Fear of Failure

I am a self-taught programmer, a self-taught watercolorist, and a self-taught many other things. But I have also failed at every one of them—countless times.

When I was teaching myself to code, I had sleepless nights because I couldn’t finish a project. I would get stuck. This was in the pre-internet days, when help was scarce and limited to thick, often cryptic manuals. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure things out.

When I was learning watercolor painting, all my attempts came out flat, dull, and lifeless. After many tries, I convinced myself painting wasn’t for me. I decided to throw away all my paints, brushes, and tools. But before tossing them, I figured I’d just finish the tubes of paint I had left. I went in with a kind of vengeance—there was nothing to lose at that point. I was giving it all up anyway.

This time, the goal wasn’t to paint well—it was simply to use up the materials and be done with it. There was no more fear of failure. I painted with no pressure, no expectations. My strokes were bold, confident, and spontaneous. And the painting came out lively, with a surprising sense of depth. Something clicked. At that moment, I learned how to paint.

It reminded me of learning to ride a bicycle. At first, you’re scared. You can’t go more than a few feet without slowing down too much and tipping over. Ironically, it’s the fear of falling that makes you fall—but you don’t realize it. Then, something shifts. The fear disappears. You stop overthinking. You keep your momentum—and suddenly, you’re riding.

The fear of failure is a wall. It’s wired into our genes, a relic from our caveman days. That fear helped our ancestors survive by running from lions. But we’re not running from lions anymore. Still, the fear remains. And it holds us back.

But when we figure out how to let go of that fear—that’s when we finally move forward. That’s when we succeed.