on being a failure. and liking it.

There are two things that I want to learn to do well before I die: speak Spanish and dance. The Dominican Republic happens to be an excellent place to learn both of these things; this particular group of Spanish speakers practically come out of the womb dancing to bachata, merengue and sometimes salsa.

Yet at this point, my skills in both of these areas are severely lacking. And here’s something I’ve learned about myself since being here – I am absolutely terrified of failure. It’s taken me a long time to realize this, because I rarely allow myself to experience it. When I’m not immediately good at things, I tend to give up and move on to something that I already know or can pick up quickly.

And here I am, in the middle of the Caribbean, in a place where both Spanish and dancing are an inherent part of culture. Meaning that these things that utterly confound and frustrate and tantalize me are like breathing to everyone else; I struggle to find the right verb conjugation and move my feet at the right time while everyone else can do both at once!

I’m learning that not everything will come naturally, but there’s a chance that it’s worth the effort. Most importantly, it is alright for me to look silly and sound like a first grader and just to be wrong sometimes. So here’s to facing your fears. Here’s to failure. Here’s to asking people to repeat themselves three times, and very slowly please. Here’s to stepping on your partner’s feet. Here’s to trying again. And again and again and again.

Here’s to making yourself into exactly the person you’ve always wanted to become.