🫣😬Play to Fail: Get Uncomfortable😁🤩

There’s something wild — even sacred — about dreaming so big it makes your palms sweat and your stomach flip. The kind of dream that feels so enormous, so beautifully outlandish, that your inner critic immediately pipes up with that tired old line: “Who do you think you are?”

But I’ve come to believe that those are the dreams worth chasing. Not the ones that feel safe or predictable, but the ones that stretch us. The ones that wake us up. The ones that demand we become more of who we really are — and less of who we’ve pretended to be in order to feel safe.

That’s why, today, I did something deeply uncomfortable for me: I went Live on Instagram.

Now, for some people, this might not sound like a big deal. But for me, it felt like standing naked in the town square. I didn’t go Live because I love being on camera. I didn’t go Live because I had perfectly rehearsed words or a well-lit backdrop or some tidy little message tied up in a bow. I went Live because I had to. Because something inside me wouldn’t let me stay quiet.

I called the conversation Play to Fail — and I want to unpack what that really means.

We live in a culture obsessed with winning. Play to win. Stay in control. Be the best. And while there’s nothing wrong with excellence, I’ve noticed that “playing to win” can become a disguise for playing it safe. We shrink our dreams down to what we know we can achieve. We measure our goals against what’s “realistic.” We don’t stretch — we strategize. And slowly, silently, we stop dreaming altogether.

But what if we flipped the whole game?

What if we gave ourselves permission to play to fail?

That phrase might sound counterintuitive at first. Isn’t failure what we’re supposed to avoid? But here’s the truth: when we play big enough to risk failure, we start living from our edge. We move from a place of expansion, not contraction. We dare to enter uncharted territory. And that’s where the magic lives.

Because when we risk failure, we’re also risking transformation.

Let me be clear: this isn’t about being reckless. This isn’t about throwing ourselves off cliffs without parachutes. It’s not about ego or grand gestures. It’s about being real. Real enough to say, “I don’t know how this will turn out — but I’m going to show up anyway.”

That kind of honesty? That kind of courage? It’s electric. And contagious.

It signals to the world — and more importantly, to ourselves — that we’re willing to grow.

There’s a version of you you haven’t met yet. A version that only reveals herself when you step beyond the known. Beyond the rules. Beyond the scripts you’ve memorized to keep yourself safe. And yes, it might feel terrifying at first. But it’s also exhilarating. Because on the other side of that stretch is freedom. And truth. And alignment.

I’ve learned this the hard way. I’ve had to get intimate with failure. I’ve had to let go of needing everything to be perfect before I begin. Because if I waited until the lighting was right or the words were flawless or the outcome was guaranteed — I’d never do a damn thing.

And I don’t want to live that way. I don’t want to reach the end of my life with a perfectly curated feed but an unlived heart.

Here’s something no one tells you about dreaming:

To dream something into reality, you have to be willing to live in the unknown.

You have to move without a clear map.

You have to take steps before you see the whole staircase.

You have to speak your dream aloud before it makes sense to anyone else — even you.

Dreams don’t arrive fully formed. They show up as flickers. Whispers. Nudges. They come as visions that tug at your soul and don’t let go. And most of the time, they show up in deeply inconvenient ways — like when you’re tired, afraid, or unsure. Like pressing “Go Live” when your voice is shaking and your hands are clammy.

But that’s the moment when the dream becomes real.

Not when it’s launched. Not when it’s polished. But when it’s claimed.

When you say, “This matters. Even if I mess it up. Even if I’m not ready. Even if I look foolish. It matters.”

That’s the moment of initiation. That’s where the alchemy begins.

So if you’re reading this and there’s a vision stirring inside you — one that feels too big, too bold, too impossible — I want you to know this:

You’re not crazy.

You’re being called.

You’re being invited into a life that’s bigger than your fears, deeper than your doubts, and more meaningful than any algorithm could measure.

But you’ve got to be willing to play to fail.

You’ve got to be willing to fall flat on your face and still keep going. Because here’s the secret: failure is not the opposite of success — it’s the path to it.

Every person you admire, every dream that inspires you, was born through discomfort, doubt, and imperfect action.

You don’t need more confidence.

You need more commitment.

Commitment to the dream.

Commitment to showing up messy.

Commitment to letting yourself be seen in the middle — not just at the finish line.

And if you’ve been holding onto a dream quietly, here’s your permission slip to speak it. To step toward it. To share it before you feel ready.

Here’s your reminder that being brave isn’t about having no fear. It’s about choosing your dream despite the fear.

So go ahead — stretch.

Go Live.

Start the project.

Write the book.

Host the retreat.

Say yes to the thing that makes no logical sense but makes your heart pound with knowing.

Let yourself get uncomfortable.

Let yourself be seen.

Let yourself fail — and rise again.

Because when you play to fail, you play full out.

And when you play full out — your dream has no choice but to rise up and meet you halfway.