"I FAILED ME" - by Abisolina

“I failed me” is a sentence that cuts inward. It does not accuse the world, fate, or circumstance—it turns the mirror toward the self. When spoken by a girl, a woman, a mother, it carries layers of expectation, sacrifice, and quiet promises once made in hope. It is the language of someone who believed they would be more protected, more prepared, more fulfilled than they feel today.As a girl, failure often begins early and silently. It starts when you learn to be smaller than your dreams, quieter than your thoughts, tougher than your age. You are taught—sometimes gently, sometimes harshly—to endure. When innocence is rushed, when trust is broken, or when guidance is absent, the girl inside grows up blaming herself for not knowing what she was never taught. “I failed me” becomes the echo of a childhood where survival was mistaken for strength, and vulnerability felt like a luxury you could not afford.As a woman, the weight intensifies. Society hands you a long list of roles and measures your worth by how well you perform them—be strong but soft, independent but accommodating, ambitious but not intimidating. When relationships fail, when dreams stall, when boundaries are crossed too many times, the woman often turns inward and asks, Why didn’t I do better? Why didn’t I leave sooner? Why did I stay silent? “I failed me” becomes the punishment for choices made with limited options and imperfect information. It ignores how often those choices were shaped by fear, love, duty, or the simple need to survive.Motherhood adds another, heavier layer. To fail as a mother feels unforgivable because motherhood is framed as instinctive, endless, and selfless. When exhaustion wins, when patience runs out, when resources fall short, guilt rushes in. A mother measures herself by her children’s smiles, their stability, their outcomes—and when life does not turn out as imagined, she carries the blame alone. “I failed me” quietly expands into I failed them, even when she has given more than she had to give.What this insight reveals, however, is not true failure—it is unmet compassion. The statement “I failed me” often overlooks context: the lack of support, the emotional labor no one saw, the resilience it took just to keep going. It forgets that becoming a girl, a woman, a mother is not a straight path but a terrain filled with detours, losses, and lessons learned too late to prevent pain.Real failure would have been refusing to feel, refusing to reflect, refusing to care. The very fact that you can say “I failed me” means you still hold standards, values, and a vision of who you hoped to be. That is not the voice of defeat; it is the voice of awakening. It is grief for the self you wanted to protect and the life you wanted to build.Healing begins when the sentence softens. When “I failed me” becomes I did the best I could with what I knew then. When accountability is balanced with mercy. When a girl forgives herself for being young, a woman forgives herself for being human, and a mother forgives herself for being tired.You did not fail because you struggled. You struggled because you carried too much for too long. And insight—this painful, honest insight—is the first step toward rewriting the story. Not as a tale of failure, but as one of endurance, growth, and the quiet courage to begin again. NOTE;Your failure does not define youAccept your failure as a life lessonStand up and let the world hear your voiceYou are YOU and nothing can change thatYou are peculiar in your own wayPeople's opinion about you does not matterYour failure is a ladder to greater heightsHave it in mind that you can do better than that.And lastly,Love yourself no matter what.

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