I used to be terrified of failure. A bad grade, rejection, looking dumb; the fear of those things motivated me to work just hard enough to avoid them. But being afraid of failure never ensured perfect results. I’d get a bad grade, I’d get passed over for a job, or I’d do something for the first time, and it’d be harder than I expected. Yet, there was the failure, never quite as bad as I’d imagined.

I told one of my professors that I hadn’t gotten an internship that I applied for. Her response was, “It’s just rejection.” I could not believe it. For a professor who is very invested in my future, how could she be so nonchalant about this?

Her reason was simple. If I’m not getting rejected, I’m not applying for rigorous enough programs or jobs. Of course, this didn’t sit well with my aversion to failure, but I dealt with it and realized that she was right.

If I went through life without any failure, I would never get the satisfaction of working hard for something and seeing that hard work pay off. I would have no way to measure my progress if I never failed. I would also never be able to recognize my humanity, my inability to do everything.

During spring break one year, I went skiing with my brother. I’d never gone skiing before, but I loved watching it on TV. I had spent countless hours watching the winter Olympics, so I was completely overconfident. With my irrational hopes and dreams of being a winter Olympian hanging in the balance, I gave it a shot.

Long story short, most people skied down the mountain; I fell.

At the time, I was completely embarrassed. Skiing had proved more difficult than I was prepared for. I knew a number of people who had no trouble picking it up, and here I was covered in bruises. (It might be worth mentioning that I never took lessons and just trusted my brother to teach me. He was helpful, but not as helpful as a trained person giving lessons would have been.)

But in hindsight, that trip gave me some perspective and humility. I went in thinking that I would find this innate ability for skiing. Clearly, I did not, and I walked away recognizing that I can’t do everything, and I need to put in the work before I can see the results. I’m not immune to failure.

This is not to say that I’m no longer terrified of failure, because I’m not sure that fear will ever truly leave me. But I have come to realize that failure has its advantages, and in the end, I can be better because of it.

Sometimes failure can be a good thing. It forces us to admit what we can’t do and reminds us that we are all human, complete with imperfections, and we can only stay on our own two feet for so long.