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Beth Romero

Author, Persuasive Storyteller, Stoic Optimist

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Failure

Flex Your Resiliency Muscle

I’m obsessed with people who excel at bouncing. I mean, seriously, who doesn’t like a good comeback story? Please tell me you’ve seen at least one of the Rocky movies! But actually, even more inspirational than the films themselves is their writer and star, Sylvester Stallone. Much like the down-on-his-luck character, Stallone was struggling, broke, and nearly homeless. He had to sell his beloved dog, Butkus, for fifty bucks because he couldn’t even afford to feed him. But instead of giving up, he used this rock-bottom moment as a springboard to create his own possibility. He wrote a script about a down-and-out fighter because he could do that particular role. He essentially wrote it for himself.

When Stallone ran Rocky by some studios that expressed interest, it was with one caveat: He wanted to star in the film. The studios loved the script but wanted a more prominent name on the marquee. But Stallone, though broke, refused. He stood by his convictions. According to Hollywood lore, he was offered $300,000 for the script and still refused. And finally, the studio United Artists agreed to let him be the star, and they paid him for the script.

The rest is history. In addition to winning the Oscar for best picture, Rocky was the highest-grossing film of 1976. Stallone was able to buy Butkus back (for much, much more), and he put his beloved canine in the first two movies.

Stallone’s ability to bounce under extraordinarily trying circumstances is incredible. And he’s not the only famous person to have done something like this. Daniel Craig, Halle Berry, Tiffany Haddish, Jim Carey, Steve Harvey, David Letterman, Jewel, and Steve Jobs—Did you know these incredibly successful people were homeless at some point as well? I could go on and on, but you get the point. Being knocked down doesn’t define you.

It’s our bounce that defines us.

The good news is that resilience can be learned, and you can optimize your natural resiliency reserves. How? Start flexing that resiliency muscle. Instead of being devastated by setbacks, view them as temporary; think of them as a setup for a comeback. Be like Nelson Mandela, who so masterfully stated, “I never lose, I either win or I learn.” Imagine if everyone had that mindset. When you’re able to look at everything, good or bad, as a growth opportunity, it’s life-changing.

Learning from mistakes doesn’t require firsthand experience. You can learn from others’ life lessons too! I love this for my daughters; I’m not looking to be anyone’s martyr, but if my girls can glean insight and understanding from my past stumbles, then I’m here for it.

Smith College, a prestigious all-women’s college, launched a program entitled “Failing Well” in 2016 to destigmatize failure and teach resiliency to its students. Failing is a part of learning and not an anathema to it. One must prepare to fail, to learn. The most successful CEOs are well-aware of this fact. Netflix, Amazon, and Coca-Cola encourage failure because they’re constantly pushing the envelope of creativity and innovation and know you can’t have one without the other. Intuit, an accounting software company, gives awards and parties for failure. “At Intuit we celebrate failure,” explains cofounder Scott Cook, “because every failure teaches something important that can be the seed for the next great idea.”

Resilient people don’t view themselves as victims but rather as survivors of trying times. This is a key character trait of resilient people—not playing the victim card. Studies have found that resilient people are six times more likely to have an internal locus of control. Meaning, they believe their actions and choices can help influence outcomes instead of believing they’re powerless. When you think you’re powerless, you really abdicate taking responsibility for the situation.

You’re not a victim of your circumstances. You’re a product of your decisions. Really look at your perspective in every situation. Is it empowering or disempowering? I don’t think the wildly popular reality series Survivor would have celebrated forty seasons if it was called Victims. Nobody wants to see that shit, let alone be it!

Positive self-talk is just one of the ways to help build and encourage a resilient mindset. According to the Bounce Back Project—a collaborative of physicians, nurses, hospital leaders, and staff that promotes “health through happiness”—there are five pillars of resilience: self-awareness, mindfulness, self-care, positive relationships, and purpose. According to this movement, we become more resilient when we strengthen these pillars.

I encourage you to look at your pillars. If they seem shaky, it’s time to fortify. Strengthen your pillars and turn your emotional house of cards into a fortress of resiliency. As Sheryl Sandberg, American business executive, billionaire, and philanthropist, told the graduating class of UC Berkeley, “You are not born with a fixed amount of resilience. Like a muscle, you can build it up, draw on it when you need it. In that process, you will figure out who you really are—and you just might become the very best version of yourself.

In other words, bounce your way to a better you!

Our greatest glory is not in never falling but in rising every time we fall.

