In my life, I often come back to what I call the “Oh, Shit!” Moments — where something happens in life that truly, deeply humbles us. I’ve previously penned writings about how shame does not serve a useful purpose in our healings. This is the sister writing about how guilt or embarrassment can keep us on the right track.

This past week I was driving on a new road. I follow navigation fairly easily and I don’t drive distracted. I don’t text and drive. At most, I might be changing a song, but I can do this easily on my steering wheel. I was following navigation well, but my exit came up quickly on me and I had to move over a lane. It was safe for me to switch and I checked my mirrors and blind spot quickly, but it all happened very fast as I had to react quickly. I made my exit and all was well. It was a hallmark “Oh, Shit” Moment though in how my body went into panic mode and my stomach dropped when I realized I was in the wrong lane. These moments humble us and I believe are necessary to live a wholehearted life. 

I think it’s useful to see guilt or embarrassment through a silly lens as an “Oh, Shit!” Moment because this invites us to look at our human mistakes and be compassionate with ourselves and others. Not every mistake will feel lighthearted or easy to navigate, but being gentle with ourselves will help us be kinder. And in kindness, we can best enact positive, well-meaning change. 

Even with all of our wisdom, training, and knowledge in our academic and professional roles, none of us are perfect; perfection is unattainable. I find it useful to show deep pride in my triumphs, like graduating with my Bachelor’s degree Magna Cum Laude and being accepted into a well-respected Master’s in Art Therapy program, but so much happens even behind-the-scenes of our greatest wins.

While I may not publicly document every failure behind my wins, I remind myself of my life as a whole in my everyday introspections and I find solace in sharing the stories safely within my communities to maintain my humility. I also think it’s just boring to boast perfection; it’s merely an act. We are human and fallible. I think it’s endearing to show humanness. It is magnificent to be both a masterpiece and a work in progress simultaneously. 

In constantly checking in with ourselves about our mistakes, we have the choice to ruminate in pain about them, or we can choose to work to do better. In places we have harmed others, we can make plans to hold ourselves accountable so we do better next time. We can only do better when we know better. And we can only do better when we feel better. 

The first day of one of my classes this semester, our professor shared with us that a colleague of hers recently corrected her on the pronunciation of the name of a pioneer in the field. She had been mispronouncing the name for years — “Oh, Shit!” She landed on the sobering realization that it was humbling. Then, she corrected her mistake and did her best to remember, still giving herself grace if she messes it up mistakenly. This story reminded me that I called a new coworker by the wrong name my first day working with her. All she did was correct me kindly once and I haven’t gotten it wrong since! All of our mistakes vary in severity in accounts of distance and frequency, but there is a common theme of how we react that defines our lesson.

Our lesson in making human mistakes is that we ignore it and keep it far away, we let it fester and punish ourselves with shame, or we see through the mistake with grace. 

People who like keeping up facades of perfectionism may feel inclined to bury the mistake and pretend as if it didn’t happen. This method can also bleed into the action of feeling deep shame, but it can also be separate if we feel so headstrong about maintaining the facade. The final response is one we must all practice. We all face pressures in life to be or appear perfect. Sometimes the one before us in the mirror is the biggest cause of insecurity. 

My own internal processing of my mistakes where I’ve harmed others in the past is vast. I used to feel deep shame here. I rarely have to apologize for my work here in the present because I research well and am thoughtful in considering different angles. I’ve been called in before, but I haven’t been for years. I do my best, but I know I’m not even above making more mistakes by accident. Being open with others when we mess up and calling on our humility is key. I think on a personal level, we have to be open to doing this internal work. People don’t see the extent of this internal work I do, but it’s a system of checks and balances in a sense. My greatest strength here is that I account for my wrongdoings, while simultaneously showing myself compassion and grace. 

I’ve certainly had my fair share of “Oh, Shit!” Moments in these online spaces where I misunderstood someone or made an assumption. Now that I feel better in my mental health and show deep compassion for myself and others, I’m able to use those mistakes as lessons and be grateful for how I’ve changed for the better. I’ve been someone people look to for guidance this last decade, but these last five years, I’ve refined how I react and how I heal. (Don’t we all learn as we grow?)

My worst mistakes were made when I was a child — not knowing better and navigating trauma without any help. While I hold my inner child accountable fiercely, I also forgive her. Not everyone can say that they go that deep with their inner world, so I’m proud to do this work — in therapy, in my own time, and with the people in my life. My chosen family affirms this work and is the most gentle with me. Over the years, their forgiveness really cemented in my own self-compassion. 

When we approach ourselves with grace and self-compassion, we radiate a sense of deep security in who we are. When others see that we are comfortable making mistakes, they feel safe in our presence. I’ve never watched someone imitating an air of perfectionism be truly happy and secure. The pressures may always be lingering in the background, but we get to choose how we respond to them and we get to choose to turn down the volume.