I Am A Failure, and I'm OK With That

**NOTE: Please don't read this post with a voice of pity or sadness. Consider it an honest discussion, with me smiling as I'm saying these things. It's personal, it's honest, but it's a good thing. These are good things. I'm pleased with these things. I also recognize that I am not unique or alone. I did not write to point out great things about myself, nor did I write to gain pity or comments or love or whatever. I just wrote it, and I think it's important to share.**

Growing up is a silly thing. It's an exciting adventure. It's a fun thing. And a painful thing. And really really really really hard thing.

When you're younger, they tell you that you'll have to work hard, but they don't tell you how hard. They tell you that you will have set backs, but they don't tell you what kind. They tell you that you'll have your heart broken, but they don't tell you how broken. And they tell you that you'll learn to overcome, but they don't tell you how to overcome. The thing about growing up is that there is no lesson manual; there are no instructions, and there is no set path. Everybody will grow old and die, but there is no "right way" to grow old, and there is no "right way" to die. It just happens.

I've been living in California for 9 months. Has it been the best 9 months of my life? No, no it has not. Has it held some of the worst times of my life? Perhaps. I've mentioned it before, and I'll say it again: I'm learning a lot out here. I'm learning a lot about being on my own, about being by myself, and about being with myself. I've learned that I like alone time, but I don't like being lonely. I've learned that if you want to make something happen, then you have to do it yourself. I've learned that you can't rely on words, but only actions. I've learned that I have a lot more control than I think. I've learned that I place too much of my worth and value in the hands of other people, specifically people who don't deserve to hold my worth and value. I've learned that I am a very kind person. I've learned that I have a lot of things to offer. I am currently learning that I deserve a LOT more than I thought. I've learned how to triumph over fears and set backs. I've learned how to love without being loved in return. But most importantly, I have learned how to fail.

My English teacher would absolutely die if he read this next sentence. But the dictionary defines "failure" as a lack of success, a falling short. Some similar words include nonfulfillment, defeat, collapse, and inadequacy. I am hesitant to elaborate on what I've learned about failure because what I'm about to say can and will probably be misinterpreted and misunderstood. I know the word "failure" is a relative term, so hear me out.

 Failure isn't something I'm totally familiar with. Despite my incredible ability to be self-depricating, a consistant "lack of success" or a "falling short" hasn't been something I've had a lot of experience with. I am a driven individual, and I've worked hard all my life. However, I don't have many experiences where I tried really hard at something and didn't find a quick success. If I may boast for a second: I was a dancer growing up, often being a featured soloist in my company shows with my choreography being taken and adapted by adult companies at the age of 10. I competed in gymnastics for years. I studied piano for 6 years, and accompanied holiday concerts and shows for the school's high school and Christmas concerts starting in the 4th grade. I began playing basketball in 6th grade, and lettered for 4 years in high school as the team captain, MVP, and making the All-State team. I was granted scholarship and grant money to spend time in Germany on a foreign exchange at age 14. I toured Canada before my senior year of high school in a Variety Show with some of the most talented people I'd ever met, all who were my coaches and mentors as a performer. I was a valedictorian. I performed at DisneyWorld for 5 months. I toured as Lady Macbeth with the Utah Shakespeare Festival. I got my college degree from a great program, have had some invested relationships, performed in countless shows, and I now live in Los Angeles.

The self-depricating side of me would say "Yeah, but look where that's gotten me. Where am I now? It's nothing. I have nothing to show for myself." The healthy side of me would say "LOOK AT ALL THE THINGS YOU'VE DONE! You're great, keep going!" Unfortunately, the self-depricating side of me is a bit more persuasive. However, I don't think that self-deprication is the same thing as failure. And since moving to Los Angeles, "failure" has crept out from its ugly little hole and grabbed onto my face.

This is not to say that I haven't failed before. I have definitely had set-backs in my life; shows I didn't make, jobs I didn't get, people I disappointed, tests I didn't ace, relationships that didn't work out, etc. I've felt a "lack of success" and I've definitely felt a "falling short". But constant failure--actually failing at something time and time again hard. And I'm learning how to do it.

Let me start off with my first major "fail" here in LA. Shortly after moving here, I was cast in a core cabaret show at the cabaret bar Don't Tell Mama's. I'm a great singer: I love to sing, I have a powerful and beautiful voice, and it is a talent I have struggled to develop. I am far from excellent, but I'm good. Now, cabaret's scare me. Standing in front of a microphone, holding a microphone, singing karaoke, or basically anything that involves me singing as Kelly Marie Hennessey instead of a character, is gut-wrenchingly terrifying for me. My stomach turns into knots, my thighs start to burn, my chest begins to tingle and swell, and my throat closes off. I forget how to breath, I forget where to place my voice, and I feel like a small anxiety attack occurs. But I auditioned for this show, I succeeded, and I was determined to go big or go home. Flash forward: the day of the first show arrives, and I get to the bar to warm up and prep. I felt all of my anxious feelings, and I said to myself "Self, don't be a baby. You deserve to be here. You can do this, you will do this, this is your day to overcome."

