There are two types of people:
those that count their lives by their successes
and those that keep time by defeat.
I am of the latter category.
Falling down, and getting bruised and bloodied is so much more memorable than sticking the landing and going about your business.
Success is easy.
It's failure that is difficult.
So as I lay awake at night,
at that point in time when you are totally alone even if someone is sleeping next to you,
I recount my failures.
I remember dropping the ball in the big game
more clearly than I remember making the game winning shot.
The sting of my first rejection is much more palpable
than the sweetness of my first embrace.
But it was in those moments of failure I tried my damnedest.
The losses, the close calls, the might-have-beens make me feel alive.
Through rejection I tested the limits of my body and soul and came to know who I am,
whoever that is.
It's not the times I came up short that shake me to my bones.
As I lay awake at night, in that time when you are totally alone, the times I never tried in the first place come to haunt me.
To count those potential victories never realized is much more daunting than adding up all the losses I have had to this point.