In the creative world, we talk a lot about failure.

We dissect failed pitches, rejected logos, unliked Instagram posts. We analyse what went wrong, why it didn’t work, what we’ll do differently next time. And while that’s all useful, sometimes failure shows up in our lives in ways that don’t fit neatly into a client feedback loop.

Sometimes, it has nothing to do with branding, or web design, or visual strategy at all.

This is a story about that kind of failure. The kind that shakes your sense of self in ways no rejected logo ever could.

A Different Kind of Failure

A few years ago, I donated a kidney to my mum.

She’d been in renal failure for most of my life. It was something we lived with, adapted around, carried quietly in the background of birthdays and school runs. Once I was old enough, I got tested. I was a match. And without hesitation, I said yes.

Why wouldn’t I? It was my mum. I had an extra. She needed one. Simple.

The surgery itself went as expected. But somewhere along the way, something didn’t go to plan.

The kidney didn’t take.

It failed.

And even though everyone told me it wasn’t my fault — that these things just happen — I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was.

It felt like my failure.

What followed were years of guilt, self-blame, and a quiet kind of grief that crept in around the edges of hospital visits and medication lists. While my mum was fighting for her health, I was silently navigating a storm of self-doubt.

And here’s the twist: a few years later, my sister also donated a kidney. That one worked. She became the family’s official hero. And me? I smiled through it. Said I was fine.

Totally fine.

But the truth is, I was carrying something I didn’t have language for at the time. A story that said:

“You failed her.”

And because I’m a creative — a branding designer, a problem-solver, a visual storyteller — I didn’t just feel the story. I crafted it. I built it into my identity like a design system with failure as the core element.

When Failure Becomes Identity

Now, years later, as a Creative Coach working with designers, freelancers, and founders, I see this same pattern show up all the time.

It looks like this:

• A client hates the branding concept.
• A website launch flops.
• A post gets zero engagement.
• A project is shelved with no explanation.
• A logo you loved gets torn apart in feedback.
  

And instead of seeing those as isolated events — things that happened outside of us — we wrap them around our identity.

We stop saying “That didn’t go well.”

And we start saying “I’m not good at this.”

We don’t just fail.

We become failures.

This is the danger of being a deeply invested creative. We pour so much of ourselves into our work that the line between what we do and who we are becomes blurry.

So when something doesn’t land, we don’t just grieve the idea.

We grieve our worth.

The Truth About Failure (That Took Me Years to Learn)

Here’s what I’ve come to believe — not just intellectually, but in the bones of me:

Failing is an event.

Failure is a judgment.

One is what happened.

The other is what you told yourself about what happened.

A kidney failed. That was the event.

But the story I built — that I was a failure, that I didn’t try hard enough, that I wasn’t enough — was something else entirely.

We do this in our work, too.

A rejected proposal becomes a referendum on our talent.

A quiet inbox becomes a symbol of our irrelevance.

An offhand client comment becomes a permanent label.

And before long, we stop showing up at all.

We make ourselves smaller. We play it safe.

We say we don’t care, just to soften the blow of trying again.

But we do care. That’s the point.

Rewriting the Story

The moment everything shifted for me was when I asked myself one simple question:

“Did I fail? Or did something I tried just not work out the way I hoped?”

It sounds basic. But that small shift gave me something vital:

Distance.

Distance from the shame.

Distance from the judgment.

Distance from the story I didn’t even know I’d been telling.

And in that space, something new opened up.

A different narrative. One where:

• The launch that flopped becomes a learning experience.
• The client feedback becomes an invitation to refine.
• The failed attempt becomes proof that you showed up and cared enough to try.

And yes — even the kidney that didn’t work becomes a reminder that I loved my mum enough to offer a piece of myself. That matters. That always matters.

What It Means for Creatives and Small Business Owners

Whether you’re a freelance graphic designer, a branding consultant, or a small business owner trying to make sense of digital marketing and visual identity, here’s what I want you to take from this:

You are not your last bad pitch.

You are not your failed side hustle.

You are not your awkward website copy or the logo that didn’t land.

You’re a human being who tried something brave.

And trying counts. Especially in business. Especially in design. Especially when the world keeps demanding more, faster, shinier, better.

Trying is creative courage.

And courage is the currency of growth.

So, What Now?

If something’s gone sideways lately — and let’s face it, if you’re building a business or a brand, it probably has — ask yourself:

• Was it me?
• Or was it just something I tried that didn’t land?
• What’s the next best step?
• What have I learned from this?

Then take that step. With snacks, if needed.

And remember:

💥 You are not your failed launch.

💥 You are not the project that never went live.

💥 You are not the logo your client didn’t love.

💥 You are not the kidney that didn’t take.

You are brave. You are human. You gave a damn.

And in this messy, unpredictable creative world — that’s no small thing.

‍