Failure is the hardest F word to handle

Failure is the most awful F word I can imagine being hit with. Being insulted or cussed out are minor. Being told I'm fat or ugly, fine. I can be called stupid or lazy- while they will get a response, to be called a failure is something far more hurtful. Maybe it's not just that we are "failing." Maybe it is has a much deeper root.

Failure is harder because it also reminds you of all the hopes and dreams you had. You are aware that you let yourself or someone else down- then add to that the reminder that you have to let go of the hope that you will get past this. Let go of the dream that everything will be alright in the end.
Failure is admitting you didn't succeed at something then having your hopes and dreams remind you that it was more than just the lack of success. You have to unclench your fist and face your heartache and loss.

According to the dictionary,
Failure: (N) 1. Lack of success. 2. the action or state of not functioning. Synonyms include: defeat, breaking down, collapse, malfunction, crash, and unfulfillment. I think the synonyms are spot on and just as telling about how failure feels as the definition itself. It's not just that we haven't succeeded. It's more like feeling like we are drowning in the deep end of the pool of failure. We can smell the defeat like chorine in the pool before the gush of breaking down fills our mouths. We gag and sputter on the malfunction that we are experiencing. We feel hopeless and like collapse is the only thing we can do. There is nothing to hold us up. We can't see past the waves or ripples of knowing we crashed and were not successful.

Knowing we have failed is like sitting on the train tracks, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and wanting to sit and wait to see if it will run us over. We know it is coming. We know that we can't fix it. Nothing about failure is comfortable. Facing the fact that we are not successful and were unable to achieve whatever it was that we wanted is hard, add to it failing someone else and the person we face in the mirror seems so far from who we want to see. When people we care about fail us, we struggle with handling how to reconcile the perfect image in our heads of who they are to us. They become fallible and we are able to see them in the raw realness of humanity.

If you google "failure," you will find tons of  warm and fuzzy life affirming quotes about not letting it hold you back. Sonya Patterson says, "Don't let yesterday's failures and mistakes stop you from chasing success today." What if we stop treating failure as a the pool of defeat and start treating it like a book. Some moments of our life are not our entire life story. We acknowledge the failure; we grieve the defeat. Then, like the end of a particularly hard to understand story, we CLOSE THE BOOK. The lessons we learned from the failure remains with us. It becomes apart of our education of life. Ultimately, we allow ourselves to grow past our short comings. We stop mourning the mistakes and the lost dreams and we close the book. It's not a plot twist, it's a complete and ended book.

Failure hurts because we must face our mistakes and the loss of dreams that we had HOPED would occur after our "success." But sometimes, it's time to close the book and stop beating ourselves up over our crash, shelf it and open a new book.

"There's no place like home..." but where is HOME?

Where is your home? Is it the place you sleep  when your day is through? Is it where you display photographs of loved ones? What do you think about when you hear the word "home?" Is it your refuge? Is it the place you hide from your demons? What makes one place "home" and another "away from home?"

One of the first things that I do when I move into a new place is set up the bed, put toilet paper in the bathroom, and put decorations on the walls. I know it might sound trivial to others, but for me, it's part of making it my space. Somehow by me moving my things and "marking it" it transforms from an empty shell to my space. For me, the magic is in the memories I bring and use to decorate. Does it change the overall feeling of the place instantly? No, but it removes the stark emptiness. It's like candle in dark room. The small act of decoration lights up the space.

Maybe it has something to do with taking ownership over the space. Parents name their children names that are family names, or names that give them a warm feeling, or names they hope will sent them apart from others making their children unique from all the world. When you take ownership over some place- are we not doing the same thing? You are claiming the space; setting it apart from all others. The label of your stuff makes it yours.

What about places that you know are temporary in your life? Why do they not feel as home like? I think it has something to do with the fact that you have to fill them. You have to feel love within the walls. It might not be the touch of your lover or best friend. Maybe you need to hear someone who cares about you say how much you matter to them within the space. Memories and moments and laughter need to be let loose to chase away the cobwebs of stale. You need to know that no matter what is said- you at still safe.

So what make a place home? I think it's making memories, and sharing your dreams, feeling love and feeling safe and content within the walls. It's not just where you sleep.... it's the fact that you reach out for your loved one in the bed. It's the fact that the towels smell like your laundry detergent. It's that the pillow cases smell like the people you love's shampoo. Home is more than four walls and a feeling of safety. It's knowing that even when you are alone- you aren't an island. You are tethered to others.

For many, home is not four walls and a roof....
-its the arms of someone who would go through hell and high water for you,
-its the way the person who loves you looks at you when you're a hot mess and still sees someone they love.
-it's the laughter in the kitchen at random moments,
-it's the words said to praise and nurture.

Home wasn't ever a place.