10b. What Causes Fear of Failure? Childhood Roots Explained

Let’s Get Emotional With the Fear of Failure Part Two:

The Roots That Make It Grow

Hello you! Welcome back to part two of all things fear of failure. This time, we’re looking at what causes fear of failure. How our stories are formed in childhood, how school may quietly reinforce them and why those early beliefs can still feel true today.

So, whether you’ve read part one already, or you’ve arrived here through a curious search, you don’t need any prior context to begin. This post is an invitation to gently look beneath the surface, at a pace that feels right for you 😊

Last time, we explored the sneaky ways this fear shows up in the everyday corners of our lives. And today is where we’ll dig a little deeper – right down to the roots – to see where our fear of failing truly starts.

So, as I always like to say – get comfy, get settled, grab a warm drink and something to cuddle, as we take a grounding breath and say hello (again) to the idea of making mistakes.

But before we begin and in the spirit of avoiding a mistake or two myself, let’s cover a little housekeeping first.

And for those who like to see what they’re getting themselves into ahead of time, here’s a quick summary of today’s post:

Now, if you’re in a hurry and would like to just dive right in 🌿 → click here to jump to – what causes fear of failure?

But if you’re someone who loves a bit of structure for comfort (this would be me to so no judgement here) I’ve shared the series roadmap, this post’s contents and a reflection on last weeks post below.

Fear of Failure Series Roadmap

A Quick Peek at What’s Ahead:

🪞 Reflecting Back: Fear of Failure Part One:

How Our Beliefs Form and What They Teach Us About Fear of Failure

I said it in the last post, and I’ll say it again, it isn’t the fear of failure that scares me most.

It’s the thought of it.

The 4 a.m. thought loops. The “what if I said the wrong thing?” replay. That inner critic who keeps a catalogue of every mistake I’ve ever made, yet somehow forgets my successes.

🗒️ Side note: If you’re torn between whether it’s fear or anxiety that’s showing up, I’ve explored it here:

🌿 → difference between fear and anxiety.

And those thoughts don’t appear overnight (pun intended). They’re trying to help – protecting, covering, soothing – doing their best to keep us safe from something much deeper.

In part one, I shared how it’s the meaning we attach to failure that hurts, the risks we imagine, the humiliation we fear and the stories we tell ourselves.

And those stories? They’re simply another way of describing our beliefs.

Yet we often throw words like beliefs around as if saying the word is enough. But words alone don’t give us the space to stop and really look at what our stories are made of.

From my own experience, lasting change hasn’t come from naming a concept, it’s come from understanding what it truly means to me, and whether it’s still true for me now.

So maybe it’s worth pausing for a moment to ask ourselves:

What is a Belief?

Your own personal storybook of the world.

Our beliefs are one of the ways our minds make sense of things. They’re the filters we use as we move through life, helping us interpret who we are, where we are, and how we relate to the people and situations around us.

And to make that a little more tangible (because I can’t resist a good analogy), humour me for a moment as I turn to the gift of colour.

Go with it – hopefully it will make sense to us both.

I’ve Painted My Kitchen Blue

(Well, I haven’t, but for the sake of the analogy, let’s pretend I have. Don’t let the truth get in the way of a good point!)

Blue feels like the perfect choice for me. Why?

Because my childhood bedroom was painted the same shade. Over time, my mind linked that colour with the feelings I experienced in that space – safety, love and warmth.

That association probably wasn’t conscious, but automatic. My mind simply flicked through its storybook of beliefs and landed on blue. The story it found reads: blue is safe, loving and calming.

So now, each time I walk into my newly painted kitchen, I feel those same feelings. My kitchen becomes a familiar, comforting place.

A Very Different Reaction

Then my friend pops round for tea – perfect timing, because I can finally show off my handiwork (which, frankly, is the closest I’ll ever get to Picasso-level art).

But her reaction isn’t what I expected. She doesn’t share my enthusiasm. Instead, her body tenses, and I get the sense something isn’t quite right.

Why? Because her childhood classroom was also painted blue and it was in that space she was often bullied, unsafe and alone. Over time, her mind wrote a very different story: blue means sadness, stress, and rejection.

