- PPF Points
- 2,100
Why Failure Was, Weirdly Enough, the Best Thing to Ever Happen to My Business
Honestly, if you'd caught me a few years back, I'd have told you with zero hesitation that my absolute #1 fear in business was failing. Like, full-on cold-sweat terror. To me, failure just meant shame, embarrassment—pretty much an official “you suck” stamp. Ouch.
But here I am, after surviving more screw-ups, messy launches, and “am I bankrupt?” nights than I can count, yelling from the other side of the rubble: failure is the reason my business exists today. No joke.
Why? It shoved me out of my own BS. Shattered my fairy-tale fantasies. Showed me lessons I never got from overpriced masterminds or that YouTube guru with the perfect hair. Spill my guts time: here’s exactly how flopping over and over made me way, way better at this whole entrepreneur gig—and why I’m genuinely glad it all blew up in my face.
Chapter 1: The Sad, Lonely Ebook No One Wanted
Okay, so picture this: baby entrepreneur me. I spent weeks slaving over my first digital product (an ebook, of course—very original). I hyped it up everywhere, dropped cash on ads, basically wallpapered every corner of the internet with my sales page.
Launch day comes. I’m buzzing. Cue… nothing. Literally zero sales. I think I got a “maybe later” DM from my mom, which, thanks, Mom. Honestly, I was gutted. I figured this proved the universe did not want me to be That Girl.
But after the pity party, I took a real look: what did I do wrong? Well, I never even checked if people actually wanted this thing. Didn’t have a real audience, didn’t bother to see if anyone knew they had the problem I was solving. Rookie mistakes, but wow, did I learn to build trust and a community first. You can’t sell to a ghost town.
Chapter 2: My “Work for Pennies” Era
After that bomb, I figured freelancing was easier. Ha. Joke’s on me. I charged so little for my work, it was barely legal. My logic? “Cheap = more clients.” And yeah, I got a bunch. But what did that get me?
Burnout so bad I was drinking coffee at midnight.
Clients who thought my work was worth about as much as a lukewarm coffee.
Exactly $0 leftover after rent.
One particularly brutal month, I didn’t have enough cash for groceries. That woke me up, fast. Charging nothing gave off “meh” vibes. So I tripled my rates (while sweating buckets, not gonna lie)… and the right clients still showed up, only now they actually valued me. Instant boundary lesson: price yourself like you mean it, or no one else will.
Chapter 3: The Friendship-Crushing Partnership Gone Sideways
So there was that one time I teamed up with a friend to build something epic. We split everything down the middle and, not gonna lie, initially thought we were geniuses.
Two months in? Oh boy. We had total opposite working styles, commitment levels, even risk aversions. Miscommunication everywhere. Ended in a minor disaster and a slightly awkward friendship for, let’s just say, a while.
I obsessed over what I “should have seen coming.” In reality, it taught me: not every partnership is destiny—and just because you vibe doesn’t mean you’re compatible for business. Now I do contracts, boundaries, and, you know, talk honestly before sharing my passwords!
Chapter 4: The Time My Content Was Basically Scream Into The Void
Peak creative energy, piles of content everywhere… and my audience? Nowhere. No engagement, empty inbox, just crickets echoing back at me. I came this close to rage-quitting content for life.
But instead of going full dramatic, I took a hard look at what was working (or, more honestly, what wasn’t). Turns out, I was blabbing about myself way too much—never really connecting to what my audience cared about. Once I flipped that script, engagement shot up. PSA for all future creators: It’s not about you, it’s about them.
Chapter 5: The Humiliating Launch That Eventually Slayed
Fast-forward a year. I finally decide to launch a coaching program—followed all the “guru” playbooks with the fancy email funnels and timers. Big deal! And… only one person signed up (who then ghosted me, classic).
I felt like crawling into a hole. But instead of nuking the whole thing, I reached out to my audience, got brutal feedback, rebuilt, and tried again. Three months later, same offer—totally sold out in three days.
Big fat moral: Failure is just your first draft. Relaunch until you nail it. No one’s keeping score but you, anyway.
Chapter 6: Breakdown City (Nobody Talks About This Part)
Let’s get real: not all failures are on paper. Some are just… emotional implosions. There was a stretch when everything felt like it was crumbling—business, mood, sanity—the whole nine yards. Couldn’t sleep, second-guessed every move, anxiety levels through the roof.
I had revenue gaps—bills piling up while everyone else on Instagram seemed to be “crushing it.” And for a while? I honestly thought about quitting. Only, by that point, “quitting” felt like just another lesson in disguise.
And for real: looking back, all those hideous days? That’s where the magic actually happened. That’s where I figured out I’m scrappier, grittier, and more capable of bouncing back than I ever realized.
So, yeah. Wouldn’t trade my failures for anything. Cheesy but true: sometimes the breakdown is just the start of the plot twist.
