There’s been a failure narrative running in the background of my life for a long time now; it is one that I have allowed, fed, and unknowingly fallen prey to time and again. There was this time in 7 th grade at a new school one hundred times bigger than my last, where I tripped over my insanely dorky shoes and fell on my face immediately upon entrance to the stadium-sized lunch room. Talk about an audience...and entrance. And yes, if you know me, I suppose I have made a habit of tripping at inopportune times; I believe my lack of coordination also clearly defines my life. Needless to say, falling on my face in front of crowds is not fun. Not only is not fun, it has become something I seriously avoid. Even if it means I hesitate a little too long before stepping or I run in the other direction. But what I am starting to learn is that not every failure is worn on your face … because I am just not as powerful or in control as I imagine myself to be, as much as I want to be