I Grew Up Chasing Perfection—When I Failed, I Finally Grew

Get straight A’s. Be skinny. Be polite. Make people proud. Make sure everyone else is happy, even if you're miserable. That was the unspoken rule in our house. In our culture. In the world I grew up in.

So I became the girl who followed the rules. I memorized the answers instead of asking questions. I smiled and nodded even when it hurt. I let shame wrap around me like a second skin—quietly, obediently—until it became part of who I was.

I didn’t think I was allowed to fail.

And when I did? I collapsed under it.

Failure didn’t just sting. It crushed me. It meant I had disappointed someone. It meant I wasn’t enough. And when you've spent your whole life trying to be everything for everyone, “not enough” feels like a death sentence.

I tried to fix myself by becoming who I thought everyone wanted. I chose pharmacy school not because I loved it, but because I wanted to make my parents “proud”. When I changed majors to Building Construction Management, I lied and told my parents it stood for Business Construction Management—just to stay in the realm of what was "acceptable." I fed people the version of my story that made them comfortable. I edited myself to survive.

After college, I could barely afford rent. I split one chicken breast to last the week. When I lost a lot of weight, people said I looked great. I was barely surviving, but the world applauded me as thriving. Eventually, I started calling myself a “semi-vegetarian” because chicken was too expensive and vegetables were cheap. I wrapped my reality in buzzwords so people wouldn’t ask questions.

When I left my job to become a yoga teacher in Europe, people said I was brave. Free. Enlightened. The truth? I had lost all hope. I wasn’t running toward anything. I was running away. Away from expectations. Away from the pressure. Away from the perfect story I’d been performing for far too long.

When I escaped the world that rejected and judged me, all I had was my own self. When I lost I hope, it forced me to think in the moment. That's I had, my own thoughts, the current moment, and that is what saved me.

In Europe, I didn’t have to pretend anymore. I failed all the time. I bought the wrong bus tickets. I got lost in foreign cities. I cried in my Airbnb for days until the host knocked on the door to check if I was still alive.

And in all that failing, something wild happened—I started to grow.

Failure stripped away my armor. It peeled off the layers of shame I didn’t know I was still carrying. For the first time, I didn’t have to be anyone else. I could just be...me.

There were terrifying moments. Like the time I sprinted through dark streets convinced I was being followed. Or when I froze in yoga teacher training, unable to speak, tears pooling in my eyes breaking down in front of everyone in class.

But there were beautiful ones too. Nights spent cooking with strangers who I had the deepest conversations about life and feelings. Wine shared by the ocean. Conversations that cracked my heart open. I wasn’t thriving in the Instagram-perfect sense. But I was finally living.

I once believed failure was the end. Now I know—it’s the beginning.

I used to think perfection was the path to success. But perfection left no room for curiosity, no margin for magic. It made me hesitant, scared, and small. Failure gave me freedom. The freedom to be messy, bold, unfinished. The freedom to try again.

Failure allowed me to test things that don't exist. Failure allowed me to follow my instincts when I didn't know the path on the other side. Failure gave me back my curiosity.

So now, when I fail, I let it teach me. I don’t bury it in shame. I will write about it. I will talk about it. I let it sit with me. I learn about it and try again. And each time, I come out lighter. Clearer. Stronger. The only person that matters when you fail is your own self. It’s the longest relationship that you’ll ever have in your life. When you fail are you going to let yourself learn from it and move on, or let yourself trapped into it?

I grew up with the idea that I had to be perfect. BUT that belief trapped me—stripped me of joy, curiosity, and growth, when I finally let myself fail, I learned that failure isn't the opposite of success. It’s the beginning of self-worth.

If you’ve been scared to fail, ask yourself:

What story have you been telling to keep others comfortable?

What are you shrinking to avoid shame?

What would happen if you stopped?

Because life doesn’t begin when you get everything right.

It begins when you stop needing to.