Lindsay Woods: Let me be clear; there is no shame in failing. It is an unhealthy paradigm to suggest otherwise

It is not very often that the opportunity is afforded to write a public ‘Thank You’. A love note of sorts to those who have supported and engaged each week in regards to the myriad of topics I have had the privilege to discuss. Such platitudes are often reserved for occasions which denote success; a promotion at work, college graduation etc. Oscar acceptance speeches are themselves the ultimate masterclass in effusive outpourings of gratefulness. Yet, what if your expression of thanks is not as a result of success?

There is a tendency to only speak of failure in the past tense. A facet most evident in the online domain. It is used, almost as a tool, to justify success or materialistic attributes; ‘I had to go through so much and work so hard to get where I am…if you only knew the struggle?’

As if only at that point, the point where we reach our version of same, are we comfortable in acknowledging those times where we felt less comfortable. But therein lies the rub in said narrative; by only speaking of trying times once our lives are bountiful, it casts a shadow of shame upon the subject of failure.

Let me be clear; there is no shame in failing. It is an unhealthy paradigm to suggest otherwise. I do not use the peaks and troughs of my life as a benchmark to how I feel society should view me; and nor should you. In my experience, when you feel you should remain guarded; is exactly the moment you should remain the opposite.

Therefore, in the vein of transparency and my refusal to encourage the aforementioned narrative, I revealed online that this very space here would continue without me in the New Year. I was not entirely prepared for what followed.

I want to stress that this was by far an exercise in vanity; I do not subscribe to the rhetoric of, ‘Tell me how wonderful I am?’

The aim was, to highlight in real-time, the situation as it arose. My inbox lit up. To this day, I am still wading through same to reply to each individual. Many had found themselves in similar situations; some had been dealing with those circumstances for several months but had not spoken to anyone. Inevitably, we had a degree of what I like to call, ‘The Chicken Little Brigade’-those who entwine their fingers to wring them skyward whilst intoning, ‘The sky is falling!’ followed by, ‘What will you do now?’ Well meaning in their intentions they, nonetheless, require a significant amount of hand-holding to allay their fears.

Borne from this, I asked people to share the advice that they would be taking into the New Year. As the submissions ticked over into the hundreds and then the thousands, I picked my way through them to highlight a selection and share them.

The common denominator amongst them all was, ‘Hope’. It was an incredibly human moment to see, as such, during a year which had been turbulent for many. Because the world will move for people. I believe in people. I believe in the stories they wish to share and I am beyond appreciative of those who have allowed me to listen to theirs.

If I were to reel off the list of people who are due my thanks it would need a considerably larger space than this. It would however include the likes of the two ladies, who stopped me one day on exiting the cemetery and encircled me to say how they read my words each week and had asked their daughters to set them up on Instagram to talk to me - they still to this day send me wayward emojis. It would also include my wonderful editor who took a chance and gave me a shot. It would also mention the woman who I met in the carpark of the supermarket, who duly burst into tears as she spoke about my piece on miscarriage; which promptly made me cry and then attempt to load her shopping into her car while we both snivelled.

To the people who gave me their words during the referendum, to the man who wouldn’t charge me for a repair on my mother’s bicycle because, “I like what you write. You have a bit of sense”, to everyone who told me their stories and continue to do so, to the couple in front of me in the queue in the newsagents who gave me my moniker by enquiring, ‘Are you that girl in the paper?’

Which is why, it is impossible to look back upon this and not view it in a positive light. I have enjoyed every word. It seems almost not enough to say so yet at the same time, just the right amount. Thank you.

@thegirlinthepaper