So when she stands in my kitchen, she isn’t reacting to my paintwork at all, she’s reacting to the meaning her mind attached to blue years ago.

Same Situation, Two Different Stories

While we may be standing in the same space, looking at the same colour, our experiences can feel worlds apart.

Because our beliefs are.

I’ll admit, my analogy may be a little exaggerated – but it perfectly illustrates how powerful our beliefs are in shaping everyday experience. It also shows how the subconscious quietly reads the pages of our storybook in the background, colouring how we see and interact with the world.

Often without us even realising.

And our beliefs don’t just shape our inner world – they also influence how we relate to others. Very often, our reactions are at least partly guided by the stories we hold. Personally, I find that awareness liberating; it helps calm my tendency to personalise other people’s reactions.

Because in reality, it wasn’t my painting skills my friend was rejecting or judging. She was simply experiencing the colour blue through a different lens. It wasn’t about me and my ego can calm down.

When we can see situations from both sides, we create space for empathy, not only for our own stories, but for others too.

Now, I could talk about this all day, but I’ll save the deeper dive for another post. Because every emotional root we’ve explored so far connects back, at least in part, to the beliefs we hold.

But for now, we’ve seen what a belief is – so naturally, the next question is:

How Childhood Experiences Create Fear of Failure

Our beliefs don’t form overnight.

Psychologists suggest that many of our core stories take shape in early childhood – often before the age of eight. At that stage, we don’t yet have the maturity to question things; our main priority is simply to feel safe.

So our beliefs begin as responses to early experiences, learning what keeps us secure and what doesn’t. By the time we reach adulthood, much of the script is already written, and later experiences tend to confirm what was planted early on.

But here’s the good news: our beliefs aren’t set in stone. If anything, I like to think of them as written in thick, slightly stubborn pencil rather than ink. With a little awareness and practice, we can erase and rewrite the parts that no longer serve us.

And when we shift our beliefs, we also begin to reshape the fears that grow from them, because it’s the beliefs we hold that so often create the emotional fears we face.

Which brings me neatly back to the point of the post: fear of failure.

What Causes Fear of Failure in Childhood?

Much like our beliefs – our fear of failure doesn’t appear out of thin air.

It begins in our earliest days, in those raw, formative moments when our mistakes first met the world. Whether they were received with love, shame, or silence, each response taught us something about what failure means.

From there, our nervous system began quietly shaping beliefs around safety, acceptance, and worth.

As we moved into school and beyond, those beliefs grew protective layers, the same ones we explored in part one.

And by adulthood, these defences can feel like part of our personality, when in truth, they’re patterns we once adopted to protect ourselves from the pain of getting it wrong.

A Reassuring Note For Parents

Now, before we dive into childhood roots, I want to pause with a little reassurance for any parents reading.

Parenting is hard – one of the hardest jobs there is – and nothing about it is ever perfect. The reflections I share here aren’t designed to spark fear or judgement, but to shed light on how early experiences shape the way we see mistakes.

From what I’ve seen, it’s not about the occasional stressed reaction or less-than-ideal response – we’re all human. What matters most is the consistency and severity of patterns over time. So if you’re thinking back to one or two difficult moments, please take a breath and remember: those don’t define you, or your child.

And for those of us reading from the other side – as the children who grew up – it’s easy to look back and feel frustrated with our parents.

To see the gaps, the mistakes and think, “why didn’t they do better?” But as we open ourselves to failure in our own adult lives, it feels only fair to extend some of that same compassion and forgiveness to them too.

Of course, there are painful exceptions – some parents are abusive, and that truth deserves to be named. Abuse leaves its own scars, and compassion doesn’t mean excusing it. But for the majority, these patterns stem from being imperfectly human in an impossibly complex role.

Anyway, disclaimer done – it’s time for me to get to the point.

Conditional Approval: When Love Feels Linked to Success

“Your so good…but only when you get it right”

All humans make mistakes and children are no exception.

Think back to those earliest years: so much of childhood is trial and error. At one time, even walking wasn’t instinctive – it was wobbles, falls, and countless attempts before it became effortless.

The same goes for learning to talk, eat, or try anything new. It all takes practice, patience, and plenty of mistakes along the way.

And it’s in those moments of risk-taking that children first glimpse how mistakes are received. Innately observant, they look to the adults around them and begin learning from their responses.

