I Failed Again (And This Time, it Hurt)

One year ago, I wrote an article about failure, describing how I navigated it, learned from it, and moved forward after being rejected from the Doctorate in Clinical Psychology. This is why it feels so discouraging—and even embarrassing—writing about it again. But here I am, one year later, with my third rejection. And I have to say, this time it really hurt.

While I feel impostor syndrome creeping in (why should anybody hear what I have to say when I'm struggling to even start training as a clinical psychologist?), I haven't experienced much personal doubt. At this point in my life, I know my value; I have the experience and the skills. I know I'm ready to start training. I also know that the failure stems from the field's competitiveness—one university had over 1,500 applicants for just 55 spots. The numbers speak for themselves: this is a broken system.

But understanding that doesn't necessarily make it easier, especially when life is waiting and my dreams feel on hold until someone decides I'm good enough.

So, the first thing I asked myself was: why?

Why did this happen?

I spent a few days reflecting (I even organized a planned "think day") about what went wrong. Because truthfully, I believed this was my year. I was certain I would get a place.

Yet what I realized didn't come as a surprise: beneath that confidence, I had been doing too much. Spreading myself thin, I was juggling an overwhelming number of responsibilities and projects. The doctorate wasn't getting the time or focus it deserved, not because I didn't care, but because I had too many plates spinning. I realized that some things I was dedicating time and energy to weren't even important to me. I found myself in complete autopilot mode, overworking without even knowing what I was working on. "Less is more" is something I had heard countless times, but this was the first time I truly understood and believed it.

I started this year with a long list of life goals, ambitions, and plans. While I love my ambition, I had allowed it to steal my presence. I was so busy chasing the next thing that I lost sight of what actually matters, of what brings me joy.

But honestly, understanding what happened didn't really help. I still felt defeated. As I dug deeper, I uncovered the belief driving all these emotions: I have to achieve young. I grew up in Italy, where both culturally and within my family home, there was an emphasis on moving fast: graduate early, start working immediately—don't waste time! This mentality stuck with me, and even now, living in the UK where the pressure feels less intense, I still feel the urge to rush toward my goal.

What I realized is that I'm not particularly worried about qualifying as fast as possible. I'm already working with clients, and I genuinely like my job and love my life. However, qualifying as a clinical psychologist comes with financial stability that people at my stage in this field rarely get. For me, it was about achieving that financial security as quickly as possible. But are there other ways to do that?

A couple of weeks ago, I had a conversation with my friend Brooke, who works as a counselor, and she gave me a great idea. I've decided to enroll in a course to qualify as a counselor. Not only will the course allow me to qualify in a shorter time, but it will also provide therapeutic skills that aren't typically taught in the doctorate program, making me a better therapist overall. I also want to use this year to broaden my expertise in different fields while focusing on my passion projects and truly enjoying the present moment.

The doctorate will still be there next year. And I will apply again—with more focus, more presence, and a deeper sense of clarity. But in the meantime, I've decided to reclaim my time, my joy, and my energy.

I have revisited my goals. I have eliminated the noise and decided to focus on just a few core things that truly matter—things that will nourish my future and honor my present. I refuse to let the doctorate leave me stagnant in my career. I want to evolve, create something meaningful, and do it on my own terms.

Most importantly, I've committed to not delaying joy. I no longer want to treat joy as a reward that comes after success. I want joy now. I want to wake up every day feeling good and connected with my purpose. I'm not in a hurry anymore, as I'm trusting that what's meant for me will come to me.

I am not done. Not even close. But I am moving forward with less urgency, more intention, and more appreciation of what is already in my life.

Lessons learned:

• Sometimes failure is an invitation to slow down, reflect, and come home to yourself. Don't waste that opportunity.
• Doing too much can sometimes mean not giving enough attention and energy to what truly matters. Overcommitment can come from misalignment - focus on what matters, with more intention.
• Being busy doesn't mean being productive, especially when you're filling your time with activities that don't align with your values and mission. Choose intentionally what to give your energy to.
• There's no rush. If something makes you want to hurry, ask yourself what other paths might lead you there—without putting too much pressure on yourself.
• The biggest disservice you can do to yourself is saying "I can't be happy until..." Life is too short to wait for achievement to bring happiness. Create your joy now, in this moment, and don't let life slip by. Your future self will thank you.
• You are not behind—you are exactly where you need to be.