The gift of failure

Sitting in the waiting room, I looked down at my palms. They were sweaty and shaking. I was trying to breathe. I was trying to prepare. I needed to be more than okay, I needed to do more than survive. I needed to be amazing. I was terrified.

It was 2015 and a major television network had called me about a primetime popular singing competition show. They found my first album, Goodbye Town, somewhere in the internet, liked it, and asked if I was interested in being on the show. If I was interested, I could come to a private audition with an executive producer, and if they liked me, I would be off to Los Angeles. SO many thoughts raced through my head: Someone listened to my album? Someone at an actual legit network LIKED my album? This is an incredible opportunity. I don’t even like these shows. Is this what I want?

The thing about these singing competition shows is that its just that. It’s a competition to come be some label’s next Hunger Games Champion, stepping over other artists to fight your way to survival. I’m not a fan of competition. I think it gets in the way of creativity. I think it creates an unreal sense of scarcity. I think it keeps a lot of people from ever trying because they don’t think they can win and that hurts all of us, because as Alan Rickman said, "If only life could be a little more tender and art a little more robust."

But I’m a big believer that if a door is presented to you after you’ve been

telling the universe everything you want from your life and the door is leading you in the direction of what you want, it’s a good idea to go through the door. Because at the very least, I never want to say no to something just because I’m scared. I’m too stubborn for that.

So, I took the audition. I had one month to prepare. They told me to bring current day top 40 pop songs to sing. *Cringe* I didn’t like most top 40 pop songs in 2015. But I prepared them anyway. And I was terrified. A friend of mine at the time pulled me aside and said, “I’m not sure I want you to get this. You are a wreck. I’ve never seen you lacking so much confidence, so worried.” Other people were incredible hopeful and helpful. My boss from the job I would have to take a leave of absence from to go on the show was beyond encouraging and supportive. Chris was there every step of the way.

I walked into the audition room. They warned me that the audition could last as little as 10 seconds into my first song. They would stop me when they knew they didn’t want me. I sang through my first song. The producer was pleased. Asked for another. I sang another. He asked for a third. I sang a third. And then he leaned back in his chair, examining me. Finally he said, “You’ve clearly got talent… You could be great… I’m just not sure… You didn’t really give it to the camera, you know. I think I need to pass” The minute these words were said, an entire wave of relief washed over my entire body. I was so happy he didn’t want me. I was so happy I wasn’t going to Los Angeles. I was so happy I wasn’t locked into this trajectory of my music career. I was so happy. I floated out of the room.

I posted this pic later that day as I tried to process what had happened:

This has been the most epic 60 days in my life, like ever. And all these huge things that have happened are, for now, done and I'm looking forward to the next big surprise! I promise (to myself) to always walk through the doors that are presented and to never let fear make my decisions for me! These last 60 days have made me do that more than ever and I'm thankful for the practice! And even more than that, I have the very best people to travel all that with me.

That experience was cool for a lot of reasons. It was a new experience and I learned so much. But the crazysexycoolest part of it was that my “failure” showed me what I actually wanted from my music career. I was not filled with disappointment that I didn’t make it to the next round. Sure, there’s a twinge of “I didn’t get picked for the dodgeball team,” but mostly, I was set on a course to chase after what I really wanted. I also knew that the road to getting what I wanted out of music would mean that there wouldn’t be an easy fix, no executive producer calling me at the beginning of the journey that would give that to me.

After all, what kind of epic success story would it be if the

eagles had just flown Frodo to the fires of Mordor at the beginning of the Lord of the Rings? No, he had to traverse the mountains and fight the battles to be ready to destroy the ring. And in the same way, (because hell, we should all be the hero of our own story) I knew that I had to achieve my goals the hard way, inch by inch. And then I knew myy music career would be mine, and I could grow it into whatever I wanted.

Failure can be so much more revealing than success.

Failure is a mirror. It can show us how we really feel about the thing we were trying for. And that revelation can be much more meaningful and impactful to our long-term success than any momentary success can be. What if we embraced these momentary failures as not something where we fell short, but instead as an opportunity for our subconscious to speak. What if we let the failure sit for a moment and then we asked ourselves, how do we really feel about this failure? Is it a failure at all? Or is this experience yet another guidepost towards the real end-game?

Earlier this year, I left my amazing job and team at Amazon. My family was struggling with my lack of balance as we had just bought the family business from Chris’ dad, and the kids were in a transition in their education. And I felt like everything was falling on me to manage. I needed a break. I joined another company part-time, believing I had found my perfect solution of income, interesting work and balance. Unfortunately, 90 days later, the company announced that they were dissolving my entire department and I

wouldn’t have a job. All of a sudden I went from being too employed to unemployed and unwanted. I felt like an absolute failure. I felt like I had made the worst decisions in the world. I spent a full day in bed. The next day, I decided to get up. I decided to examine the failure and open it, see what was inside. And when I did that I realized that within this failure was actually the gift of time.

Time is something I usually never have enough of. I have a thousand project

ideas, a book I want to write, songs I want to record, records to put out, tours to go on, a family business to grow and make thrive, kids I want to take on road trips and life lessons I want to show them first hand, the list goes on. And these are things I couldn’t fully commit to doing because I was deficient in time. I realized that I had been asking the universe for more time, and boom - I had it. It didn’t come in a form that I was happy with or comfortable with. It came in a very painful form. But, it came nonetheless. And it was a gift.

The year that I've experienced has been nothing short of amazing! We started a new business, played 37 shows as Camp Crush, went on epic camping trips and road trips with kids and countless dates and lunches and wine drank on sun-filled patios. This year has been hard, scary, and full of doors I've walked through, some of which panned out, some of which did not. And, I want to keep walking through the doors, knowing that if its something that I really want and that’s really good for us, that it will pan out. And if it doesn’t, then I have an opportunity to listen, grow, pivot, and ask myself the question: what do I want from this short and fleeting life?

So, here we are today. I’m prepping for a big show tonight, writing the blog I had wanted to start writing 4 years ago, all after packing my kids’ lunches and sending them off to school. Sipping my coffee, I feel gratitude for the wins I've had and the times I fell flat on my face. Because that has created the life I have today and I love my life. It’s a good life.

Cheers to the doors in front of us and the courage to give 'em a try!

XOXO

Jen Deale

Boss Lady, Camp Crush, SBP Smoothies, Bailey & Cooper