Get Back on the Horse Honey: Failure is only Feedback

Dr. Elisa Malangone

Some stories have a way of staying with us. They don't arrive with flashing lights announcing their importance, and they rarely feel life-changing in the moment. They simply settle somewhere deep within us, waiting patiently until life catches up to the lesson they came to teach. Today's story has lived with me for more than three decades, and only recently have I realized it wasn't just a memory from university—it became one of the cornerstones of how I coach, how I speak, and perhaps most importantly, how I've learned to return to myself.

Dr. Elisa Malangone

Welcome, gorgeous souls, to another episode of Ignite Your Insight. It's me, Elisa. I'm so grateful you've chosen to spend this time with me today. Whether you're listening from your morning walk, your car, your favorite chair with a warm cup of coffee, or wherever life has found you today, I want you to know how much I appreciate you inviting me into your world. I have a feeling this episode may meet you exactly where you are, because it's about something every one of us has experienced at one time or another—the moment we begin believing someone else's opinion of us more than our own inner knowing.

Dr. Elisa Malangone

So, come with me for a moment. Picture a twenty-one-year-old university student whose first major was Journalism, nervously walking into a Public Speaking class, completely unaware that one ordinary assignment was about to leave her with a single sentence she'd carry for the rest of her life. A sentence that, years later, would become part of my own coaching, my own teaching, and a gentle reminder I now share with others whenever life convinces them they've fallen too far to begin again.

Dr. Elisa Malangone

There are teachers who teach a subject, and then there are those rare educators who quietly change the trajectory of a person's life without realizing they're doing it. Professor Colleen Duffey was one of those extraordinary people. She was electric in the classroom—full of energy, humor, and a way of making every student feel as though they mattered. She didn't simply stand at the front of the room delivering lectures. She moved through the classroom with curiosity. She asked questions. She listened. She learned who we were beyond our student ID numbers, and she invested herself in helping each of us discover what we were capable of becoming.

Dr. Elisa Malangone

Looking back now, I realize she wasn't just teaching us the mechanics of public speaking. She was teaching us how to find our own voice. There's a profound difference between those two things. One is about delivering words. The other is about believing you deserve to be heard. At twenty-one years old, I couldn't have articulated that distinction. I simply knew I loved walking into her classroom because it felt like a place where people were encouraged to think differently, stretch creatively, and discover strengths they didn't yet know they possessed.

Dr. Elisa Malangone

One week, Professor Duffey introduced an assignment that would eventually become one of the most unforgettable experiences of my university years. Each of us was to prepare an anecdotal speech—a story from history, current events, literature, television, or our own lives that had shaped us in a meaningful way. We weren't simply retelling a story; we were being asked to reveal why it mattered. As classmates began choosing topics that were heartfelt, serious, and deeply personal, I found myself drawn in a completely different direction... and that decision would change everything.

Dr. Elisa Malangone

When it came time to choose my story, I didn't select a world leader, a historical event, or a deeply dramatic personal experience. I chose one of my favorite television shows from the 1950s—I Love Lucy. More specifically, the unforgettable episode where Ricky and Fred tell Lucy and Ethel that if they want to keep enjoying all the finer things in life—the fashionable clothes, the beauty appointments, the little luxuries—they're going to have to get jobs and earn the money themselves. Even now, just thinking about that episode makes me smile.

Dr. Elisa Malangone

So, Lucy and Ethel end up working at a chocolate factory, standing shoulder to shoulder at a conveyor belt with one very simple instruction: don't let a single piece of candy make it past your station unwrapped. It sounds easy enough... until that conveyor belt begins to move a little faster... and then faster still. Before long they're stuffing chocolates into their hats, hiding them in their pockets, tucking them into their clothes, and yes... eating them as quickly as they can, convinced no one will notice. It's brilliant physical comedy, and every time I watch it, I find myself laughing just as hard as I did the first time...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

