out of that system or doesn’t at least pretend to participate; it’s fine for the obscenely wealthy to have that wealth only if they display their supposed work ethic2. It doesn’t matter if it’s blue-collar cosplay or a blatant lie because the performance is the point. It’s the display of worship of the Puritan work ethic that matters.
It’s also impossible to fully opt out of this system unless you’re fine with living in a shack in the woods or you have enough generational wealth and the ability to avoid public scrutiny around the expectations of performance for it.
Instead of aspic, butter
I’m about 75% of the way through the audiobook for Butter and delighted by the lens with which the author is critiquing overwork culture and expectations for women. America may be bad, but at least it isn’t common practice to comment on your coworker’s weight to their face— or have your height and weight listed on your resume, as I learned from reading Elise Hu’s Flawless.
The pressure and expectations for women are the same in most cultures: fit a specific aesthetic ideal that includes being thin, be a devoted mother and partner, be a devoted employee, and you may climb the ranks to Success. The difference is in how implicit or explicit these expectations are. The work is always meant to look effortless, the resources that go into it aren’t meant to be acknowledged unless it’s as a badge of honor (“sleep is for the weak”).
Always biting at the heels of the pressure to constantly do more, and be more is the threat of what happens when you don’t: failure. The scarlet F. You “let yourself go”, you didn’t push yourself hard enough and you lost that job, you’re a miserable childless cat lady3.
It can be hard to untangle what truly feels like failure to you vs. which expectations have been baked in by society. And some things revered and rewarded by society- strict control of your weight and appearance, overwork- are harmful to the self.
Butter puts it this way: neglecting yourself or not taking proper care of yourself when you have the knowledge and the means to do so is a form of societal violence. In an extreme individualistic culture like America that concept seems almost obscene unless you’re looking at it through the lens of health insurance premiums.
The only failure that should really matter is not taking care of each other— or only extending that care under certain conditions in a way that’s mostly performative. We should feel shame around that, not from losing an impossible status symbol we never really had.
Get Rec’d
What I’m reading, watching, being haunted by.
What I’m reading: I’m almost finished with Butter by Asako Yuzuki “a novel of food and murder”. It’s marketed as a mystery/thriller but it’s not a fast-paced page-turner; it reads more like gen fic.
What I’m watching: I finally watched the latest season of Bridgerton and look, I know I’m several months late to this party but Colin is absolutely that dude who goes abroad for a semester and won’t shut up about his ~ * expanded horizons * ~ when he gets back.
Reality: This would explain a lot, actually.
Escapism: In my heart I live in a place with seasons.
Wildcard: If you are mystified by the success of Colleen Hoover, do I have the piece for you!
Until next time.
Yes I am aware this is impossible but I am going to pursue it anyway because I am apparently Wired Like That
You can be an underwear mogul, preside over a beauty brand, participate in a reality TV empire, and study to become a lawyer (think of how much she will save on legal fees!!) while also having 4 children WHEN YOU HAVE STAFF. This is not available to us plebes, Kimberly.
lol