Think You’re Failing? The Truth Might Surprise You

You’re not broken. You’re not behind. And this might just be the beginning—not the end. That quiet doubt you’ve been carrying—the one that whispers something isn’t right—might feel like failure. But often, it’s something else entirely: a signal. A sign that you’re ready to look more honestly at your life, your work, and what you truly want next. 

The year I thought I’d failed

When I was 33, I looked around at my life and quietly thought: Is this it?

I had ticked the boxes. The job. The responsibilities. The adult life I was “supposed” to have by now. And yet—I felt hollow. Like I had missed something vital. Like I was failing at life in a way that no one could quite see.

I had a constant, low-level feeling that I’d somehow fallen behind. That I hadn’t lived up to my potential. That everyone else was quietly passing me by.

I kept showing up. I kept doing the work. But inside, I was deeply tired. Unsure of what I wanted. Disconnected from my own voice. I thought: Maybe this is just what being an adult feels like. But deep down, I knew something needed to change.

Why do I feel like a failure?

That feeling—of having done so much and still not feeling right—is more common than most people think.

It doesn’t mean you’re doing life wrong. It often means you’re waking up. You’ve outgrown an old identity, or you’re realising that someone else’s version of success isn’t enough for you anymore.

But instead of naming that, we blame ourselves.

We think:

I should be grateful.
I should be further along.
Everyone else seems to have it together—what’s wrong with me?

If you’ve ever caught yourself thinking, “Maybe I’m just not cut out for this” or “Why can’t I figure this out when everyone else seems to?”—I want you to know: that voice is not the truth. It’s the sound of your deeper self asking for something more aligned.

I feel like a failure in my career

At 33, my career looked solid on paper. I had stability, skill, and a clear trajectory. But I no longer felt connected to it. I felt numb, uninspired, and guilty for not being more grateful.

This is where so many women start to quietly spiral.

You work so hard to build a “good” career, only to realise it doesn’t feel like yours. It might pay the bills. It might even impress people. But if it drains your energy, stifles your voice, or leaves you restless—it’s no longer a match.

And that discomfort? It’s not failure. It’s your clarity trying to break through.

Is it normal to fail in life?

Life doesn’t move in neat, upward lines.

It moves in cycles—of growth, shedding, becoming.

Sometimes we hit walls. We make choices that used to work… and suddenly don’t.

We change. Our priorities shift. What once felt right now feels misaligned.

And that’s part of life—not a personal flaw.

What feels like failure might actually be a healthy unravelling. A necessary pause. A moment when your old ways no longer fit, and something new is quietly trying to emerge.

What failure can teach you

Failure strips away the noise.

It brings you back to your own voice.

It asks: What matters now?

It’s uncomfortable, yes. But it’s also clarifying.

It helps you see where you were performing instead of choosing.

Where you were proving instead of protecting.

Where you were reacting instead of intentionally living.

Some of the most powerful shifts I’ve seen—in myself and my clients—began in the shadow of failure. Not because failure gave us answers, but because it gave us space to finally ask better questions.

Should I give up after failure?

You might need to give something up—but it’s probably not your dream.

What often needs releasing is the version of success that was never really yours.

The image you were trying to uphold.

The rhythm that kept you busy, but never fulfilled.

When I stopped striving and started listening, I discovered what I actually wanted. Not the loud, shiny version of success—but the real, grounded version. One that has space for rest, creativity, autonomy, and truth.

Giving up isn’t always quitting. Sometimes, it’s an act of returning—to yourself.

You haven’t failed—you’re just ready for something more

That year I thought I’d failed turned out to be the beginning of something far more honest. 

I let go of chasing and started tuning in. I redefined what success meant—not by what others expected, but by what I deeply needed. And slowly, I built a life around that. 

This year, I turned 52.

And here’s what success looks like to me now: 

• Spending my birthday at the spa with my husband and daughter 

• Taking 10 weeks of holiday a year 

• Jumping out of bed on Monday mornings, excited to start work 

• Looking forward to every client session 

• Having time when my daughter really needs me 

• Cherished weekend meet-ups with close friends 

I feel deeply grateful—not just to have this life, but to be present in it. 

If I could speak to my 33-year-old self, I’d say: 

Keep going.

It’s okay to slow down to find your way.

You are not behind.

Ask for support—you’re not meant to do this alone.

Find people who understand you.

Don’t search for answers in too many places.

Follow what makes you feel alive. 

One day, when we look back, we won’t remember the extra hours at the office, the promotions, or the scrolling. 

We’ll remember the people we shared our time with.

The conversations that moved us.

The relationship we had—with others, and with ourselves. 

Ready to get clear on what’s next?

If you’re a mid-career woman who wants more than just another promotion, I created this for you.

Your Next Chapter is a clarity workshop to help you find direction—on your terms. This is your invitation to stop questioning your path—and start choosing it.

It’s for women who are done trying to figure it out alone—and ready to do the deep work it takes to build a life filled with meaning, purpose, and aliveness.

Click here to read more and save your free spot.

To a life that reflects who you really are!

Love