It circled me like an annoying mental fly, always just out of reach. My husband was speaking, but his words dissolved into background noise. All my energy went toward appearing normal while internally running from this thought.

Browsing the airport duty free, I couldn’t explain what was happening. I only knew my stomach was churning, I felt in danger of something, I wanted  to disappear, and an urgent voice in my head insisted, “You have to do something to fix it”—though I didn’t even know what it was.

Couple of hours passed. The effort of mental escape left me exhausted. So I decided to stop running. I looked directly at the shame that had been chasing me and said out loud in my mind: “I’m a failure.” I repeated it a few times. And, oddly, the fear lost some of its bite and a part of me immediately came in with all the proof that I wasn’t a failure at all. The idea of me being a failure suddenly seemed genuinely kinda ridiculous.

Shame, I’ve learned, thrives in the shadows. In the open, under inspection, it becomes smaller, more ordinary.

Later, when I unpacked the day in my mind, I could see exactly what had triggered the spiral: my own high expectations, and the terror of being seen as incompetent when I inevitably didn’t meet them.

Where That Sense of Failure Comes From

The “I’m a failure” loop often has less to do with facts and more to do with deeply ingrained beliefs:

• Perfectionism: Equating worth with performance or achievement.
• Fear of judgment: Believing that others will reject, abandon, make fun of you for making mistakes.
• Over-identification with outcomes: Treating one event or result as a verdict on your entire self.

In my case, it wasn’t that I had failed at something that day—it was that my mind was running an old script: If you’re not performing perfectly, if your efforts don’t produce immediate results, you’re failing as a person. And once others see my failures, I will be ashamed and alone.

How to Deal With It in the Moment

When your brain launches into “I’m a failure” mode, logic alone often won’t pull you out. You need to work with both the emotional and physical side of the reaction.

1. Stop the chase.
   Running from the thought and the feeling can make both stronger. Instead, lable the thought as just this “the thoughts,” not a fact. Pause. Observe the emotions and sensation this thought brings up. Focus on what emerges physically in the moment, instead of engaging with the thoughts.
2. Ground in your body.
   Notice your feet on the floor, the texture of a surface under your hands, eat a sour candy, take deep breaths, stretch, toss a ball, hold a piece of ice, sing, jump up and down (if the situation allows). This brings you back to your body and interrupts the panic loop.
3. Name the emotion.
   “Shame,” “fear,” “embarrassment”—labeling the feeling can help your brain shift from reacting to observing.
4. Question the narrative—gently.
   Once you’re calmer, ask: “Is this a fact, or a fear?” Often, it’s the latter.
5. Be your own savior.
   Witness the part of you who is so terrified of failing. How old is this part? When was the first time she felt like a failure. What is she afraid would happen if she doesn’t frantically push you to “fix” the perceived failure. Validate her, hold her, tell her she is not alone now.

Long-Term Shifts to Reduce the Spiral

• Adjust expectations: Aim for realistic goals instead of perfection.
• Separate self-worth from results: A mistake is something you did, not something you are.
• Share the feeling: Talking about it with someone you trust can strip shame of its secrecy.
• Practice failure in small ways: Let yourself make minor mistakes without overcorrecting, to retrain your nervous system.

That day in Buffalo didn’t end with some triumphant moment of clarity. It ended with me, tired and still a bit raw, walking to my gate. But the next time I felt that mental fly buzzing, I recognized it sooner. And now I know: the only way out isn’t to run—it’s to stop, turn around, and look it in the eye.