I have to admit that I’m indeed afraid of failure, and I often avoid things that I’m afraid of, just like I mentioned in a previous short piece. And this is exactly the obstacle that prevents me from growing. I must do something about it.

Because I fear failure, I don’t try and instead avoid it. This keeps me from truly understanding the nature of the matter, from knowing the truth. It leads to endlessly repeating the same situation—because the more you avoid something, the less you understand it, and the less you understand it, the more afraid you become to face it. This is truly deadly. So, let me try to redefine failure. If I do that, would I be more willing to attempt what used to be considered failure (since it no longer counts as failure), and at the same time try my best to avoid failure under the new definition?

Because I avoid things out of fear, I lose all possible chances of success or growth, and will never be able to truly improve or make progress. It’s as if it makes it impossible for me to get what I want, while at the same time making it impossible to increase my chances of success. On the contrary, it even directly turns whatever chance of success I might have had into zero. So avoidance is the real failure, because it directly kills any chance of success. If there’s something I genuinely want to do and feel I should do, but I don’t do it because I’m afraid of failure and avoid it, that is the real failure. I need to try to face my fear, even if just a little at a time. Only by doing so can I understand its nature and the truth behind it. And once I understand that, the fear will begin to fade. Then next time, I can face it with more confidence. That’s when the chance of success will truly increase, and true reduction of failure becomes possible.

I don’t know if I can actually do it, but for now, I’ll start by redefining failure, “brainwashing” myself in a way, and trying to act accordingly. To be honest, I might not even need to brainwash myself—because I’m truly sick of my own avoidance.

In a previous article, I mentioned that I am a cautious person—perhaps even overly cautious—and I listed some of the problems that come with it, such as delaying action, avoiding things with a low success rate, and overanalyzing situations to the point of making them more complicated.

When it comes to delaying action, it’s actually not entirely a bad thing. I often feel grateful that I make decisions only after careful consideration, and I’m glad I didn’t impulsively say certain things. This has helped me avoid some losses and has prevented me from hurting others. So, caution itself is not the root of the problem.

However, there are indeed situations that are fleeting and don’t allow me much time to think—unless I have anticipated them and have been preparing for them all along. Otherwise, I tend to miss such moments easily. I think I need to learn how to distinguish these “fleeting opportunities” and try to see if I can act first and think later in such moments. Of course, this kind of discernment may require accumulated experience. I can make judgments based on past experiences, and also continue learning through future ones. I know I will still miss many of these opportunities, but I hope to gradually learn to recognize them, constantly remind myself, and try to act first, then reflect, and then adjust.

As for avoiding things with a low chance of success, this can be categorized under what I mentioned in another article as the “fear of failure.” But the two are slightly different: a low success rate might refer to a 10% or 20% chance, while the fear of failure can occur even when the chance of success is 50% or 60%—a scenario where it is still worth trying, yet I choose to back down. Avoiding things with very low success rates is not necessarily a bad thing—especially if the cost of failure is high, such as a major financial loss or irreversible consequences—then such caution is necessary. Of course, high risk often also means high reward, and in some situations, if I plan carefully and take a bold leap, even if the chances of success are very slim, the rewards could be tremendous. But the cost would also be very high, but these are beyond the scope of this discussion.

The real issue lies in those situations where the chance of success is not high, but the cost of failure is low, and it’s still worth trying. How can I avoid missing out on these kinds of opportunities? I can apply the way I previously redefined “failure”: although the chance of success is low, the cost of failure is not high, and the process itself is a chance to learn and grow. Viewed this way, failure is not truly failure—it’s a chance for me to improve my success rate.

Moreover, a low success rate usually means I’m unfamiliar with the task, and that unfamiliarity makes me afraid. I don’t deny this fear, but I can choose to first try the smallest step—just at the edge of my comfort zone. If it feels reasonably safe, I can then expand the zone further; if it feels too much, I can retreat, adjust, and try again. Once I become more familiar with it, I can then take bold steps forward.

