Failure Is a Bruise, Not a Tattoo

One of the most vivid memories from my childhood was the day I was bucked off my pony, Macaroni. I was only six years old. We were in an arena where my mother was giving me my very first riding lessons. 

Macaroni was stung by a bee, and she reacted by bucking. I couldn’t hang on, and I landed hard on my back. It knocked the breath out of me. I gasped for air. Then, as I finally caught my breath, I started bawling at the shock of being involuntarily dismounted. 

My mom caught the pony, led her back over to me, and gently told me to dust myself off and get back on. But by this time, I was sobbing the way kids do when they’ve cried so hard that they can’t stop. 

Failure is Just a Bruise

I shook my head and refused to get back on the pony. My mother tried her best to calm me down and reason with me, but I still refused to get back on. 

Then she took a different tactic and got tough. Her stern, direct tone of voice made it clear that she was not asking me to get back on the pony—she was telling me. That’s what I remember the most because my mom had never talked to me like that before and has rarely ever used that tone and directness since. 

“Get up, and get back on that pony now!” she admonished. 

She was unmovable. Like Teflon. My tears and pleading made no difference. I knew I had no choice, so I stood up, shaking. Still trying to catch my breath, she helped me get back on the pony. 

Right there in the riding ring, at six years old, I experienced one of the most pivotal lessons of my life. My mother taught me that failure is just a bruise, not a tattoo. 

She wasn’t being cruel; she was being protective—protective of my future self, the one who might otherwise have carried an irrational fear of horses, or an ingrained habit of backing down at the first taste of adversity into the rest of my life.

She knew that if she had let me off the hook and let me walk away from that pony, there was a good chance that I’d never get back on again. That the fear I felt when I landed on my back in the sand would grow and gain a life of its own. That I would vow to never let the pain and embarrassment of falling off happen to me again, and with that, my brush with failure would become permanent. 

Failure Can’t Really Bite You

The truth is, failure is usually a short-lived event. Yes, it’s jarring, unexpected, and can momentarily knock the breath out of you. But it doesn’t have to be the defining chapter of your story. 

That’s what my mother understood so well in that riding ring. She insisted that I face my fear, effectively telling me, “Hey, the worst part’s over. Now that you’ve experienced fear and failure, get back on and prove to yourself you can handle it.” 

Because once you push through that initial sting, you discover that the fear can’t really bite you unless you give it teeth in your own mind. 

When Failure Becomes Permanent

For far too many people, though, the pain of failure does become permanent. Instead of allowing themselves a moment to dust off and try again, they walk away in defeat—often without fully grasping the long-term impact of that decision. 

Rather than letting the bruise fade, they opt to memorialize failure in their minds, assigning it more meaning than it deserves. They replay the embarrassment and pain over and over, until it becomes an unspoken vow: “Never again.” 

And in that single choice, a brief setback can morph into a defining moment in which they forfeit the chance to learn, grow, and eventually experience the sweetness of victory.

Think about how this scenario plays out in everyday life. Maybe you dream of learning a new skill—painting, playing guitar, writing a book, starting a podcast—but in your first attempt, you falter or feel foolish. Rather than chalking it up to “beginner’s missteps,” you decide: “I’m terrible at this; I’ll never try again.”

And that small bruise becomes a tattoo right there, on the spot. You miss out on the personal growth, the fun, and potentially incredible experiences you would have discovered if you’d simply dusted yourself off and tried again.

Sales is a Tapestry of Failure

In sales, this avoidance of failure is just as prevalent, if not more so, because the stakes often involve your income or your reputation at work. 

One day, you run a sales call that goes terribly off the rails—the prospect is disinterested, you get flustered, or you stumble on a key question. You come away feeling embarrassed, incompetent, maybe even humiliated if it happened in front of your sales manager. 

That single negative experience can color your perception of future calls. You avoid that type of call, that kind of prospect, or that particular approach. You remember that unpleasant feeling so vividly that you decide it’s “safer” never to try again. 

So many sales reps finally gain the courage to cold call a C-level executive at a high-value prospect. Then freeze when they get a hard objection, leaving them feeling small and insecure. Instead of analyzing what went wrong, adjusting their approach, and trying again, they vow, “I’m never calling anyone that high up again.” 

And while that might spare them from momentary embarrassment and discomfort, the long-term consequences are enormous. Their pipeline shrinks and income tanks because they’re playing it safe. And, ultimately, their career crashes because they’re afraid to push outside of their comfort zone.

Sales Failure: Where the Bruise Can Really Hurt

Sales can be bruising. Each rejection takes a piece out of you and can feel like a blow to your self-worth. It’s easy to internalize it. Over time, a string of “no’s” can erode your confidence, making the idea of picking up the phone and calling prospects feel daunting.

Our minds can often be drama queens. When something painful happens, we cling to that memory and replay it, each time piling on new layers of negativity—“I can’t believe I said that,” “What was I thinking,” “I’m so stupid.” In reality, the prospect might barely remember it or might even respect your courage. But to you, it’s all-consuming.

But remember, a “no” in sales is rarely personal. Often, it’s circumstantial—maybe the prospect is having a bad day, or their budget cycle doesn’t align with your proposal, or they had a negative experience with a different vendor and brought that baggage with them into your presentation. 

The more you detach your self-worth from the outcome, the less likely you are to see these “no’s” as permanent markers of failure. Instead, you’ll shift your mindset. You begin to view failure as data that you can use to gain insight into how to improve. You start to treat each rejection as a chance to refine your approach.

Success Stories are Forged in Failure

The true success stories in sales almost always come from people who learned to pick themselves up, analyze the failure, and adapt. They didn’t let the fear of failure overshadow their potential for greatness.  

The best salespeople—and frankly, the happiest people—know that failure is inevitable. Rather than avoiding it, they embrace it. They feel the pain just like anyone else, but recognize that bruises eventually fade. You just have to keep moving forward in order to heal.

At the end of the day, resilience in the face of failure is a choice. It doesn’t always feel like one, especially in the raw moments right after you’ve messed up, taken a big hit, or find yourself on your back in the dirt. 

But as soon as you reclaim your power to stand up, brush off the dust, and climb back on—whether it’s a literal or figurative pony—you’ll find your perspective shifting. Failure no longer holds you hostage. It becomes a footnote in a broader story of your determination and personal growth.

Failure is Only Final If You Make That Choice

So, the next time you bomb a sales call, lose a deal you thought was a lock, get yelled at on a cold call, or face an embarrassing situation in front of your peers, remember: you get to choose. Will this be just a bruise, or will you sear it into your psyche, turning it into a tattoo of permanent self-doubt? 

My challenge to you this week is when things go wrong, to look up and get up. Get back on the phone. Set another meeting. Propose the next big idea. Trust yourself to learn, adapt, and keep going. Will yourself to stop and make one more call. 

Because failure is only final if you decide to never get back on that pony again.

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