– Confucius

When Failure is Not an Option

I’ve always loved reading biographical stories of courage and bravery. Such great sources of inspiration, especially when in need of a motivational booyah. I’ve even used the phrase “burn the ships” as my can-do mantra when faced with obstacles—borrowed from Alexander the Great, undefeated in battle, considered one of the greatest conquerors of his time. His fabled strategy for winning one of his greatest battles was to do just that: burn down the ships. Literally. Upon reaching the impending battle’s shores, he ordered all their ships to be burnt down. Retreat and failure were simply not an option. He and his soldiers had to be 100 percent committed and fight like their lives depended on it, because they did. Talk about major cojones. I have long aspired to be like him.

Imagine if we took that scorched-earth, no-turning-back, your-life-depends-on-it approach to every obstacle we encountered with 100 percent commitment, 100 percent of the time. Never half-assing it. Oh, what a wonderful world it would be. I have embraced this philosophy throughout my life—sometimes not always by choice, to be honest.

In my early thirties (think idealistic ingenue with prechild-bearing hips), I was part of a company startup in an industry riddled with not just five hundred–pound gorillas but good ole boy five hundred–pound gorillas. This, of course, was many years before any type of #MeToo empowerment or actual repercussions for discriminating, bullying, or just plain shitty behavior in the workplace. The stories I could tell; many in that network would be unemployable by today’s standards and professional guardrails.

These men didn’t take too kindly to a li’l gal, too big for her britches, trying to play in their schoolyard. In those early salad days, we were frugal by necessity. Ran lean and mean. For one of our first national trade shows, we had an itty-bitty booth simply displaying our products on clothed tables. No fanfare or chichi effects. Surrounded—swallowed really—by the huge trade show exhibits of the five hundred–pound gorillas replete with stages, seating, and sound systems. It was quintessential David and Goliath, and the only slingshot I had in my possession was my voice.

So, risking a carnival barker persona, I stood on an egg crate without microphone or fanfare and began a motivational rah-rah that rivaled Oprah Winfrey on the famous day she gave away 276 Pontiacs to her studio audience—“You get a car! You get a car!” In this case, it was our product. Who doesn’t love a freebie? We quickly became a gathering hotspot, and the crowd’s excited chants echoed throughout the trade show floor.

I could only take stage once an hour, as I had to nurse cough drops and spray Chloraseptic down my throat in the interim to soothe my horribly abused vocal cords. I was vying against the loud music blaring from the neighboring sound systems. But I wasn’t about to let a little hoarseness and discomfort stop me.

The crowds grew larger and larger in anticipation of my giveaways—until, a few hours in, I was approached by the trade show general manager. I needed to stop my egg crate jubilees because all the Magillas around me were complaining. And they did pay significantly more for the space, blah, blah, blah. You understand, Beth, right? Great, thanks so much. In other words, thanks for playing, but it’s time to cash out and let the big boys play.

Like clockwork, a very large crowd gathered at the top of the hour. Joining them now was the trade show GM and his staff. I guess to make sure I behaved. I didn’t know what to do as I took to my crate. My palms sweating and subdued in tone, I informed the crowd of the reprimand by management. I explained how we were upsetting the competition with our boisterous enthusiasm and had to cease and desist from our hour of power get-togethers. The crowd booed their outrage and dissent. I told them that I could either go gently into the night, not make any waves and be a good girl, or I could go out in a ball of fire, consequences be damned.

I paused, briefly looked down, and then fiercely raised my arms in a victory salute and shouted, “I choose fire!” Clearly, I lean toward the dramatic, but it was an inspired Eva Perón–like moment. As you can imagine, the crowd went bat-shit crazy, the rallying cries of which could be heard throughout the convention center. It. Was. Awesome.

Whether it was our indefatigable spirit, commitment to product quality, or both, that company took off. Fast-forward seven years, and I was now Chief Brand Management Officer, not only for our little engine that could—and did—but also for the two largest industry gorillas that had formerly been our competition.

My point? I had a history of burning the ships. In fact, I could credit most of my professional and personal triumphs to that mindset. So, what the hell had happened to me? Yes, 2020 had been ripe with heartbreak, but how had I let myself become its roadkill? This wasn’t a hill I was willing to die on. I couldn’t recognize the girl in the mirror, but she was still in there. Of that much, I was sure. It was time to get back on my feet. It was time to live again.

It was time to once again choose fire.

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Beth Romero

Copyright © 2026 Beth Romero. All rights reserved.

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