How did you separate the failure of a thing from the failure of yourself?

I once worked with a colleague who had spent about ten years as an engineer and project manager at a large technology company. He believed he had found a kind of electronic glass with features that would become very popular, so he left his job and started a company with several colleagues. He put a great deal of his own money into making a special product. For two years, they solved one problem only to meet another. Eventually he had spent all his money. He had even sold his home, so he no longer had a place to live. In the end, the project failed, the team separated, and everyone had to look for work again. He came to our company and became my colleague. When he talks about that time now, I think he would choose differently if he could go back. He might have stayed at his old company instead of trying to build one of his own. His experience changed how I think about risk. The challenge may be exciting, but sometimes we need to think even more seriously about the difficulties waiting inside it.

I grew up hearing that when something fails, I should look for the reason in myself: What did I do wrong? What can I improve? That can be useful, but it can also become misleading. It can make every outcome feel like evidence about who you are. I remembered this because of a difficult period at a previous company. A new manager seemed determined to diminish me. At the time, I kept asking myself what I had done wrong. I assumed that if I worked hard, treated everyone well, and was capable, people would like me. But the situation was more complicated. I was one of the strongest engineers in the organization, and senior leaders already knew and trusted me. The new manager was also trying to establish authority and prove their technical leadership. Looking back, I can see that the conflict was not simply a performance problem or a failure on my part. I was young then, and eventually I decided to leave. Now I think the important thing is not to treat yourself as the dominating factor in everything that happens. The world is made of many people and many conditions, and you are only one of them. That applies to success as well as failure. When you succeed or lose, it is not just you. Remembering that makes life easier—and most of the time, better—because you do not torture yourself trying to fix what was never yours alone to control.

I don’t think one thing failing should define my whole self. In meetings, I used to say an idea, have someone reject it, and get angry. I would stop listening to the opinions being offered and insist that I was right. Then I would end up unable to get down from the position I had put myself in. After being left in that position many times, I suddenly began to reflect. If something fails, I think I need to look back at where the problem was and why I handled it that way. Then, if something similar happens again, I can remember. Now I tend to listen first. I am still learning to separate the failure of an idea, or the way I handled a moment, from the failure of myself.