This might be a longer read, but I think it’s worth it! (If I do say so myself, haha.)

We’ve all heard people talk about “the beauty in failure.” And not just because failing is fun (because it’s not), but because of what it teaches us. You might wonder if this is just a comforting cliché or if there’s actually something to it. Why would anyone be thankful for failure?

Recently, I had my own brush with failure (ok, not brush … face to face encounter!), and it wasn’t pretty. In my last post, I mentioned my business venture—a product idea that I took from concept to production, with a fully-fledged e-commerce site, social media campaigns, professional photos—the works. I thought I had it all figured out. I was sure I’d be an instant hit. Spoiler alert: I wasn’t. It is embarrassing to think about now.

Those six to eight months of hard work culminated in a huge letdown. By November of last year, I had to admit to myself that it was a failure. I took some time off work to recover and decompress—I call it my “recovery period.” I can’t say I “grew” much during this time, but I at least stabilized enough to get back to normal life. The real growth came months later, when I was ready to face what the failure had done to me, as a human.

It wasn’t until February—no New Year’s resolutions involved—that I began to heal. I didn’t plan on it; it just happened. Between November and February, I needed time to stabilize before I could even think about moving on. I’m not the type to just shrug off bad things; I have to face them. And in this case, I had to face my ego.

I was embarrassed. I’d put myself out there, and my friends and family knew all about it. I wished I could’ve failed quietly. But what I really had to confront was my assumption that I could do it all on my own. I didn’t have endless funding, hired no experts, and wasn’t a natural salesperson. I thought I could learn everything I needed from a few articles and some YouTube videos. Turns out, it’s not that simple.

It was a humbling experience, to say the least. But something changed in me. As I recovered, I began to deeply appreciate what small business owners go through. I saw how much effort it takes to build something from scratch. I admired the creators who put their hearts into their work, even when it feels like the odds are stacked against them knowing they will inevitably face some rejection but keep going.

That’s when I understood: there is beauty in failure, but it’s not what you’d expect. The beauty isn’t in the failing itself. It’s in the growth of empathy and appreciation. It’s in recognizing that I wasn’t as selfless as I thought, but failure pushed me towards what I believe, to be better, to bloom. This realization didn’t just change how I approach business; it changed how I lead, how I parent, and how I connect with friends.

So, yes, there’s beauty in failure—but maybe not in the way you’d think. It’s not about the failure. It’s about what comes after and the peace it brings.