Over time, and with repeated reaction, children begin to form patterns. If mistakes are met with patience and encouragement, they learn that failure is part of growth and it’s safe to try again.

But if mistakes are consistently met with criticism, withdrawal, or negativity, they learn to associate errors with disapproval and danger.

Children are naturally wired to seek approval – it’s how they feel safe with their caregivers. But when that approval comes with harsh conditions, repeated over time, a story can quietly take root:

“I’m only accepted when I get it right.”

Unpredictable Reactions: How Fear of Failure Takes Root

“Sometimes it’s fine, sometimes it’s not – you just never know.”

Inconsistent reactions to mistakes can be confusing for children.

Of course, all parents have distracted moments, and a little inconsistency is part of being human. But when reactions are unpredictable more often than not, children can grow unsure of what to expect when things go wrong.

So, when they make a mistake and there’s a mixed bag of responses – sometimes they receive support, yet other times they are judged – it can lead to doubt.

Uncertainty rarely feels safe. Even as adults, many of us avoid it – so it’s only natural that children try to do the same.

To protect them, the mind begins to tell them:

“I never quite know what will happen if I fail, so it’s safer not to risk it.”

Shame & Embarrassment: The Emotional Side of Fear of Failure

“You’ll never guess what she did!”

As children grow and start to understand social dynamics, they see that approval doesn’t just come from caregivers, it also comes from the wider family, community and society.

So when mistakes are met with open criticism or ridicule in front of others – whether in the moment or retold later – failure becomes linked with shame.

Because all humans are wired to seek belonging, shame and humiliation feel especially threatening. Over time, the mind steps in to protect us by shaping a script like:

“Failure equals shame – so it’s safer to avoid it.”

Comparison & Early Fear of Failure

“Why can’t you be more like…?”

All humans are unique, and children are no different.

It’s easy to see why adults point to the “good ones” as examples – it seems like a way to guide behaviour. But when this is done consistently, especially in response to mistakes, children may begin to internalise the idea that they need to be the same as, or better than others to feel safe and accepted.

So the mind creates a story to protect them:

“If I make a mistake, I’m not the best – which means I’m not good enough.”

Overprotective Parenting and the Fear of Failure

“Let me do it for you.”

Naturally, adults want to protect children. But as with most things, there can be too much of a good thing.

When children are wrapped a little too tightly in protective parenting, they miss out on valuable opportunities to make mistakes – the very mistakes that help them grow and learn how to cope when things do go wrong.

However well-intentioned, overprotection can quietly send a different message and without space to try, fail, and adapt, children may begin to internalise the idea that:

“I can’t handle failure.”

Family Rules & Storybooks: How Fear of Failure is Passed Down

“In this family we don’t fail!”

Families are like ecosystems – carrying their own stories, traditions, and styles, often handed down from generation to generation. Sometimes this is done consciously, but more often it’s like a script on repeat.

It can feel like a hand-me-down: not something you can name or wear, but something you sense, looming in the background.

Families pass along many stories – reminders of past mistakes or warnings about repeating them, or proud tales of resilience that set the bar high. These narratives shape what feels acceptable and what doesn’t.

And because family is our first source of safety, protection, and belonging, we rarely want to go against the status quo. So if failure isn’t allowed at the family table, we may quietly grow into the narrative of:

“If I fail, I’ll let my family down.”

How School Reinforces Fear of Failure in Childhood

So much of our early learning happens in subtle, everyday ways. Each response leaves a quiet impact, teaching us what mistakes mean and whether failure feels safe or dangerous.

And by the time we step into school, many of these ideas have already begun to take shape.

Which means our storybook is partly written, so it’s within the education system that those early stories often start to feel like truths.

And it’s here, where those behaviours we explored in Part One – procrastination, perfectionism, comparison – begin to offer us comfort in the face of fear. As a way to avoid the pain failure may bring.

Of course, not every child will experience this in the same way. Human stories are never identical. But these patterns help us see how early emotional experiences can begin to shape our sense of safety – and why those stories can feel so true later in life.

Procrastination: How Fear of Failure Starts in School

Where knowledge meets performance.

School is the place where our mistakes leave the privacy of our home and step into the public eye.

