My biggest failures built the version of me I actually like the most 🔥

Hello beautiful soul

I am proud of my silver crown.

Especially the big "Morticia Addams" cluster of goldy grey I have at the front on the right side. Whilst my grey hair has been showing up slowly over the last decade, that front bit? That was all my last husband and the stress of that marriage. 

But it left me with what only can be described as a crown, and I am here for every single strand of it. 

I had a call recently with the brilliant Anessa Fike — and we were virtually high fiving each other as two silver fox sisters (podcast coming soon 👀). Both of us had clocked how many women comment on our grey hair out in the world. And what a beautiful thing that actually is. That women see it. That women celebrate it. That women get it.

No shade if you dye your hair my darling. We get to age however we want to. However we choose to show up in our own skin is the right answer.

But there is something quietly revolutionary about letting your silver crown do its thing. And perhaps more importantly, about wearing the evidence of what you have lived through instead of hiding it.

Because that is what it is, is it not?

Evidence.

Every silver strand is a story. A failure that taught you something. A repair that made you stronger. A version of yourself that had to fall apart before a better one could be built.

Which brings me to something Morgan Fowles said in our conversation for the Women Who Lead podcast — and I have not been able to stop thinking about it since.

She said that a lot of the experts agree: the best predictor of long term outcomes in a relationship is not how much a couple fights, or even how they fight.

It is how they repair.

And that concept translates straight across. Mind. Body. Leadership. All of it.

Recovery is where the actual growth comes from. And you do not get recovery without failure first.

Let that land.

Because here is the toxic bit — and I say this as someone who has lived it. We are so bad at conflict as humans. So bad at failure, full stop, that we avoid both entirely. We would rather keep the peace than have the honest conversation. We would rather smooth it over than sit in the discomfort of saying the thing.

And in doing so we miss the whole opportunity.

If you come across a relationship — romantic, professional, friendship — where there is never any conflict, I want to ask you honestly. Is everybody being real with each other? Because if you were truly being honest, there would be conflict. Not cruelty. Not chaos. But the kind of honest friction that — when repaired well, when repaired with care — becomes healthy conflict. The kind that builds something stronger on the other side.

My biggest failures built the version of me I actually like the most.

I mean that. The marriages that ended. The jobs that did not work out. The moments I got it wrong — in leadership, in friendship, in love. The version of Ruth that exists today was built on the rubble of all of those things. Not in spite of them. Because of them.

And the grey? The silver crown? That is just the visible proof.

Now here is the part I want to say directly. Because I think it matters most.

Women and how we show up with each other — that is where the change actually starts.

Being honest with each other. Being able to say — hey, that thing you said, it did not sit right with me. Or — can you help me understand that better? Or — I felt something shift between us and I do not want to leave it there.

I will not pretend it is easy. As hard as it is, I make myself go and have those conversations now. I sit down with the person it did not feel right with and I say the thing. Not always perfectly. Not without it being uncomfortable first.

And I will tell you something interesting. It is almost easier to do this in the workplace than it is with our girlfriends. Because with our girlfriends we know too much. We understand how women hurt. We understand what it costs us to be told we have done something wrong or said something that did not land well. We know the tenderness underneath each other's strength.

And because we know that — we sometimes protect each other right out of the truth.

But we have to do it. We have to be honest with each other. Because that honesty — that willingness to repair — is the foundation of everything we are trying to build together.

The silver crown. The conflict. The repair. The failure. The growth.

All of it is the evidence of a life fully lived.

Wear it. All of it.

And if you want to hear the full conversation with Morgan on the Women Who Lead podcast. Go go go!

Rooting for you always

Ruth x

Ps. You can also watch the conversation on YouTube here.