Well? I didn't overcome. I didn't overcome at all. I was terrible. I got so nervous during my set, that I forgot how to sing. My throat closed off, I didn't hit my high belt notes. I forgot how to breathe. I forgot how to act. I zoned out. I was pitchy. I even started step-touching. You guys: I step-touched during my cabaret. (OMG) My set was terrible. I was the girl on the stage that everybody in the audience felt uncomfortable for and couldn't look at because they felt so bad and awkward for my (I knew this was true when the sassy black man rolled his eyes as I sang.) In short....I failed. I FAILED HARD. I left the cabaret as quick as I could. I didn't say thank-you for the director, I didn't talk to the rest of the cast (whom I had just met that day), I didn't stay for lunch. I walked to my car and I cried. I cried and I cried and I cried and I cried. I called my boyfriend in Utah sand sobbed some more as he told me that I was probably exaggerating and that I should get over it and move on. I drove home and wept some more. The shame that I felt that day was more than any shame I had felt for a very, very long time. I was supposed to sing weekly at that Cabaret, and I never heard from the director again. People would ask if they could come see my show, and I would lie about it because I was so embarrassed. I stopped singing for 5 months.

OBVIOUSLY, I've not shared that story with many people. And it still hurts my heart a little bit each time I think about it. But don't think thoughts like "poor kelly" or "how sad for Kelly" or "look at Kelly, she doesn't know what she's talking about, she should stop writing." Hear me out. I refer to that day as"The Day The World Defeated Me." I failed, and I was defeated.

My next day of defeat came when I unexpectedly lost my first job after a month of employment. It wasn't my fault, and I wasn't a bad employee. The company I worked for couldn't keep their crap together and basically let me go without telling me. Up until this point, I had never lost a job before, and I had definitely never worked for somebody that was incapable of being straight-forward with their employees. "I can't even hold down a job" were my thoughts. "What a failure you are." How was I going to pay my bills? How can I prove to my boyfriend and family that I am not wasting my time? Failure.

Since moving here, my relationship of a few years ended. I loved that man with my whole heart, and though it was a shock, I guess it wasn't a surprise. The details aren't important right now, so much as the fact that I felt that I now had another "failed" relationship under my belt; another long-term relationship with years of blood, sweat, and tears that has resulted in heart break and sadness. "You're such a selfish person. Nobody will stick it through with you because you are too difficult. You are not enough." Then I thought "No, Kelly, you are better than this, you can do this." So I went out. I met a guy. I liked him. Blah blah blah, water under the bridge. A couple months ago, I decided it wasn't for me. Again, failure.

Very recently, I was fired from my current job. I know I was unofficially let go from the other job, but I've never been fired before. Fired?! I don't get fired. That's not a thing that I do. But I was fired over a pretty trivial matter during extenuating circumstances that weren't really my fault. "Great job, Kelly. Your one job was to make this person's life easier, and you got fired because you couldn't do that. You can't even hold down a job. You're not an adult. You won't amount to anything." So I laid in bed for a few days. Then I laid on the beach for a few days, and all I could do was stare at the sky with a blank slate for a brain. "You're a failure."

Isn't this such an uplifting post? Aren't you glad you're reading this?

Hear me out!!

I hope you are understanding what I am trying to say to you: I AM A FAILURE. These are just a few of the personal and not so personal every day experiences that we have. I know I'm not the only one. I know you've got your failures and shames hiding inside you somewhere, and its ok! That's ok! I have failed in a lot of big and small ways, and it's ok.

My failure has always been accompanied by its best friend, "defeat." I was so terrible at the Cabaret show, I decided that my singing was a lost cause and I should stop it altogether; my relationship fell apart, and I swore off men; I lost a job, and contemplated my entire existence and value in life. I've auditioned time and time again with no luck, so I stopped auditioning for a while.

But you see, there is a trick to failing: you have to know how to do it, and I didn't know how. Until now.

Through all of these awful, awful experiences, I have been able to realize something very important: I cannot keep living my life like this. I can not keep allowing my defeat to rule my world. Let me elaborate on my current "failure."

 I currently am training in Improv at the Upright Citizens Brigade here in Los Angeles. And let me tell you something: I am absolutely terrible at improv. It is so foreign to me. I'm not quick enough yet, nor am I good enough to understand all of the dynamics and techniques that take place during the process. But guess what? I keep going back. I keep attending my class, and I keep failing harder and harder. And for some reason, I am suddenly ok with it. It is clear to me that I will not find sudden success through improv. It is something that I will have to invest in to develop. But this time, instead of cowering away and avoiding it all together, I keep going back.

YOU GUYS. THAT'S A HUGE STEP FOR ME.

 I can't tell you how it happened, and I can't tell you exactly when it happened. Maybe it was the prayers, or the temple trips, or the incredible amount of time I've spent by myself, reflecting. But what I CAN tell you that I don't see my lack of success as failures anymore. I don't view my employment situation as a reflection of my inner being. I know that my relationship is not a gage for my worth. I don't think twice about an audition or callback anymore, and though I feel stupid day in and day out in doing improv, I keep coming back for more. I WANT MORE.

That's the difference.

The difference between knowing and not knowing how to fail in life is whether or not you can bounce back for more. I am a failure, but I now know what that really means. And the thing is.........

 ....is that I am a beautiful, smart, and genuine woman....

I have a lot to offer.

I am strong.

I am funny. I am sensitive. I am smart. I am kind. I am thoughtful. I work hard.  I am a whole lot of talented. I am worthwhile. I am enough, and I am ready to bounce.