At twenty-one years old, what fascinated me wasn't just that it was funny. It was that beneath all the laughter was a lesson about what happens when life suddenly starts moving faster than we feel prepared for. Looking back, I can also see something else. While many of my classmates were choosing stories they expected everyone else would admire, I was choosing a story that genuinely delighted me. It was unexpected. It was different. It reflected how I naturally looked at the world. I had no idea that sharing that choice before my speech would become the very thing that tested my confidence in ways I never saw coming...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

Like many university students, I made the mistake of talking about my speech before it was my turn to give it. Between classes, a few classmates asked what I had chosen, and when I told them it was the chocolate factory episode from I Love Lucy, the reactions weren't what I expected. One after another, I heard comments like, "You're really doing that?" ... "I don't think that's serious enough." ... "I wouldn't choose something like that." Looking back now, I don't believe they were trying to be cruel. I think they simply couldn't yet see what I saw. They were measuring my choice against convention, while I was choosing it because it had genuinely changed the way I thought...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

Funny how quickly confidence can begin negotiating with criticism. My story hadn't changed. The assignment hadn't changed. Even my preparation hadn't changed. What changed was the conversation I started having with myself. Their uncertainty quietly became my uncertainty. Their doubt began echoing louder than my own excitement, and before I knew it, I was no longer thinking about sharing a story I loved. I was wondering whether I'd made a terrible mistake...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

By the time Professor Duffey called my name, I wasn't simply walking toward the podium. I was walking toward every opinion I had allowed to rent space inside my mind. It's remarkable how quickly we can hand over our confidence when we start believing someone else must know us better than we know ourselves. In a matter of minutes, I had gone from feeling excited to share something uniquely me... to wondering if maybe they were right all along. And that quiet shift inside me would become far more challenging than standing in front of the class itself.

Dr. Elisa Malangone

I stepped behind the podium, looked out at the room, and suddenly everything changed. My classmates weren't simply classmates anymore—they had become an audience whose opinions I had unknowingly elevated above my own. I could feel the hives beginning to spread across my neck and chest. My breathing became shallow. My heart was racing so loudly I was certain everyone else could hear it. The words I had practiced so many times suddenly felt foreign, as though they belonged to someone else...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

I tried to keep going. I truly did. I lost my place. I repeated myself. I stumbled over words I knew perfectly well. The harder I tried to recover, the further away I seemed to drift from myself. Then the tears came. Not because I didn't know my speech, and not because I wasn't prepared. They came because, in that moment, I had become convinced that this one experience was somehow defining who I was. At twenty-one years old, I didn't have the language to explain what was happening. Today, I understand that my nervous system had completely taken over.I finally stopped speaking and looked over at Professor Duffey. Through tears, I quietly asked, "Is there any chance I could come back next week and try again?" It felt like the most reasonable request in the world. We had two class sessions set aside for these speeches, and I hoped another week would somehow erase what had just happened. Professor Duffey looked at me with a calmness I'll never forget. She didn't hesitate. She didn't rescue me. She simply said one word."No."

Dr. Elisa Malangone

For just a split second, I thought, "She isn't going to let me try again." Then she leaned forward with the kind of calm certainty that only someone who truly believes in another person can have. She said, "No. I will not allow you to leave here today believing you're a failure because of a poor start. If I send you home for a week, you'll spend the next seven days replaying this moment, convincing yourself you can't do it. Then you'll come back carrying even more fear than you're carrying right now. I'm not willing to let that happen."...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

She continued, "We're going to take our class break. You're not going to spend it talking with your classmates. I want you to find somewhere quiet where no one can influence your thinking. Have a snack. Get something to drink. Do your rag doll exercises. Breathe. Regulate your body. Settle your nervous system. Then you're going to come back into this classroom refreshed, replenished, and reset. I refuse to let the posturing of your peers define who you are." Looking back now, I realize Professor Duffey wasn't simply helping me prepare for another speech. She was teaching me how to interrupt fear before it had the chance to become part of my identity.

