Reflections on Failure

The other night, I was talking with my 16-year-old daughter about failure. 

She was struggling with taking AP World History online, and she was wanting to quit because she couldn’t see how the class would ever be relevant in her life. The overwhelm of the last year of online school has taken its toll on her mental health.

I told her a story about how most of the last 8 years of building Smith + Connors was made up of spectacular, painful failures. In fact, how my partners and I relate to failure is one of the key reasons why we’ve made it this far. 

She has been there to see it all unfold in real time. Both parents and her aunt have learned how to be entrepreneurs together, taking risks to do it, sacrificing income and vacations and time off and stability… none of this is lost on her. We started Smith + Connors when she was 8 years old. She’s been there for the celebrations as well as the failures. Last year she witnessed me sink into a dark depression combined with intense anxiety as we struggled to keep the business going through the pandemic. My entire identity was wrapped up in this business, and it was all crumbling before my eyes. Who am I? What is my worth if we close the business? How will we support our family if we can’t pay down this debt and right the ship? It was terrifying. 

The pandemic, taking on debt to keep the business going, losing clients due to economic stagnance, losing money, losing staff, losing sight of a way forward, not seeing a future in the business -- I now see that these were all invitations for me to get down into the dark quiet spaces to really look around. It was a test. It was scary as hell. And I was suffocating from fear. 

But then — ten long months into the pandemic, and almost a year of near constant work to keep afloat — something happened. I had reached the bottom. In January 2021, two more employees gave their notice to move onto greener pastures. Our landlord agreed to tear up our office lease. Most of our projects were close to wrapping. It got quiet. This was it: the end… or a beginning? 

All of a sudden, what once felt so scary and out of my control became dynamic and flexible. And it was up to me to decide where to go next. That felt empowering. And it started to build.  

One day in early 2021, I got up and literally patted around my body with wonder. “Hey, I’m still here! I’m ok!” I said. It hadn’t killed me, this rock bottom place that I’ve dreaded for the last 8 (or really, 40+) years. 

Was it easy to face what felt like the “end”? Hell no. Do I understand why I (and so many of us) avoid going there at all cost with distractions and coping behaviors? Hell yes. It was grueling and hard. I didn’t want to find out that I couldn’t make it through hard things. My coping behavior of choice has always been workaholism and productivity. In this society, it’s rewarded. Work until you can earn your reward and rest. Not exactly healthy! By feeling productive and always busy, I could avoid the dreaded quiet. One of my therapists always said: of all of them to choose from, workaholism is one of the more healthy coping mechanisms. At least you’re not drinking, she would say. It had, in fact, helped me to build a company, serve our clients, establish a good home for my family, and keep the house tidy! But it has huge downsides too. 

From the moment I got up and realized that going to the rock bottom didn’t kill me, things began to change rapidly in my life and business. It’s as if once my perspective shifted and the block of fear dissolved, some other energy started generating within me and connecting to others. My vision and intuition grew very bright and clear almost immediately. I just knew what to do. This was new! I was instantly connected to my purpose, and I began sending that message out energetically into the world. I felt a literal buzz throughout my being.

The only other moment in my life that I can compare this to was standing on top of Mt. Kilimanjaro at age 14, realizing my incredible strength simultaneously with feeling like a speck of dust in the universe. I am both powerful and just one of multitudes all striving to learn and grow and be of use to others. That moment changed the course of my life, at a time when I was truly lost.

On the climb up Mt. Kilimanjaro, Tanzania, 1988 - Age 14

I told my teenage daughter how I have no master’s degree, no design degree, and yet I’m Creative Director of my own firm that has worked with some of the most important public-good organizations in the world. I talked to her about how I have not risen to this position without benefiting from the racist oppression against BIPOC people in our society -- and how it is our responsibility to both acknowledge our role in it and use our privilege in service of those directly oppressed and harmed by racism. I talked with her about how grit and courage and belief in ourselves are the real ingredients for success. It’s not smarts or the degree on your wall or the grades on your transcript. It’s being willing to keep moving through the pain to learn, to truly see ourselves, to get up after falling down, to grow through failure, and build our lives around lifting others up. That is the path. It felt good to be sharing this wisdom with her now, at a time when she can fold it into her own development of self and purpose.  

Failure may be my favorite topic, perhaps because I’m really really good at it. I’d love to hear what you think of my story. Thanks for listening. 

Photo Credits: Buzz Blumm

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Special acknowledgement to the teachers/friends/guides who stayed close by my side over the last year to help me move through failure and come out stronger. I’m incredibly grateful for your support:

My beloved partner in life and work: Scott Smith; my beloved sister, partner, and friend: Becca Connors.

My family who stood by my side as I fell apart: Buzz Blumm, Diane Sievers, Eliza McIntyre, Cecile Blumm, Maddie Blumm, Andrew Blumm, Marilyn Smith, Daniel Smith, Emily Bobrow, David A. Smith, Keri Wirth, Heather Roberts. 

Thanks to my dad, Buzz Blumm, who led me up countless mountains throughout my childhood, which taught me so much about grit and keeping going. I'm forever grateful.

My dear friends who stood very close by all year: Deb Landau Miller, Tali Ovadia, Pam Horowitz, Kimberly A.C. Wilson, Darcy Cameron, Noelle Crombie, Kristy LaFolette, Cassie Hughes, Toni Smith, Betty Izumi, Mara Zepeda, Michelle Battista, Amy Spindler Ibold, Ashley Thirstrup, Wendy Lawton, Jess Columbo, Jillian Cohan Martin, Meg Busse, Bonnie Richardson. 

My therapists and intuitive healers: Sarah Mueller-Stephens, Anne-Sophie Houdek, my psychedelic therapist + MDMA (!), my astrologers. 

The beauties who offered me their light and friendship: Trabian Shorters, Aparna Rae, LaMonte Guillory, Kevin Cavenaugh, Darion Jones, Carol Cheney, David Nichols, Joyal Mulheron, Robin Tompkins, Katie Kelley, Willi Galloway, Andrea Wetzel, Mark Hawley, Adam Morris, Farhad Ghafarzade, Billy Henry, Diane Bradley, Nidhi A. Dagur, Jo + Scott Brickman, Ashley Henry, Shannon Rhoads, Elizabeth Kennedy-Wong, Julian Pscheid, Robin Way, Eric Stolberg, Kent Lewis, Rob Jordan, Stephanie Swanson, Amanda Gersh, Denice Bradbury, Jennifer Brandel, Chelsea Haring, Laura Lo Forti, Andrew DeVigal, Joanna Cohen, Noel Brown, Jonathan Cohen, Jessie Burke. 

The team at S+C, who stuck with us, worked tirelessly, and truly helped us make it through 2020: Stephen Forbush, Beth Meyer, Maria Janosko, Becca Collins. 

My faraway (but close!) friends: Pascal Ehrsam, Agathe Blanchon, Sara Lopez-Isaacs, Ekta Farrar, Namita Moolani, Lenore Manuele. 

#entrepreneurs #failure