success pending...
On fearing failure, unemployment, and the awkward pause after “So what do you do?”
There’s a fear that clings to my shadow. A quiet, persistent voice that whispers at night and shouts when I'm awake. It's the fear of failing. Of watching my efforts crumble. Of unemployment. Of being twenty-something and still dependent. It's not poetic or edgy. It’s just... heavy. Like wearing wet clothes you can’t take off. And I know I’ll carry it until I earn my own money. Until I hold independence in my hands and can finally breathe.
This fear isn’t random. It’s wired into me by a system that measures worth in productivity and success in paychecks. I’ve seen what happens when people fall short. The tired eyes of someone who's tried everything and still hears “we’ll get back to you.” The awkward silence when someone’s asked, “What do you do?” and they don’t have an answer that society respects. I don’t want to be in that silence. I don’t want to be invisible.
Failure feels personal, even though it's common. Schools don’t teach you how to fail gently. They don’t prepare you for rejections or remind you that timelines aren’t one-size-fits-all. So when I mess up, even slightly, it echoes. It becomes proof that I’m not enough. And then the fear mutates into self-doubt, into paralysis, into this unbearable pressure to be someone before I’m ready.
Unemployment, to me, isn’t just the lack of a job. It’s the absence of identity, of security, of dignity. It’s the awkward explanations to extended relatives. The constant urge to prove to everyone and to yourself that you’re not lazy, you’re just stuck. It's wanting to contribute but not having the opportunity. That kind of helplessness breeds shame.
And yet, I know I can’t live my whole life in fear. So I carry it for now. I let it walk beside me, not lead me. Because one day, I’ll earn. Not just money, but confidence. Clarity. My own sense of value. The fear will still exist, but it’ll be quieter. It’ll be drowned out by the sound of me building something for myself.
Until then, I move forward. Slowly. Stumbling sometimes. But moving.
Fear of failure is what made my mind go quiet and now even the screams are needed to be felt though the vibrations of discomfort because they are so inaudible and suppressed. My mind refuse to talk to me and I'm yet to know how to make it open up to me. This world never teaches us how to fail yet when we walk into the trenches they can't comprehend they say so sweetly so disgustingly, "failing is what makes you succeed"
Probably.
But now here I am and many more of our generation, feeling the hesitation to not fail. Becoming victim of learned helplessness and worse becoming the inhabitants of the claustrophobic distopia of stillness and ever so comfort of doing nothing.
That fear you carry, “heavy as wet clothes”, sings a truth I know too well. I once let society’s script of paychecks and approval drown my heart’s voice. But you’re already waking, seeing the lie that ties worth to productivity. That’s a one-way door, a shamanic spark. Choosing your own story over their demands isn’t easy, but it’s yours, a life without regrets, built brick by brick with every honest step.
The Tao whispers to flow with your soul, not the world’s noise. Each small win, each moment you honour your heart, builds confidence and success that feels like home.
Thank you for daring to write your own story.