Yoda famously said, “The greatest teacher, failure is.” When we deprive ourselves of failure, we deprive ourselves of the most powerful lessons life offers us. And yet, we often shy away from action because of our fear of failure. We see the possibility of failure as the greatest risk we face. Our concern for this risk– the risk of failure– often drives our decision-making. But our preoccupation with what might go wrong and our fear of failing often blinds us to a much greater risk that we do not actively consider: the risk of inaction.
When we evaluate a decision, we often measure it against a “safe” default—the risk of doing nothing. The problem is that this base case isn’t as safe as it seems. We can easily imagine the risk of going out on a Friday night and embarrassing ourselves, but we rarely stop to ask: What’s the risk of staying in? Sure, staying home avoids embarrassment, but it also risks isolation or missed connections that could enrich our lives. More to the point, if we do go out and failure is some way, that failure becomes a learning experience. Viewed in this light, the risks of going out are quite small, because either we increase our connection, or we fail at that but gain some important learning. The real risk is that we do not go out at all– in that case, we neither connect with others, nor do we fail and thereby learn.
This broader view is important because the base case isn’t neutral—it carries risks, too. For instance, starting a business might fail and cost us money or pride. But the failure of the business is not really a failure if we learn from the experience. However, not starting a business might mean never living the life we want– and, it means not learning.
We see failure as the opposite of success, a sign that we’ve lost or fallen short. But this definition is flawed. Often, the real failure is never taking the risk in the first place. We tell ourselves that we are playing it safe– but never venturing out, never learning– is risky! Venturing out means lots of things– it means falling in love, being your authentic self, it means chasing what is important to you. Sometimes, it means having hard conversations that we’d rather avoid.
When treating patients with substance use disorders, I frequently talk about how the only true failure is failing to learn from mistakes. In this context, relapse is not failure; it’s an opportunity to learn, adapt, and grow stronger. Life is no different. If we redefine failure not as the absence of success but as the absence of effort or growth, then taking risks—even when we stumble—becomes a path to wisdom.
Perhaps the risk we should be most concerned with is not the risk of failure, but the risk of stagnation, the risk of not learning, the risk of regret. If we view risk through this lens, things look different. If fear stagnation, then failure is barely a concern, it's just an avenue for growth. When we start a project, of course our preference is for success, but both success and failure can lead to growth. The risk of stagnation is highest if we do not start the project at all.
For individuals actively using substances and wanting to stop, the fear of failure can be overwhelming. The desire to change is often accompanied by the question: What if I try and I fail? This fear can be paralyzing, leading many to avoid taking the first steps toward recovery. But in this context, the greatest risk is not in failing to quit—it’s in not trying at all.
Substance use disorder is often a cycle of attempts, setbacks, and learning, where relapse, though painful, is not a definitive failure but part of the process. Each attempt, even without sustained sobriety, offers valuable insights into triggers, challenges, and personal strengths, which can inform future efforts. The true failure lies in failing to learn from these experiences or choosing not to try again. The risks of inaction—continued use leading to deteriorating health, broken relationships, and missed growth—are far greater than those of relapse. By reframing relapse as a teacher, individuals can approach recovery with resilience, understanding that recovery is about persistence and learning, not perfection.
The link between risk and failure is one we often take for granted. We view failure as the greatest risk, the thing we must avoid at all costs. But when we see failure through this lens, we ignore a more insidious danger—the hidden risk of avoiding failure entirely. By steering clear of failure, we rob ourselves of the opportunity to learn, grow, and improve.
The real risk lies not in trying and failing but in failing to try. Inaction carries its own set of risks: the risk of stagnation, the risk of regret, and the risk of missing out on the wisdom that only comes through struggle. When we shy away from action, we gamble with the chance to gain life’s most valuable lessons.
Reframing failure as an invaluable teacher allows us to recalibrate how we think about risk. Rather than asking, What if I fail? we can ask, What will I miss out on if I don’t try? What is the cost of staying in my comfort zone? This shift helps us see that avoiding failure doesn’t eliminate risk; it simply swaps one set of risks for another—often far greater and more limiting in the long term.
By understanding this hidden risk, we can approach decisions with a new perspective. Instead of fearing failure, we can embrace it as a necessary step toward growth. Instead of avoiding challenges, we can take them on, knowing that the lessons learned along the way far outweigh the discomfort of stumbling or the joy of success. The greatest risk we face is not failure, its something else entirely.
Cheers,
Doc
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