As for overanalyzing, this is the part that drains me the most ?. I’ve found that it stems from both excessive caution and perfectionism. While I can sense that some of it is indeed caused by being overly cautious, and I can identify which situations fall under that, overall it seems that perfectionism plays the main role. But ultimately, both are driven by the same goal: to avoid failure and mistakes. So I tend to view overanalysis as a side effect of caution. I will go into more detail about this in the article where I talk about perfectionism.

I don’t consider myself a typical perfectionist. For example, typical perfectionists tend to have the following traits:

1.Extremely high, even unrealistic, expectations for themselves

2.Fear of failure or criticism

3.Excessive focus on mistakes, details, or flaws

4.Tying achievements to self-worth

5.Holding others to high standards as well

6.Unwillingness to accept “good enough”

7.Procrastination or inability to complete tasks

I do have a certain level of expectation for myself, but I lean more toward practicality and sustainability. I’ve already talked about the fear of failure before, so I won’t repeat it here. As for criticism, like everyone else, I do have emotional reactions when being criticized. But afterward, I still seriously consider whether the criticism is valid. If it’s not, I don’t take it too seriously. But if it is something I truly need to improve, I will make adjustments. I’m quite open to criticism, especially when it is delivered properly—I welcome it.

As for paying attention to mistakes, details, or flaws—I do pay attention to detail, and I tend to pick up on them quickly. But to say I focus on them excessively would be undeserved. Unfortunately, I’m not at that level. When it comes to mistakes and flaws, I do reflect and summarize. But if the overall result is good, I won’t dwell on them.

Regarding achievements and self-worth, I don’t believe that a person’s achievements equate to their self-worth. I also can’t recall ever thinking that way.

As for holding others to high standards, as I mentioned in a previous article, I realized at work that I might be strict with others. Later, I started to distinguish between matters that should be treated strictly and those that don’t need to be. When strictness is necessary, I insist on it, but otherwise I try to be considerate of others. Overall, I still lean more toward being understanding and empathetic.

This article will mainly focus on two points: the unwillingness to accept “good enough” and procrastination or failure to complete tasks, because I’ve realized that these two traits might fit my situation well and suggest that I may have some perfectionist tendencies.

As for these two traits, to give an example—when I want to buy something, even if it’s not expensive or even cheap but something I might use for a while, I may go through every related option, then narrow them down. Then I select a few, and from those pick one “winner.” If there are only a few options, that’s fine. But when there are many options, it takes me a lot of time to choose. Sometimes, I even put off buying altogether.

There are also some examples that have stayed with me. When I was a child—I can’t remember exactly how old, but probably around late elementary school or early middle school—I once went to a store to buy something. My mom gave me money and said, “Just get Mom a gift—anything will do.” When I got to the store, I started thinking about what I should get for her. In my heart, I thought I had to get her something she would like. If she didn’t like it, how could it be called a gift? But I honestly didn’t know what she would like. After thinking it over and over, I ended up returning empty-handed.

In fact, all my mom wanted was for her son to pick something—anything—for her. She simply wanted a gift from her son. She didn’t have any other requirements; in fact, she probably would have been happy with anything. I’ve remembered this incident ever since.

Another similar thing happened after I became an adult and started working. Once, I went out to make some purchases for company, and the costs would all be reimbursed. That day, one of my coworkers brought his little daughter to work. She was around four years old and could already talk. My boss asked me to pick up some snacks for the little one while I was out shopping. But when I got to the store, I saw that the snacks were imported and more expensive than local ones.

I thought that since I was using company money, I had to be very reasonable about how I spent it. Although I personally like kids, because I didn’t have much contact with children growing up, I wasn’t sure whether children in general would like these kinds of snacks, and whether she would like them specifically. With these two thoughts in my head, I ended up only buying the necessary supplies and returned empty-handed in terms of gifts.

When I got back, the little girl ran over quickly to see what I had brought. But when she saw that I had nothing for her, although she still had a smile on her face, she slowly walked away. I had disappointed a child. My explanation to my boss was: “I felt the snacks were too expensive, and there didn’t seem to be anything particularly good.”

