How many times could I fail?

The more I reflect on the last few years, the more obvious it becomes that I’ve failed far more times than I’ve succeeded.

And a lot of those failures? No one knows about them.

They don’t show up in tweets or updates. They’re not in blog posts. But they’re there, quietly shaping everything.

“Until death, all defeat is psychological.”

You can lose a battle and still be in the game, but if your mind taps out, that’s when you’re actually done. And I think that’s what I’ve been learning over and over again, especially in moments that don’t go the way I hoped.

I try my best to be open online. I share some of my wins, occasional low points, maybe a few lessons here and there. But I don’t talk enough about the failures. The ones that make you pause and wonder if you’re on the right path at all.

The truth is, if you’re someone who’s actively trying to grow, build, create, or improve anything, you’re going to fail. A lot. And most of those failures won’t be dramatic. They’ll be small, sometimes quiet, but they’ll sting.

They’ll stack up.

But funny enough, they start to build something over time. Something that looks like progress.

Recently, my visa application was rejected—twice, actually. I still don’t know why. I did everything right, submitted every document, and followed every instruction, and still, it didn’t go through.

Objectively, it doesn’t impact my life in any huge way. I’m still working, I’m still building what I want to build. But it hit me emotionally. It’s always the things you don’t expect that leave a mark.

That experience reminded me of something I’ve believed for a while now: rejection is just redirection.

Sometimes it’s life nudging you toward a different path or making you more prepared for the next opportunity. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck in the moment, but it does mean you don’t have to treat it like the end of the story.

I’ve always believed in luck, but my version of luck has always been tied to effort.

I believe good things happen when I’m consistently doing the work. If something falls apart outside my control, that’s just life doing its thing. It’s not personal. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t good enough. It just means I have to keep moving.

Because ultimately, the people who fail the most are the ones who are actually trying. You can’t fail if you don’t show up. And I’m still showing up.

In work, in the gym, in my running, in relationships—everything I care about, I’m still in it. Still figuring it out. Still pushing forward.

I started working at beehiiv when I was 20. It took me a full year to prove I could actually add value. Before that, I worked with a bunch of startups too, and also spent months sending cold emails. That’s a version of failure most people don’t see, but it’s real. It’s part of the story. It made me better.

I share my runs sometimes. But I’m not an elite athlete. I couldn’t even run a kilometer without stopping when I started. I was just someone who wanted to try. That’s not an overnight win. That’s the result of showing up, often when I didn’t feel like it. Today, I can run a kilometer in 6.32 minutes.

Same with this visa rejection. It’s not my first. It won’t be my last. But I reapplied anyway. Because I’d rather deal with another “no” than sit around wondering what could’ve happened if I tried again.

For a second, I did question myself. I think we all do. But then I remembered something that helped: a lot of the best things in my life started right after something didn’t work out. The job I didn’t get. The opportunity I missed. The person I lost.

Sometimes the hard stuff clears the space for better things to show up, and alongside this, I absolutely hate feeling sorry about myself.

I don’t think we give ourselves enough credit for the things we’ve navigated. We’re so focused on what’s next, we forget what it took to get here. And that’s okay. It’s human. But I try to remind myself often: I can’t control every outcome, but I can control my effort. That’s the only part of the equation I own fully.

I have this version of my future in mind—where I’m doing meaningful work, not necessarily flashy or famous, but useful. Impactful. The kind that makes life feel worthwhile. The kind that helps people, even if it’s in small ways (money will be a byproduct).

And I know that version of the future won’t come from winning all the time. It’ll come from trying. Failing. Learning. Repeating.

So if you’re in a season where things aren’t clicking, or you’ve had a few losses in a row, just know that it’s part of it. It doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re playing the game.

Believe in yourself. Build your own luck. Show up, even when you’re not sure it’ll work.

It might not fall into place this year. Maybe not even next. But it will. Eventually. That’s just how momentum works.

Just don’t be the reason you hold yourself back. That’s the kind of regret that really sticks.

– Kanishka