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Embracing Failure: The Only Regret is Not Trying

In the grand tapestry of life, the only regret that truly lingers is not the failure itself but the hesitation to act. It's a sentiment many of us grapple with, recognizing that the fear of failure should never outweigh the courage to try. In my own journey, I've come to appreciate the wisdom that lies in taking risks, even when faced with judgment and criticism from those who prefer the safety of the familiar.

The Weight of Regret:

I've always believed that failure is not the enemy; it's a companion on the road to success. However, the one thing that haunted me was the fear of looking back and regretting the chances I never took. I understood that failure was a part of the process, a stepping stone towards growth, but what troubled me most was the prospect of regretting the moments when I chose not to act.

A Daughter's Apprehension:

Interestingly, my very own daughter held a fear of my potential failures. The thought of witnessing me stumble was unbearable for her, primarily driven by concerns about societal opinions. In her eyes, I became an embarrassment, subject to the judgment of others. However, she failed to grasp the essential truth that failure is an intrinsic part of venturing into the new and unexplored. While her concern, albeit well-intentioned to a limited extent, underscored a widespread misunderstanding – that failure signifies inadequacy rather than a commendable display of courage. I'd rather embrace the risk of trying and endure the ridicule of naysayers, ensconced in the safety of their unchanging generational norms, than abstain from trying altogether. The prospect of conforming to a life handed down through generations, devoid of exploration and challenge, is unappealing to me. I refuse to relinquish my Creator-given power to the shackles of conformity. The beauty and the sad thing about this, is none of them know me and nor dose my daughter, because she choose them over her mother.

The Challenge of Small Minds:

What stung even more was the external judgment from a circle of small-minded individuals, content in their stagnant lives. These dream squashes and vision busters took pleasure in belittling my aspirations as me being weird, on my daughter Facebook page, branding me a failure and an outsider. Their words, fueled by fear and ignorance, were nothing more than the echoes of a life lived in the confines of a predictable routine.

Pity for the Dream Squashes:

It's easy to succumb to anger and frustration when faced with such individuals. However, I've come to realize that their judgment stems from their own insecurities and limited perspectives. Pity, rather than resentment, is the most fitting response, for these individuals who transfer their own fears onto others, incapable of envisioning a life beyond the narrow confines of a 9-5 existence.

Embracing Individuality: It's perfectly fine when people label you as "weird." Why? Because not everyone needs to comprehend the unique path crafted by the Creator of all, a path designed exclusively for me. My life has never been, and will never be, dictated by the opinions of others who lack the perspective of my Creator-given journey.

I exist, not to conform to societal expectations, but to follow the intricate path designed for me alone. My life is a canvas painted with the hues of challenges and growth, bestowed upon me by the Creator of all. I am a soul on a purposeful journey, intricately designed to leave an indelible impact on the lives I encounter.

The opinions of others, be it family, children, or friends following the well-trodden path of past generations, hold no power to deter me. No one is granted the privilege of influencing or hindering the trajectory set for me by my Creator. This is my life—a one-on-one conference call with destiny, not a multi-participant conversation subject to the limitations of collective perspectives.

The paradox lies in both the beauty and sadness of the situation—none of them truly know me, including my own daughter who opted for their company over that of her mother. The intricacies of who I am, my essence, remain hidden from their understanding, overshadowed by their choices and perceptions. It's a poignant reminder of the complexity that arises when relationships are strained, and decisions are made without a full grasp of the person left behind. In this bittersweet narrative, the beauty lies in the authenticity of self, while the sadness emanates from the distance created by choices that may not fully acknowledge the depth of a mother's love and individuality.

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