It’s often the first environment where failure is seen in its most literal sense: graded, listed, and recorded. Marks on paper, numbers on reports, certificates that follow us, or at the very least – memories that linger.

So, it’s no surprise that anxiety and stress begin to take root here. And sadly, because of how the system is structured, that pressure can begin as early as primary school (ages 4–10).

Over time, this constant evaluation quietly confirms our stories. The classroom becomes the first stage where self-worth and performance start to intertwine.

And as the mind does so well, it adapts. It shapes our stories around us to keep us safe as a way to protect.

Which brings us to our familiar friend – procrastination – and how this particular mask presents itself in the little ones around us.

The Younger Souls (4-10years)

“I can’t do this!”

In younger children, avoidance is often expressed through behaviour and emotion.

Sometimes they’ll flat-out refuse to try something new, becoming angry or frustrated when faced with a task that feels too difficult. Because their emotional maturity is still developing, they often “act out”, not from rudeness, but from fear they don’t yet have the words for.

To adults, this might look like defiance. But in the child’s world, it’s protection.

We might see them throwing pencils, pushing work away, or resting their head on the desk. Other times, the opposite shows up – they withdraw, fall silent, or refuse to engage.

They may also become clingy, seeking reassurance from teachers or caregivers to soothe the uncertainty of the outcome.

And just as adults often feel anxiety in the body, children do too. Their fear can show up as tummy aches, headaches, or a general sense of feeling unwell. They can’t yet make the connection between the mind and body and truthfully, many adults can’t either.

Ultimately, the stories of conditional approval and inconsistent reactions from the earlier days:

“I’m only accepted when I get it right.”

Quietly shapes the belief that:

“If avoid making a mistake in the first place, I’ll be accepted and safe.”

The Older Ones (10+)

“The dog ate my homework, miss!”

As children grow, their avoidance starts to move inward. They’ve learned that “acting out” is frowned upon, so the same emotions – frustration, sadness, and fear – look for quieter ways to express themselves.

Instead of throwing pencils or refusing to try, they begin to manage their fear. They might delay homework, leave things until the last minute, or “forget” to complete it altogether – sometimes relying on the classic excuses we’ve all come to recognise (and even laugh about, sadly).

But beneath the humour sits worry. It’s not laziness or carelessness; it’s protection. Because if they don’t try – or if they run out of time – then they can’t fully fail.

The fear of what happens if I do it and it’s not good enough? Quietly outweighs the discomfort of leaving things until the last minute.

And for some, the pressure extends beyond the classroom. They may begin to avoid school altogether. School refusal can have many roots, but fear of not meeting expectations is often one of them.

So, as we know – at its heart – avoidance becomes a way to stay safe.

(I’ve linked to the first post in my procrastination deep dive here in case you need a further read 🌿 → procrastination deep dive)

So the stories from home that echo in the background:

“I can’t handle failure.“

“I never quite know what will happen if I fail, so it’s safer not to risk it.”

Begin to write the belief that:

“If I don’t try, I can’t fail and if I can’t fail, I can stay safe.”

So while procrastination protects us from the pain of failure, our next disguise provides us with the ‘perfect’ shield from the shame of it.

Perfectionism – A Common Shield for Fear of Failure

“If it’s not perfect, it’s not worth doing!”

As our mistakes move into the classroom, so too does the size of our audience. What was once an error in private is now a wobble in public.

Classrooms are often filled with thirty or more students – each one a potential witness to our missteps. Add to that the teachers, whose styles vary but who represent our first real taste of authority and the pressure quietly builds.

Whether it’s giving an incorrect answer in front of the class, sitting through parents’ evening, or not being chosen for the netball team – there’s now ample room for error and for everyone to see it.

This is when perfectionistic tendencies begin to form. Because if we can just get everything right – perfectly polished and complete – there’s no chance of public humiliation.

So, we work harder. Check more. Overthink.

And perhaps the saddest part is? Being flawless is often rewarded.

For the younger ones, it’s gold stars, “well done” stickers, and student of the week. For the older ones, it’s higher grades, top sets, and a relentless work ethic that’s praised as ‘hard working’.

Either way it creates a feedback loop, one that tends to mirror beyond school and into other areas of life.