Dr. Elisa Malangone

So that's exactly what I did. I grabbed a soda and a snack from the vending machines, slipped into an empty classroom down the hall, closed the door, and for the first time that day, everything became quiet. I remember sitting there alone, letting the silence replace the noise that had been building inside my mind. I bent forward into my rag doll exercises, breathed deeply, and slowly felt my heartbeat begin to settle. At twenty-one years old, I thought I was simply trying to calm myself down. Today, I understand something much deeper. That afternoon, in a quiet university classroom with nothing more than a soda, a snack, and a few simple breathing exercises... I wasn't just calming myself. I was learning how to return to myself...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

When our break was over, I walked back toward the classroom. The hallway hadn't changed. The podium was still standing exactly where I'd left it. My classmates were still sitting in the very same seats. Nothing around me was different. The only thing that had changed was what was happening within me. I wasn't walking back to prove anyone wrong anymore. I was walking back because Professor Duffey had reminded me of something I had forgotten—that one difficult beginning did not have the authority to define the rest of my story...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

I stepped behind the podium once again, looked out across the room, took one slow, steady breath, and began. This time I wasn't trying to survive the speech. I was simply sharing a story I genuinely loved. I became Lucy. I became Ethel. I could see the conveyor belt speeding up in my mind, and I invited my classmates to see it with me. I wasn't just delivering information anymore; I was telling a story. I looked into the eyes of the very classmates whose opinions had shaken me earlier that day, not with defiance, but with presence. Little by little, I could feel myself reclaiming every minute that fear had tried to steal from me. The words flowed. The laughter came exactly where I'd hoped it would. The room leaned in, and for the first time that afternoon, I wasn't thinking about myself at all. I was thinking about serving the story.

Dr. Elisa Malangone

When I finished, there was a brief moment of silence. Then something happened that wasn't supposed to happen. Professor Duffey had a classroom rule that we did not applaud after each speech because every student deserved the same thoughtful respect without comparison. Yet before anyone seemed to realize what they were doing, applause broke out across the room. It wasn't about perfection. It wasn't about entertaining the class. It was something much deeper. They hadn't just witnessed a speech. They had witnessed someone refuse to let one painful beginning become the ending. And standing there, I realized I hadn't reclaimed my presentation that afternoon... I had reclaimed my voice...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

As the applause faded, Professor Duffey smiled in that unmistakable way that let you know she wasn't simply evaluating a speech—she was witnessing a breakthrough. She looked at me for a moment, almost as if she wanted to be certain I would remember what she was about to say. Then, with a warmth that has echoed through my life for more than three decades, she said, " Sometimes... you just have to get back on the horse, Honey."She let those words settle before adding something that, if I'm being truthful to my own journey, may have impacted me even more. She said, "It was my job to make sure that the way you saw yourself was accurate." Think about that for a moment. Not the way my classmates saw me. Not the way one difficult presentation had momentarily convinced me to see myself. The way that was accurate. Professor Duffey understood that one painful moment can distort our self-perception if we allow it. She wasn't simply protecting my grade that afternoon. She was protecting the relationship I would have with myself for years to come...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

There have been many remarkable teachers, mentors, and guides who have crossed my path over the years, and I carry deep gratitude for every one of them. Professor Colleen Duffey holds a very special place among them because she gave me something far greater than confidence at a podium. She gave me language that would continue to find me exactly when I needed it. Looking back now, I can see that afternoon wasn't really about public speaking at all. It was about resilience. It was about identity. It was about learning that sometimes the bravest thing we can do isn't getting it right the first time... it's having the courage to walk back toward the very place where we almost convinced ourselves we couldn't. That afternoon became part of the foundation of the presenter I am today. It's one of the reasons I can walk onto a stage with such peace and presence. Not because I've never been shaken, but because I know how to return to myself. Once you've discovered that, fear may visit... but it no longer gets to lead.

