I know what it's like to lose the farm.

In the early seventies I started farming in Addison County, Vermont. In 1976 I built a meat packing plant that would take not only the pork and beef production from our farm but from many other farms in the Champlain Valley. I felt Vermont farmers needed to diversify themselves from dairying, and I believed the timing was right.

I was wrong. I was 26 years old and I'd bet the farm. I'd raised some capital but it wasn't enough. I'd put everything on the line, and in less than 18 months I'd lost it all. Seven years of blood, sweat and tears. A hundred and fifty acres, my home and most of my confidence were gone.

When all options had been explored, it was clear that bankruptcy was the only option. Going broke isn't so bad; it's whistling right on by broke that's really tough.

Many people ask me today how I dealt with that failure—as well as another big one that happened ten years later. Sometimes, I'm not sure how I got through it. I guess we don't remember pain all that well.

What I say is that I left the meat plant with only three things: my experience, my rhododendron plant and my attitude. I don't know what happened to the office plant. And the knowledge and experience I got in the meat business doesn't provide a whole lot of value to me today.

What really has been of value is my attitude—especially toward setbacks.

It wasn't always easy. I didn't always have a great attitude about my business failure. But I did hang in there.

I'd made a promise to myself when I was 20 years old that I would never quit. I told myself that no matter what challenges I might face in reaching my goals I would never throw in the towel.

There were certainly times I wanted to give up on myself and there were even times when I felt like I DESERVED to give up on myself.  But somewhere I found the strength to carry on.

And I'm sure glad I did.

I kept a positive attitude by reading good books and listening to good tapes. I kept myself up by hanging out with positive, successful people. I monitored my self talk and wouldn't allow myself to hold pity parties.

Did I get discouraged? Sure.

Was it hard work? You bet.

Was it worth it? Absolutely.

For those of you who might be facing difficult times—now or in the future—I say, "Hang in there. You CAN do it. The pain WILL go away."

Just because you've failed at something doesn't make YOU a failure—UNLESS YOU QUIT.