The "voice of shame" in your head is a liar.

Stop taking the bait.

Jan 16, 2025

It took years to realize that almost every moment I’ve considered quitting on myself has been tied to failure in some way, shape, or form—

Sometimes I was afraid of the consequences that come with failure. Sometimes I was too prideful to accept the fact that I, a chronic over-achiever and perfectionist, had failed. And sometimes I just couldn’t imagine a world where trying again after failure would yield a different result.

I’ve considered giving up on myself, and life in general, more times than I can count, but my life changed for the better when I learned to accept this simple truth:

Failure isn’t an indictment of my character—it’s an inevitable part of life.

To fail is to be human.

To fail is to be alive.

To fail is a side effect of my existence.

And yet for most of my life, there was a voice in my head that told me that my failures were tied to personal deficiencies that I would never be able to fix—that I wasn’t good enough, and I never would be.

This voice would tell me to run from my failures, instead of learning from them—because maybe, if I could run away fast enough, nobody would notice how insufficient I really was.

This voice of shame told me that every time I made a mistake, everyone in my life was judging me. It categorized the praise that I received as obligatory, while interpreting every potential slight as an indictment of my ability or my character.

This voice of shame was the reason I would quit on myself when I didn’t feel like I was naturally gifted at something. It’s the reason why I spent years trying to start at the finish line of new journeys, instead of giving myself a chance to learn along the way.

I would conjure up images of perfect, consistent, decisive people, who would have known to veer to the left during the moments that found me frozen in time. I took mental snapshots of people I observed in passing, people who seemed to “have it all together,” and wondered why my everyday life didn’t match up to my glamourized perception of their own.

In hindsight, I can think of so many moments when I wish that I would have kept trying for a bit longer—not because another attempt would have changed everything, but because I could have given myself some of the second chances that I’ve always deserved.

I walked around with a chip on my shoulder because I felt like a lot of people passed judgement on me too quickly, but judged myself even more harshly. I was replicating the dynamic that I hated, and I ain’t een know it.

I picked up on this dynamic while engaging in one of my most consistent habits—overthinking. I’m always piecing together a deeper understanding of who I am, but at the same time I’m always changing. It’s a never-ending, chaotic, but somehow rewarding cycle. The same part of me that is learning to honor my mistakes is also learning to honor the quirks and peculiarities that define me.

I don’t love failure today, but in this semester of life, I am learning to live with my failures.

I must.

It’s an urgent matter.

My daughter needs to see self-forgiveness in action so that she can know how to choose it for herself. My wife deserves a partner that serve as a reflection of the self-forgiveness that she also deserves. And I deserve to live a life that makes space for the messy, beautiful process known as becoming.

As I learn this new way of being, there’s a new voice emerging in my head—and it’s not a voice of shame, but rather, self-compassion.

The more I allow it to speak, the louder it becomes.

I do my best to listen to it when it reminds me that failure is a part of life. It reminds me that a perfect human being has never existed, and that I should be proud of myself for trying, even when things don’t turn out the way I had hoped.

The new voice that I’m nurturing tells me to take a deep breath, be proud of myself for trying, and commit to learning from every mistake that I make—because experience will always be the best teacher.

It tells me that it’s okay to quit “the thing,” but that I should never quit on myself.

And, plot twist—I’m listening. I’m learning. I’m becoming the person who isn’t afraid to fail.

Thanks for reading Love Lives Here by Michell C. Clark! This post is public so feel free to share it.

Let’s write, reflect, reset, and reconnect together at my Kripalu retreat!

Less than a month to go!

Come gather, commune, and write (!) with me in real life at my “Pause and Reconnect” retreat, from February 7th - 9th!

It’s at the prestigious Kripalu Center in Stockbridge, Massachusetts.

I’m co-hosting alongside my friend and fellow wellness practitioner Pilin Anice, who is a lead member of Kripalu’s faculty.

Through the rich and healing practices of restorative yoga, pranayama, writing, dance, live drumming, and more, you will:

Connect to joy and freedom through movement.
Tap into creative power and truth through self- expression.
Create personal affirmation and intentions.
Release limiting beliefs and realize the magnificence of your true potential.

Explore your authentic self and embrace your wholeness through the power of connection and community. Return home feeling the positive effects of integration and personal transformation.

Bring your journals, comfy clothes, and favorite pens.

Learn more

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I’m Michell—I’m a 35-year-old father, husband, and writer.

I’m not the best at this whole capitalism thing, so my writing will be free for the foreseeable future. If you have the means to support the time that goes into writing these newsletters, I would deeply appreciate it..

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