I come from a family that did not encourage failure. Not that anyone explicitly said that out-loud, but we would discuss and judge others’ failures with the implicit understanding that I would be the subject of other family’s conversations if I were to fail. So, to avoid failure, I became very scared of taking risks.
I was afraid to talk to new people. I was terrified of playing the violin in front of others. I was nervous while driving through a yellow stop light. Because, what if I come off as super awkward and uninteresting? What if everything is out of tune and my hands are too clammy to play the fast notes? What if I drive too slow, the light turns red while I’m in the middle of the intersection, and I get T-boned?
Having grown up next to a music conservatory, I had to play in a lot of concerts and auditions. Right before these big performances, I’d often dream of getting (read: giving myself) a bloody nose mid-audition. It was the perfect excuse to stop playing. I would get blood just absolutely everywhere. Bloody violin, bloody stage, bloody judges… As you can imagine, it would take forever to clean up all this blood, and I’d be packing my violin and driving home before you even knew it.
Failing is … unpleasant
I never went so far as to actually go through with my plans (perhaps because it is another risk in itself), but I continued to hate every minute of playing the violin for an audience. And, I hated myself for not being able to just do it and miraculously play well in front of others. Every performance everyone saw me fail and they judged me for it… Or at least that’s how it felt.
But, we want to celebrate failure. It’s all about that growth mindset and learning from your mistakes. And while I acknowledge that failing is indeed part of growing and achieving success, it doesn’t change the fact that failing feels bad. It sucks.
… And why would you want to do something that makes you feel bad?
But, you like to climb?
So, it’s funny that I, with a deep-seated fear of risks and failure, got into bouldering. Bouldering is an unroped type of rock climbing that focuses on power and technique over endurance. It’s inherently risky because when you boulder, you will fall. And while the gym has padded flooring to absorb the impact of your fall, there is always the possibility that you will injure yourself.
As a beginner, all of this was terrifying. While I was on the wall, I didn’t trust my hands or my feet. I kept thinking that I might slip, have an unanticipated fall, and possibly break an arm. All of this fear made me tense and nervous. Like many beginners, I was solely focused on reaching up and pulling myself to the top. And I never wanted to look down, because I’d have to see just how far off the ground I was.
You have to fall eventually
I think this is one of the greatest hurdles in climbing—overcoming the fear of falling. Fear often leads to improper form. In gripping the hand holds for dear life, I wasted all my energy. I got tired quickly, and I wasn’t progressing as much as I wanted to.
The key to bouldering is learning how to fall properly (yes, there is a proper way to fall!) and repeating it until it’s second nature. And once you’re confident in your ability to fall, taking risks such as letting one arm go or jumping for a hold aren’t as daunting. You know exactly how to take the fall. And once you’re back on your feet, you can give the climb another go. Before long you realize that while you were falling over and over again, your body’s developed the muscles to take on a harder climb.
Keep failing until it isn’t the worst thing in the world
I approach taking risks outside of climbing the very same way. Keep exposing yourself to failure. Fail again and again. Make your failure public! Even if it doesn’t feel like it, you are learning from each failure. And as time goes along, failing doesn’t feel that bad anymore.
I knew that if I wanted to actually boulder, I needed to fall. Yet, I climbed believing there was a way for me to learn how to climb harder routes without ever having fallen. It doesn’t really make sense, right? In the same way, I kept trying to be successful and achieve my goals without taking risks and facing failure. Even though I knew I had to fail, I thought there was a way around it. There isn’t!
Failing still sucks, but it’s worth the risk
It’s okay to feel lousy after risking it all and failing miserably. I still do! The only way to move on though, is to get back up on your feet and keep falling. Because, from what I’ve learned, once you stop being afraid, the only way to go is up.
