[Essay 3] The Memory of Failure Was a Light That Shone on Someone

—The Day 'Me at 50' Finally Faced Myself—

(Essay Series: Beyond the Cloudy Sky)

'It's a hassle.'

With these words, I have continued to lose important things in my life.

As a soccer coach, it was a hassle to face the players. As a husband, I kept running away from dialogue with my wife. As a father, I was afraid to hear my children's true feelings.

Approaching my 50s, I finally realized. What I was afraid of was not 'failure,' but 'admitting my own weakness.'

Back then, a thick, cloudy sky hung over my head indefinitely. I couldn't feel even a hint of it clearing up.

However, a few years later, I would realize that that very cloudy sky was the material for a light that would shine on someone else.

What I lost because of 'it's a hassle'

Soccer coaching days: A shield called 'logical argument'

The beginning of the cloudy sky was on the pitch.

When the losses continued, I made excuses, saying, 'We focus on development.' I thought that if I used the shield of logical argument, I wouldn't get hurt.

But in truth, I knew. What was a hassle was facing the 'earnest eyes of the children.' I was afraid to re-examine the shortcomings of my own coaching.

When a player voiced an opinion during a meeting, I cut them off, saying, 'We don't have time, so let's do it another time.'

That 'another time' never actually came.

I was running away not from the results, but from myself.

The biggest escape of my life: The pitch called family

That 'habit of running away' eventually destroyed the most important place for me.

When my relationship with my wife began to crumble, I was the same. It was a hassle to talk things through. I was afraid of clashing emotions. I didn't have the resolve to accept the other person's pain.

"It's too late to talk about anything now; nothing will change."

For every night I chose silence like that, the distance in our hearts grew wider.

And in the end, all that remained was the regret of being a "husband who ran away."

Whether on the pitch of life or the pitch of family,
I was repeating the same mistakes.

A single comment changed everything

Rehabilitation called "writing"

Facing someone again was terrifying.

But, with the feeling that it didn't matter if it reached anyone, I started writing about my past experiences on note.

It wasn't a message to others, but a letter to myself, the one who had kept running away.
Excuses like "focusing on development" or the lid of "it's too much trouble" no longer worked.

For the first time, I was able to look directly at my cowardice as a coach and as a husband without romanticizing it.

Writing was a form of "rehabilitation" to recover my heart.

The moment the memory of failure turned into "light"

One day, I gathered the courage to publish an article where I honestly wrote about my "experience of running away."
I was scared. I trembled, wondering if I would be criticized.

But what I received was an unexpected remark.

"It comes across that you have always been dedicated to work that supports people, and it is very heartwarming."

This comment from a reader instantly broke through my cloudy sky.

Someone had accepted my "character," the one I had been running away from.
They had accepted my past, full of failures, and called it "heartwarming" in its entirety.

My writing, which had avoided dialogue with others,
was, for the first time, facing the heart of a stranger head-on.

That night, I realized.

The failures I had been carrying under a cloudy sky
were, in fact, the material for a light that could illuminate someone else's heart.

What I want to tell you now

The cloudy sky has not completely disappeared.

In a fleeting moment, I remember the person I was back then.
But I no longer think of that sky as a 'past I want to hide'.

It is proof that I was immature, and
it is also proof that I have continued to face it by writing without running away.

'Facing people' first meant facing the 'self that ran away'.

Not to judge the past, but
to accept that 'because of that failure, I am here today'.

By doing so, I was finally able to open my heart without pretense to the people in front of me—
the nursing care users, my family, and the readers of note,
and truly open up.

A thick, cloudy sky may still be spreading over your head as well.

But please do not be afraid.

That memory of failure is precisely
what will become your own unique source of light,
and the day will surely come when it turns into a story that illuminates someone else.

If my cloudy sky illuminates someone's dawn,
that alone is enough.

Today, once again, as a human being,
I think I will start by 'facing things'.

Beyond the cloudy sky

This is a serialized essay for me, in my 50s, to 'live my life over again'.

Next time: 'The story of how my life quietly began to move the moment I accepted my weakness'

I sincerely thank the first comment that gave me the inspiration to write this article.
Your words broke through my cloudy sky.

If this article reached your heart even a little, please let me know with a like or a comment.
Your words might just break through someone else's cloudy sky as well.

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