Looking back now, the boss had already told me to buy snacks. If they were just a bit pricey, he definitely wouldn’t have minded.

My tendency to overanalyze likely stems to a great extent from perfectionism.
When I’m carrying out something I’m not good at—or something I’m completely unfamiliar with—and I consider it important, I tend to overanalyze. There are also other examples that have actually left me mentally exhausted, but I don’t want to go into those here.

To put it simply, I analyze not only the matter itself but even the tiniest details that may have been unintentional. Yet I still magnify and analyze them. This leads to imaginary complications that never existed, turning something simple into something complex. Not only does this raise my expectations for the outcome, but it also makes the simple process hard to carry out. It causes delays in taking action—or even giving up entirely.

And regarding this matter, I must do something; I can’t let myself continue like this.

First, I must recognize that some things can still work even if they’re not perfect.

Do you remember the example I gave from another article? Someone expressed their good feelings in a clumsy way, but still conveyed 100% of what needed to be expressed. If that person had chosen to wait for the perfect way to express it, the situation likely never would have happened—in other words, they would’ve conveyed 0% of what they intended.

I need to learn to judge when to act based on the situation.
For example, when buying something expensive, of course it’s good to research thoroughly to avoid unnecessary major losses. But if the item isn’t expensive, doing some comparison shopping is good enough—as long as everything seems reasonably fine, that’s sufficient. It doesn’t need to be “the best.”

Also, my tendency to overanalyze something often comes from the fact that it’s important to me, but I’m not familiar with it. That means instead of analyzing in advance, what I may need more is execution and feedback, followed by adjustments and planning. Otherwise, I end up analyzing blindly and creating fear that doesn’t exist.

The matter may not be that bad at all, but I might imagine it to be something negative. If I act quickly, I’ll soon see the real picture, and then I can make adjustments. Gradually, I’ll be able to actually complete the task—instead of not daring to do it at all or abandoning it because it doesn’t meet my expectations.

In other words, I can do some research and preparation beforehand, but I don’t need to be 100% ready before taking action. As long as the potential downside isn’t disastrous, I can act when I’m about 60–70% ready.

I also need to distinguish the essence of things—for example, when it comes to giving a gift. Of course, what you give is important, but even more important is the act of giving itself—it’s an expression of thoughtfulness. When I truly can’t figure out the best gift, I should stop obsessing over what the other person might be thinking and focus instead on completing the more essential part: the act of giving. If something seems impossible to do perfectly, then I should do the more important part of it well and leave the rest for later.

Preparing appropriately before doing something is absolutely the right thing to do.
But if I overdo it, it might lead to negative consequences. I need to focus more on taking action, and stop creating imaginary fears for myself.

I must recognize that imperfection still works.

I realized that the “shell” doesn’t have just one layer—it has multiple layers, and each one is different. They need to be broken one by one.
After breaking one layer, I found that the next one is a different kind of shell, and breaking it requires a different method—one that I’m not very good at.

But no problem, because I want to break it. I’ll slowly learn and try.

In some of my previous articles, I may have already mentioned the relationship between plans and reality, but I think this topic is worth mentioning on its own.

Making a plan before doing something is, of course, a good thing. But I’ve found that, especially when I’m dealing with something I’m not very familiar with, plans often become ineffective due to changes in the actual situation.

I tend to plan everything from start to finish. If it’s something I’m very familiar with, that’s totally fine, because I can roughly predict the process and the outcome. But when it comes to unfamiliar things, by the time the plan is completed, the whole situation may have already changed, making the plan no longer applicable—because planning itself also takes time, and sometimes a lot of time. Sometimes, after executing the first few steps of the plan, I find I can’t continue, because the progress differs too much from what I expected, and the rest of the plan no longer fits.

So I’ve gradually come to realize that when it comes to unfamiliar things, planning is certainly important, but what’s even more important is to start taking action as soon as possible, get feedback through practice, and then adjust the next step of the plan—repeating this cycle.