(I’ve gone into the weeds on this in my perfectionism posts, which I’ve linked here: 🌿 → not-so-perfect defence).

So, perfectionism begins to grow, masked as high standards or pride in one’s work. But underneath, it’s still a child’s mind, trying to follow the family rulebook and avoid that moment of public discomfort.

It’s the family script that silently whispers:

“If I fail, I’ll let my family down.”

“If I make a mistake, I’m not the best – which means I’m not good enough.”

Which slowly forms the belief:

“If I’m perfect, I’ll be safe.”

And if there’s one thing that always walks hand in hand with perfectionism – well it’s the next mask in the failure series.

Comparison & Belonging: Social Roots of Fear of Failure

“If they like it, I should too.”

By the time we reach the playground, comparison likes to play too. It’s no longer just about getting things right – it’s about being the right fit.

Gone are the days of only being compared to your sibling, next-door neighbour, or that distant cousin who always seemed to get everything right. Oh no – there’s now a whole classroom (and later, a whole school) to observe, measure against, and look up to.

So being like others begins to feel like the easiest way to be accepted by them.

Thinking back, I often wonder if I really was an “emo” girl at heart during my high school years. Honestly, I couldn’t quite pull off the side fringe, pink streaks, and heavy eyeliner that the trend demanded – it just wasn’t me. Still, I listened to Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance during the week, doing my best to blend in…while saving my books and Disney films for the weekends (don’t tell anyone 🫣).

When Academic Failure Meets Social Failure

Because even as adults, going against the crowd can feel daunting – so for younger souls, still figuring out who they are (and what this whole life thing even is), it’s even harder.

So we watch, mirror, and match – not always because it feels true, but because it feels safe.

🗒️ Side note: That push–pull is especially familiar for many quiet souls who feel both shy and drawn to people. I unpack it here: 🌿 → shy extroverts & the push-pull paradox

Because it’s one thing to be an academic failure and let your parents down; it’s quite another to be a social failure. And for teenagers, that can feel like the worst kind of failure.

So comparison quietly becomes another way the mind tries to protect us. It tells us that being different might invite disapproval or embarrassment – the same discomfort we’ve been trying to avoid since those early childhood moments.

It’s the memories of:

“Failure equals shame – so it’s safer to avoid it.”

That slowly write the social story of:

“If I can be like everyone else, I’ll belong and if I belong, I’ll be safe.”

So, avoidance hides, perfectionism polishes and comparison blends.

How Childhood Fear of Failure Follows Us Into Adulthood

They may begin as quiet scripts we learn from those around us – stories shaped by early experiences that slowly become the beliefs we carry. And while we may graduate from childhood into adulthood, the defences we once used often enrol alongside us.

Over time, these strategies evolve into habits, subtly shaping how we see, connect, and move through the world. Because those earliest lessons don’t disappear – they simply find new life in the culture around us.

Which feels like the perfect (well, almost perfect) place to pause this post.

Next time, we’ll explore what happens when those early fears grow up with us – particularly in the workplace. Where mistakes can feel public, costly, and deeply personal, and where fear of failure often finds new ways to take root.

(I’ve linked to part three here 🌿 → Fear of Making Mistakes at Work | Why Failure Feels So Heavy)

Until Next Time…

I know that taking a deep dive into the childhood archives can feel heavy, especially when fear of failing sits close to the surface.

But just as the beliefs we hold didn’t form overnight, neither will the ones we wish to change.

Which brings me back to childhood, because even as we reflect on these old stories, there’s something to be learned from the smallest among us.

When children take their first steps, they stumble often. They fall, wobble, roll, and crawl before they ever find their stride. And yet, they always get back up.

They don’t question their worth, or decide they’ll never walk again. They simply try, learn, and try once more.

Perhaps that’s the quiet wisdom we can carry forward: change rarely happens in big transformations, but in small, steady steps.

And yes, we might stumble but falling doesn’t mean failing.

So, it’s here where I’ll leave you with a question:

Which of your old stories still shapes how you see yourself and is it still true now?

Because while our beliefs may have been written long ago, the pencil is still in our hands.

As always, be kind to yourself.

I’ll see you soon,
Charlotte 🪷

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