89. The Importance of Failure
Failure. It’s an ugly word. A word that tastes like regret, burns like shame, and lingers like a ghost in the mind. Failure is the thing I once feared the most, the very thing that threatened to define me. For years, I ran from it, hid from it, numbed it with substances. I convinced myself that if I could just stay ahead of failure, maybe I could outrun the pain. Boy, was I wrong. It took me years to understand that failure was not my enemy. It was my teacher.
As an addict in recovery, I have failed more times than I can count. I have stood on the edge of sobriety, promising myself and the people who love me that I was done, that I was stronger this time around, and that I had learned my lesson. Yet, I fell. Again and again, I fell. Each relapse felt like a betrayal—not just to those who believed in me but to myself. I would wake up, sick and ashamed, wondering how I had let it happen, how I had lost control again, and how I had once again become the person I swore I’d never go back to.
In those moments, failure felt like the end of everything. It felt like proof that I was broken beyond repair. That I was undeserving of a second chance—much less a tenth or twentieth one. But somewhere along the way, through the darkness, I began to realize that failure wasn’t the final word in my story. It was just a chapter.
Recovery is not a straight path. It is not a single moment of triumph or a single victory where the battle is won and never revisited. Recovery is war—daily, relentless, and sometimes exhausting. It is the fight of a lifetime, and in that fight, failure is inevitable. But failure is also necessary. It humbles us. It reminds us that we are not invincible, that we are human, and that the demons we face are real and strong but not unbeatable. I used to believe that failure meant I was weak. What I’ve come to understand is that failure means I am trying. That I am still here, still standing, still fighting. The only true failure is in giving up, in refusing to get back up after falling. And so, I rise. I rise not because I have never fallen but because I have learned to stand again.
There is a certain pain in failure that I would not wish on anyone. The look of disappointment in my family’s eyes, the way friends slowly drifted away, the trust that took years to rebuild—all of it hurt in a way I cannot put into words, but in that pain, there was also growth. Every failure forced me to look at myself more honestly. Every failure stripped away another layer of denial, another excuse, another illusion that I could do this alone. Every failure pushed me to seek help, to open up, to surrender to the truth that I could not heal in isolation.
One of the greatest lessons I have learned in recovery is that failure is not the opposite of success. It is part of it. Each stumble, each setback, and each moment of weakness has shaped me. It has made me more resilient, more self-aware, more willing to do the hard work of healing. I am not proud of my failures, but I am grateful for what they have taught me. Failure has shown me who truly stands by my side—not just when I am doing well but when I am at my lowest. Failure has taught me the importance of accountability, the power of vulnerability, and the necessity of grace—both from others and myself. It has reminded me that perfection is an illusion and that real strength is found not in never falling but in always getting back up.
There was a time when I believed that my failures defined me. That I was nothing more than the sum of my mistakes, my bad choices, and my broken promises. Today, I know better. I am not my failures. I am what I choose to do with them. I am the man who refuses to give up. I am the man who keeps fighting. I am the man who, despite the weight of his past, is still moving forward. To anyone who feels lost in their own failure, who feels like they have fallen too many times to ever rise again—please hear me when I say this: You are not beyond saving. Your failures do not define you. What defines you is what you do next. So stand. Try again. Fail if you must, but never stop moving forward. Failure is not the end of the road. It is just part of the journey.
And remember, if you’re struggling or know someone who is struggling, please don’t lose hope. If that had happened to me, I wouldn’t be able to help spread awareness today.