Honestly, if you'd caught me a few years back, I'd have told you with zero hesitation that my absolute #1 fear in business was failing. Like, full-on cold-sweat terror. To me, failure just meant shame, embarrassment—pretty much an official “you suck” stamp. Ouch.
But here I am, after surviving more screw-ups, messy launches, and “am I bankrupt?” nights than I can count, yelling from the other side of the rubble: failure is the reason my business exists today. No joke.
Why? It shoved me out of my own BS. Shattered my fairy-tale fantasies. Showed me lessons I never got from overpriced masterminds or that YouTube guru with the perfect hair. Spill my guts time: here’s exactly how flopping over and over made me way, way better at this whole entrepreneur gig—and why I’m genuinely glad it all blew up in my face.
Chapter 1: The Sad, Lonely Ebook No One Wanted
Okay, so picture this: baby entrepreneur me. I spent weeks slaving over my first digital product (an ebook, of course—very original). I hyped it up everywhere, dropped cash on ads, basically wallpapered every corner of the internet with my sales page.
Launch day comes. I’m buzzing. Cue… nothing. Literally zero sales. I think I got a “maybe later” DM from my mom, which, thanks, Mom. Honestly, I was gutted. I figured this proved the universe did not want me to be That Girl.
But after the pity party, I took a real look: what did I do wrong? Well, I never even checked if people actually wanted this thing. Didn’t have a real audience, didn’t bother to see if anyone knew they had the problem I was solving. Rookie mistakes, but wow, did I learn to build trust and a community first. You can’t sell to a ghost town.
Chapter 2: My “Work for Pennies” Era
After that bomb, I figured freelancing was easier. Ha. Joke’s on me. I charged so little for my work, it was barely legal. My logic? “Cheap = more clients.” And yeah, I got a bunch. But what did that get me?
Burnout so bad I was drinking coffee at midnight.
Clients who thought my work was worth about as much as a lukewarm coffee.
Exactly $0 leftover after rent.
One particularly brutal month, I didn’t have enough cash for groceries. That woke me up, fast. Charging nothing gave off “meh” vibes. So I tripled my rates (while sweating buckets, not gonna lie)… and the right clients still showed up, only now they actually valued me. Instant boundary lesson: price yourself like you mean it, or no one else will.
Chapter 3: The Friendship-Crushing Partnership Gone Sideways
So there was that one time I teamed up with a friend to build something epic. We split everything down the middle and, not gonna lie, initially thought we were geniuses.
Two months in? Oh boy. We had total opposite working styles, commitment levels, even risk aversions. Miscommunication everywhere. Ended in a minor disaster and a slightly awkward friendship for, let’s just say, a while.
I obsessed over what I “should have seen coming.” In reality, it taught me: not every partnership is destiny—and just because you vibe doesn’t mean you’re compatible for business. Now I do contracts, boundaries, and, you know, talk honestly before sharing my passwords!
Chapter 4: The Time My Content Was Basically Scream Into The Void
Peak creative energy, piles of content everywhere… and my audience? Nowhere. No engagement, empty inbox, just crickets echoing back at me. I came this close to rage-quitting content for life.
But instead of going full dramatic, I took a hard look at what was working (or, more honestly, what wasn’t). Turns out, I was blabbing about myself way too much—never really connecting to what my audience cared about. Once I flipped that script, engagement shot up. PSA for all future creators: It’s not about you, it’s about them.
Chapter 5: The Humiliating Launch That Eventually Slayed
Fast-forward a year. I finally decide to launch a coaching program—followed all the “guru” playbooks with the fancy email funnels and timers. Big deal! And… only one person signed up (who then ghosted me, classic).
I felt like crawling into a hole. But instead of nuking the whole thing, I reached out to my audience, got brutal feedback, rebuilt, and tried again. Three months later, same offer—totally sold out in three days.
Big fat moral: Failure is just your first draft. Relaunch until you nail it. No one’s keeping score but you, anyway.
Chapter 6: Breakdown City (Nobody Talks About This Part)
Let’s get real: not all failures are on paper. Some are just… emotional implosions. There was a stretch when everything felt like it was crumbling—business, mood, sanity—the whole nine yards. Couldn’t sleep, second-guessed every move, anxiety levels through the roof.
I had revenue gaps—bills piling up while everyone else on Instagram seemed to be “crushing it.” And for a while? I honestly thought about quitting. Only, by that point, “quitting” felt like just another lesson in disguise.
And for real: looking back, all those hideous days? That’s where the magic actually happened. That’s where I figured out I’m scrappier, grittier, and more capable of bouncing back than I ever realized.
So, yeah. Wouldn’t trade my failures for anything. Cheesy but true: sometimes the breakdown is just the start of the plot twist.
