You will fail—sometimes
The many times I failed.
Apologies for sending this again! I meant to send a test earlier and accidentally sent it to you. I still had a few edits left, like those repeated pargraphs I was trying to build, but this is the revised version. Talk about failure!
“God forbid!”
Is that what crossed your mind when you saw the subject? I understand. We all dread failure, yet it’s an inevitable part of life. I didn’t even choose this title—it chose itself. The theme of this reflection came to me while I was taking a break from work, but those exact words struck me later during a walk. To soften the impact, I added “sometimes.” :)
Before we go on, I didn’t expect my last eavesdrop to resonate so widely. This newsletter has always felt like a quiet corner, yet somehow, many people read it. A few, including you perhaps, even reached out to ask about my ‘loved one’s’ health. Thank you! She’s my niece, by the way, and she’s perfectly fine—one of the many miracles I’ve witnessed. Someday, I’ll share that story.
But today, let’s talk about failure.
It’s easy to see failure as a detour, an interruption, or even a verdict on our abilities. I used to think so too—until life taught me otherwise.
I think it was a Friday. I’m not sure, but I remember that afternoon vividly. I picked up my annual report sheet, and scanned my grades—As and Bs—until my eyes landed on an E. I rushed to the teacher’s remarks, and there it was: To repeat.
I had to redo SS2 because I failed maths—a prerequisite. I held back my tears during the three-hour journey home, but the moment I walked through the door, I broke down. My sister rushed to pick up my crumpled bags, confused by my distress.
I wasn’t a straight-A student, but I kept decent grades. Now, I had to sit in class with my juniors, I thought to myself. The shame was unbearable. For the first three to four weeks, I barely attended classes. I became a truant. Then one day, my chaplain sought me out. He told me to make the most of the season. My mum, my school guardian, and even my godfather shared their counsel too.
It was my first real experience with failure—at least on that scale.
I had two choices: stay bitter or get better.
Eventually, I decided not to let that failure define me. I showed up. I put in the work. And in the end, I didn’t just pass—I built stronger friendships, gained confidence, and even got nominated as a prefect (which I declined).
And then, at university, I failed again.
I failed genetics—twice. I failed microbiology. I remember walking into my first-year microbiology exam, staring at the questions, and submitting a blank sheet. I had never attended a single class. I hadn’t studied. I don’t even know what I was hoping for.
That’s when I realised something: failure is rarely just about the moment it happens. It’s often the result of small choices we make—or don’t make—over time.
I could go on and on. Like when I applied for the 2023 MTN Media Innovation Fellowship and got rejected, only to be accepted on my second attempt. Or when I pitched a story to an editor, got rejected, sent it elsewhere, and got accepted.
Failure will always be a possibility as long as we are willing to try. Unfortunately, failure is like an orphan—alone, abandoned, with no companion. It feels like a funeral where people gather for a day or two, offer their condolences, and then leave you to carry the grief for the rest of your life.
But like grief, failure is not a place to dwell. You don’t sit in it. You don’t wallow. You get up. You apply again. You try to be better—not just to prove something to others, but because growth is its reward.
What changed for me? Three things:
Perspective: I stopped seeing failure as a personal flaw and started treating it as feedback. Every failure taught me something—about preparation, resilience, and, most importantly, myself.
Community: The words of my chaplain, my family, and even kind strangers reminded me that I wasn’t alone. We need people who will encourage us when we can’t encourage ourselves.
Action: I learned that regret weighs more than failure. The only real failure is refusing to try again. Even if one door closes, another exists somewhere.
I don’t know what it is you feel like you’re failing at right now. But hang in there. Learn the lessons. Stand up. Try again. And again. And again—until you get it right.
"For though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again." (Cf. Proverbs 24:16)
🍿 Things that I have enjoyed recently:
I rewatched the conversation between Trevor Noah and Simon Sinek on ‘Friendship, Loneliness, and Vulnerability,’ this time I enjoyed it even more because Joey and I saw it together, and the commentary was refreshing.
Being an editor in the newsroom often means helping others refine their work while neglecting your byline. I’m working to change that. So, I wrote about an issue that’s deeply personal to me; ethnic and religious strife in Nigeria’s Middle Belt.
I also enjoyed watching Madame Web on Netflix. It’s a sci-fi film that explores important life themes—responsibility, the need for community, and the dangers of greed.
What have you been enjoying lately—movies, books, articles, music, conversations, or anything else? I’d love to hear about it and check it out too!
Johnstone!
The timeliness of your posts should be studied.
I've failed a lot, and I keep learning, just as you shared, that failure isn't a place to dwell.
This week alone, I've received doses of rejections, and this post was so timely. I'm even too shy to share my failings with my friends. Maybe someday I will.
I'm reading Margaret Thatcher's autobiography and Divergent by Veronica Roth in my spare time.
Don't stop writing, Chief!
"But like grief, failure is not a place to dwell. You don’t sit in it. You don’t wallow. You get up. You apply again. You try to be better—not just to prove something to others, but because growth is its reward." This right here sealed it for me. Thank you, Chief.