I grew up believing I should never make a mistake. That there was something wrong with me when I did make a mistake, as of course I did, all the time!
The result of my belief was that I felt terrible every time I made a mistake. Which means, I felt terrible all the time!
Another result of my belief was I couldn’t tell anyone else they had made a mistake. Because if there was something wrong with me when I made a mistake, by telling someone else they had made a mistake, I was also telling them there was something wrong with them.
I couldn’t even return a meal in a restaurant if I got the wrong order—I ate it, or didn’t, and complained to those around me who would (or had to) listen.
None of this was in my conscious awareness, of course. I just knew I felt terrible all the time and I was very defensive. It was hard for me to accept I’d made a mistake—I’d push back and try to make the mistake about whoever told me I was wrong. It wasn’t just that I, selfishly, would rather there be something wrong with someone else than with with me, it was that I couldn’t handle thinking there was something wrong with me—again.
Over the years, I’ve changed my thinking. With awareness and self-compassion, I’ve come to believe that I make mistakes and there’s nothing wrong with me. We all make mistakes and there’s nothing wrong with any of us. We’re all human and making mistakes is part of being human.
When I make a mistake I try to make it right, but I (usually—I still make mistakes in this, as in everything else) don’t make it mean that there’s something wrong with me. I don’t make it mean I’m not worthy of love and belonging, as Brené Brown would say.
A few weeks ago, I took my son to one of his favorite places to eat: Five Guys. It’s a burger place and my son always orders a hamburger with nothing on it. We sat outside to eat our burgers and my son took the top bun off his so he could drown it in ketchup.
“Ew,” he said, “there’s something on it!” I looked and sure enough, one side of the meat patty was covered in barbecue sauce.
“I think they got some barbecue sauce from another burger on yours,” I said.
“I don’t want that!” he said.
“Okay, do you want another one?” I asked.
“Yes!”
“Just bring this one back and tell them what happened. Ask them to make you a new one.”
He wrapped the burger back up and brought it inside. A few minutes later he came back with a new burger. He smothered it in ketchup and ate it.
As he did, I reflected that he obviously didn’t believe making a mistake had anything to do with his self-worth. Otherwise, he would have been uncomfortable telling the staff at Five Guys they made a mistake.
That’s when I knew I really didn’t believe making a mistake meant there was something wrong with me anymore. If I did, I would have modeled that and my son would have the same belief—at least until he was old enough to question his thoughts and change them.
This is what awareness of our thinking can bring to our world. We change, and those around us change, too.
I’m grateful to my parents and all my other teachers who have modeled the belief that we all make mistakes and that’s okay. I know I’m not perfect. I still get very defensive at times. I’m human.
But I’m going to keep practicing self-awareness. The more I do, the less time I spend feeling terrible and the more time I spend feeling joy, especially as I watch my son eat a little burger with his ketchup!