No Failures, Only Lessons: A Reflection on Growth

I never imagined I’d find myself deeply immersed in personal development, let alone speaking about it. In the early days, I was a survivor who hadn’t wanted therapy, someone riding the relentless waves of change in a company I had built from the ground up. I was focused on day-to-day operations, not self-reflection. And like so many, I didn’t yet have words for what was happening beneath the surface, the cPTSD, trauma responses, patterns shaped long before I understood them.

Growth doesn’t always look graceful. Sometimes it looks like exhaustion, like making hard business decisions, like putting one foot in front of the other. And sometimes, if we’re lucky, we stumble across something, a book, a moment of stillness, a conversation, that shifts our course in ways we don’t immediately recognise.

This passage from Resolve is one of those moments in my story. It’s about navigating a crisis, about finding an unexpected entry point into personal growth, and about the slow realisation that healing and leadership are intertwined.

Wherever you are in your own journey, I hope these words offer something—a reflection, a sense of possibility, or simply the reminder that you are not alone in riding the waves of change.

I can be changed by what happens to me, but I refuse to be reduced by it. – Maya Angelou, Author

There Are No Failures, Only Lessons

By 2008, those first dabbles in healing and hypnotherapy had made a small difference. I could feel myself shifting and feeling lighter, but I was not going to be able to give that part of me anymore airtime for the moment. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was about to lead the company through a chaotic time of challenge that stretched me to breaking point.

Without warning, our company took a massive hit from the impact of the global financial crisis (GFC) on the healthcare sector. Funding and spending in the whole sector were drastically reduced within a very short time, decimating our clients’ ability and readiness to spend on temporary staffing.

Our demand dropped catastrophically overnight, and we had no choice but to adjust quickly or close the business. We shut down three satellite offices we’d just opened and poured all our efforts and money into. We had to respond quickly and do whatever was necessary to keep the company afloat and survive the next few years.

It was a very tough time. Big changes and sacrifices rocked us every week, but we had to let go and accept them just to keep the business afloat, as many others folded at this time. We battened down the hatches and rode the storm, which had an effect not only on the business but our family too as stress levels rocketed at the same time as our budget was drastically reduced.

Eventually things began to stabilise, but just as we were coming up for air, an entirely new difficulty raised its head: the swine flu pandemic. We were suddenly tasked with helping to design and implement new measures to reduce the spread of infection, not only among our own workers, but all of the healthcare professionals.

At the same time, due to many medical professionals getting sick and the need to enforce quarantine protocols, there was a huge extra demand for temporary staff.

That crisis shifted our relationship with the industry, requiring us to step up as partners to the government and other regulatory bodies, not only as suppliers of staff as businesses like ours had been thought of before. All the hard work we had done previously put us in a unique position to provide help to the industry and all the people working in it, or supported by it. We suddenly became important players, with a heavy burden of responsibility for the entire community in a time of crisis.

In a very short period of time, we went from one extreme to the other. I forgot all about high achieving, and my desire for success was thrown out the window. I experienced survival, commitment to serve and plenty of hard work—digging deep daily for new ways to sustain our business and support the industry. Once again, I was thrown into a whirlwind of work that gave me almost no time and space for myself, but this time there was a sense that I was doing it for different reasons. The feeling that I was somehow avoiding my inner work by running from one crisis to another was still there, but definitely less. I actually longed for some time to myself, and a chance to reconnect with some of the healing work I had been doing before.

Sometimes without even looking, it found me! I recall being incredibly tired on a Friday afternoon and taking an early mark from work, thankful for a Mother’s Day gift voucher to the local spa, where I practically had a book drop into my lap.

I was in the lounge area, waiting to be called for my massage. On the magazine rack across the room from my lounge, I saw a small paperback. The title was intriguing, ‘The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari’, by Robin Sharma (1998). I read the back cover and thought to myself, When the student is ready, the teacher appears. It felt like a breeze had blown through me to free the cobwebs of tiredness. I placed it back where I’d found it to go and enjoy the massage, and before I drove home I stopped in at the local bookstore and picked up a copy. It was a short, easy read, and I flew through it cover-to-cover over the weekend.

Robin introduced me to journalling and meditation, and I set up my first thirty-day habit creator with some new personal, life-enriching activities. I felt an opportunity for change that hadn’t been possible before. Not a difficult transition that required struggle, but one that was about ease and self-care, and giving myself the beauty and grace of new rituals.

All the new practices were about self-love, self-care, and self-awareness. I changed a lot during that time, largely because of my new habits, I believe. I’d never meditated regularly before, but I found especially visualisation to be a powerful exercise for me. It suited me. Afterwards, journaling what I saw in those visualisations set me up calmly for the day and even made me more productive at work.

The peace I was finding in my inner life began to be reflected in my business life as well. Our hard work and determination had paid off; we’d survived the GFC, and the swine flu had been a profitable time for agencies. There was still a lot of work to be done, and plenty of pressure and responsibility, but a time of relative peace descended upon us. We lived in a lovely house on top of a hill, our back gate opening onto the National Park. I’d rise early and put on my iPod, and as I walked through the forest at dawn for an hour I’d listen to Robin’s lessons.

I hadn’t listened to spiritual leaders such as Deepak Chopra and Osho before that. The slow pace at which they talked would drive me crazy. But now I was slipping into a space where my tolerance was changing, I was becoming more present, and I approached life with far more clarity.

Gradually I was led on a slow and intriguing 180-degree turn away from my drive to be a high achiever in business with these early dabbles in therapies, and reading the books of inspiring leaders. I’d return to the office from a personal or professional development event, and it wouldn’t be long before someone would ask, ‘So, do you feel like it changed you?’ I’d smile and say, ‘Yes, it did’, but I didn’t need to flash it around. It was an internal change for me. I felt clear-minded, purposeful, confident and empowered.

As inspired as I felt, I was conscious that I was still ducking and dodging asking for direct professional help to recover from the sexual abuse. I was secretly hoping all this self-nurturing I was giving myself was going to magically fix that ‘stuff’ for me without needing to speak about it. How good would that be? Magic!

After the hypnotherapy I’d had earlier, I rarely thought about Darryl anymore—maybe releasing him in that visualisation of forgiveness was enough of a change for now? I have no doubt now that exercise was a significant release for me. However, I hadn’t given that healing moment much of a thought afterwards. It’s only now when I look back at it years later that I realise the significance it had.

Darryl was gone from my life. My mum was the only person in my circle who ever mentioned his name, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from sharing his news with me despite my many requests not to.

Embracing the Lessons

Looking back, I can see that every challenge, whether in business, healing, or leadership, offered me something valuable, even when I didn’t recognise it at the time. Growth doesn’t come in a straight line, and healing isn’t something we check off a list. It’s layered, surprising, and often shaped by the smallest decisions we make in the quiet moments of our lives.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: the lessons are always there, waiting for us. We don’t have to rush toward them, and we don’t need to have everything figured out today. But we do have to stay open to new ways of thinking, to the possibility of change, and to the truth that we are capable of more than we once believed.

As you move through your own journey, whether you’re navigating personal growth, leadership, or simply finding your footing after a storm, I hope you give yourself grace. No failure, no setback, no moment of uncertainty can take away what you are learning and becoming.

Until next time, take care of yourself.

Shared with love,

Alice