For as long as I can remember, the phrase “Failure is not an option” has served as my family’s motto. Borrowed from flight director Gene Kranz in the 1995 filmApollo 13the line often draws jokes from others who assume it reflects an obsession with perfection. In reality, it has nothing to do with being the best; it is simply about the refusal to stop existing. Ron Howard’s adaptation of that historic rescue mission has been a childhood favorite of mine, but it took on a new, profound meaning during the latter half of 2025.
When my own personal systems experienced a catastrophic failure—my engagement ended abruptly in a Sydney hotel room in April 2025, just 15 minutes before I was set to perform for an audience of 2,000—I entered a state of survival mode. While friends suggested I watch tragic romances likeBlue ValentineorCall Me By Your Nameto “let it out,” I found no comfort in those narratives. As a performer who needed to maintain my professional obligations, I required a story defined by action rather than romantic sentiment. I didn’t need tears; I needed the steady, rational focus of Mission Control.
I have always been drawn to the engineers and scientists in the film—the chain-smoking, white-shirted figures who prioritized logic over emotion. Characters like Ed Harris’s Gene Kranz, who famously declared, “We are not losing the crew!” and Gary Sinise’s Ken Mattingly, who refused to rest while his friends were in danger, became my anchors. Their commitment to solving problems without guessing mirrored the support system I built around myself. During those difficult months, my friends and family acted as my own Mission Control, ensuring I ate, helping me travel to shows, and keeping me on the right trajectory while I focused on the simple, necessary task of putting one foot in front of the other.
The film is a testament to the idea of a “successful failure.” When the NASA director fears the worst disaster in the agency’s history, Kranz’s response—“I believe this is going to be our finest hour”—never fails to move me to tears. It taught me that when you feel as though you might implode, the goal isn’t to be perfect; it is to get home. By treating my life like the crew ofApollo 13I managed to continue touring, perform as a horse, and prepare for the Edinburgh Fringe.
Today, when people ask how I am, I tell them I am like that crew: I experienced a rupture, but I landed. I am no longer in crisis, and like the engineers at Mission Control, I am now focused on the next mission. My showElf Lyons Is the Woman on the Edgeis currently running at the Pleasance Courtyard in Edinburgh through August 31. The report also notes that i’ve loved Apollo 13 since I was a child. The report also notes that if I couldn’t understand an emotion, I used scientific examples and historical events as analogies and metaphors to explain my emotional state, since I was little. The report also notes that it was never the trapped floating astronauts led by Tom Hanks’s Jim Lovell who fascinated me, for this reason. The report also notes that it was sexy, crew-cut Ed Harris saying: “Let’s work the problem, people. The report also notes that creativity, rationality, calmness and respect for the data and the facts, mission Control embodied everything I loved about humanity and learning: teamwork. The report also notes that this was why, in 2025, when my own systems module exploded, Apollo 13 became my breakup movie. The report also notes that my relationship with my fiance ended in a concrete hotel room under a flightpath in Sydney, 15 minutes before I was due to perform to 2,000 people, on a balmy night in Australia in April 2025. The report also notes that instantly, my brain shut down and went into survival mode.
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