Dr. Elisa Malangone

Just last week, I found myself thinking about Professor Duffey again in the most unexpected way. A client—who has graciously given me permission to share this part of her journey, and whose name I've changed to protect her privacy—came to me after delivering a presentation that hadn't gone the way she'd hoped. We'll call her Jill. She was preparing to speak again, this time to an audience of people navigating the profound grief of losing someone they loved. Yet all she could see was the memory of the previous presentation. She wasn't preparing for her next opportunity; she was reliving her last disappointment...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

As Jill spoke, I wasn't just listening to her words. I was seeing a twenty-one-year-old version of myself standing behind that university podium, convinced one difficult experience had somehow rewritten the truth about who I was. Isn't it remarkable how easily our minds can do that? One moment becomes a conclusion. One stumble becomes an identity. One difficult beginning quietly whispers, "Maybe you're just not meant for this." I listened for a few moments longer, smiled, looked her gently in the eyes, and without planning it, I heard Professor Duffey's words come out of my own mouth: " Sometimes... you just have to get back on the horse, Honey."

Dr. Elisa Malangone

... The most beautiful part wasn't watching Jill suddenly become fearless. It was watching her remember herself. Her shoulders softened. Her breathing slowed. The expression on her face changed. It was as though someone had gently lifted the weight she'd been carrying and handed her back something much more truthful. In that moment, I realized Professor Duffey's lesson had never stopped teaching. It had simply found another classroom. First, it was entrusted to her. Then, she entrusted it to me. Now, through one simple sentence, it had been lovingly passed on once again. And perhaps... today... it's being passed on to you...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

As I've reflected on that day over the years, I've come to realize something I couldn't possibly have understood at twenty-one. Professor Duffey wasn't trying to save my speech. She was protecting my relationship with myself. She understood that if I walked out of that classroom believing I had failed, there was a very real chance I would begin introducing myself to the world through that one painful moment. One difficult beginning could have quietly become the story I told myself for years. She simply refused to let that happen...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

So today, I'd love to leave you with a few quiet questions to carry into the rest of your day. Where in your life have you stepped away from the podium? What conversation have you stopped having? What dream have you placed on a shelf? What relationship, opportunity, calling, business, creative project, or part of yourself has been waiting patiently because one difficult experience convinced you it wasn't meant for you? Perhaps life isn't asking you to become someone new. Perhaps it's simply inviting you to return to the person you were before fear borrowed your voice.

Dr. Elisa Malangone

If this story has found you at exactly the right time, I hope you'll do one small thing for yourself. Pause. Take a breath. Give yourself the same grace Professor Duffey gave a tearful twenty-one-year-old student all those years ago. Then, when you're ready, take one gentle step toward the very place you've been avoiding. Not because you're certain it will be perfect. Because you've remembered that one difficult moment was never meant to become your identity. Sometimes, all that's waiting on the other side of that step... is the life you've been hoping to live...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

Thank you for allowing me to share such a meaningful chapter of my life with you today. My hope is that somewhere within Professor Colleen Duffey's extraordinary gift to a twenty-one-year-old student, you've been able to recognize a piece of your own story as well. Because while this episode began in a university classroom many years ago, its message belongs to every one of us who has ever questioned ourselves after a difficult beginning...

Dr. Elisa Malangone

... If today's conversation resonated with you, I invite you to carry one thought with you this week. Be mindful of the story you're telling yourself about one difficult moment. Life has a beautiful way of offering us another opportunity—not to become someone different, but to remember who we've been all along. Sometimes the greatest act of courage isn't avoiding the fall. Sometimes it's choosing, with grace and compassion, to climb back into the saddle one more time....

Dr. Elisa Malangone

If you'd like to learn more about my work, explore upcoming events, listen to past episodes, or connect with me personally, I'd love to welcome you at ElisaInsight.com. Until our paths cross again, remember to be gentle with yourself, trust the wisdom that's already within you, and never underestimate what can change when you decide to return to yourself. Until next time... Much Love, Light and Insight.