So writing a blog is hard. I’ve had it in my planner “to do” for about four weeks, and I’ve put it off daily, wondering why in the hell Natalie, Gillian, and Alli encouraged me to be a guest on their page. For those who know me, something making into my planner is a big deal; it means I’ve dedicated some sort of time to completing it and I place value on whatever needs to be done. So, by continuously avoiding this blog, I failed my plans, and as someone who enthusiastically has her “shit together,” this sucks.
Planning is problematic for multiple reasons. The first, and most salient as I’m headed into the job search is, “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans.” I never planned to live in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I never planned to go into Higher Education & Student Affairs. I NEVER planned to live somewhere where I had to drive in snow. I definitely never planned to stay in said place for more than two years. And yet, here I am, because life made other plans.
So still blogless, and with a reminder from Nat in my inbox, I met up with a dear friend of mine. If you told me four years ago I’d be hanging out with my favorite lollipop TED talker at Nicky Blaine’s I would have laughed in your face. THAT definitely wasn’t part of the plan. We talked about the stages my life has been in, and continues to be in. 5 years of elementary school, 3 years in middle school, 4 years of high school, 4 years of college, 2 years of graduate school, 2-3 years in my first job….with the end of each stage allowing for a new transition and a new failed plan, and yet a beautiful outcome. Those stages and transitions make room for failure, proving that having my “shit together” is actually not a thing. Life comes in stages, and stages breed failure. Because, with every move is an inevitable chance to make plans that won’t work out.
And that’s just it: plans fail. In a beautiful, undeniable way, they go somewhere you never expected or wanted at times: falling on your face, getting told “no,” ending up in relationships you weren’t looking for, and seeing friendships evolve and diminish. But all of these situations open you up to a new path, a new opportunity for risk, and a new way to fall.
So as I transition into a new, better version of myself through graduation and the job search, I’m going to plan to fail. The thing is, I know that this failure is the foundation for my future plans-whatever failure that may bring. I know it gives me the grace to fall back in love with myself, scar tissue and all. Scars mean I took a risk, planning and allowing for failure.
Failing in love with myself,
jla
This guest blog post is brought to you by Jessie Ashton. Read more about her on the guest blogger bio page. If you’re interested in writing for #successfulfailures, please email successfulfailureblog@gmail.com.
successfulfailureblog.wordpress.com 