Nothing to Fix — Only Something to Face

I used to think that if I meditated enough, did enough work on myself, and reached a certain level of intelligence, I would eradicate mistakes from my life—and no longer have to face the discomfort and frustration that come with them.

And there is still a part of me—much smaller at this point—that believes if I actually had my shit fully together enough to be a respectable human, then I wouldn’t make mistakes.

There is a deep-seated belief surfacing in these statements.

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Somewhere along the way, I learned to equate being a man with never making mistakes.

I don’t recall seeing the men around me ever admitting to making any. It was as if they were omniscient—like they always knew the right thing to do, and even when things didn’t go as planned or someone was hurt, it was never named as something they had done.

This part of me has been in an unwinding process for years.

I’m still learning that what I call a “mistake” isn’t inherently a bad thing. It’s more so an event, an action, or a reaction that made sense given my conditioning, my level of awareness, and the state of my nervous system at the time.

I’ve seen role models of mine exemplify what it looks like to own their contribution to a relational rupture—another word for what we might call a mistake. Even without knowing exactly what’s happening inside of them, I can feel the strength it takes to move toward conflict—instead of moving away, which my inner child much prefers.

This isn’t just about men.

Recognizing that we all make mistakes on a regular basis touches something deeper about what it means to be human.

We make mistakes.

And we do it often.

And it can be hard to sit in the discomfort of being confronted with one.

The hope is to eventually move beyond what we typically think of as “mistakes”—a word that often carries undertones of shame or “being bad.” Closer to the truth is that we often act without full awareness of the effect we have on our environment or on others.

Is that still a mistake?

It gets nuanced here—but ultimately, I think it falls into this:

Something I did that had an intended or unintended effect on myself and/or another—something that has consequences, and something I now have the opportunity to take responsibility for, while also holding compassion for myself and all involved.

There is a path toward becoming more integrated—one where we honor our feelings and emotions in the face of conflict, take full responsibility for our part in the situation, and extend care and compassion for how our actions may have impacted others. Then, we apologize and move forward with a natural increase in awareness.

Sometimes we need a clear plan for the change that needs to happen following the apology. Other times, all that is needed is a small adjustment.

I find myself reflecting on the small adjustment category, because this happens so often—and for a long time, it was incredibly difficult for me to know how to handle these moments.

So you can understand where I’m coming from, let me give you some insight into my relationship with making mistakes—and where I find myself now.

The Conditioning of Shame

When it comes to mistakes, I have lived a life fraught with shame.

Shame that I learned.

Shame that was given.

And shame that I took on as mine to “fix.”

Why so much shame?

Because the culture here in the U.S. often demands perfectionism and exceptionalism—without honoring the long, winding process it takes to get anywhere close to that.

It’s commonplace to be reprimanded for mistakes—for missing the mark, for getting something wrong.

And pain often follows that reprimand.

At times, the mistake itself also triggered pain in another person, which then unconsciously transferred onto the one who made the mistake—creating even more pain.

This is a cycle many of us have lived inside of.

Instead of mistakes being a moment to slow down and learn, they were often handled in ways that conditioned us to believe there is something inherently wrong with us for having made them.

And that belief doesn’t just live in the mind.

It lives in the body—and it is uncomfortable.

It shows up as tension.

As contraction.

As the impulse to shut down, run away, fight, hide, or fix what just happened as quickly as possible.

That belief led me to ruminate—obsessively, and for far longer than necessary—on my mistakes.

I didn’t want to forget them.

I wanted to hold onto them for as long as possible so I could “learn” how to never make them again… or else I might lose something I needed.

Meeting the Inner Child

I’ve done a lot of work around this.

But what has been most helpful is my work with my inner child.

When I make a mistake, or get “caught” doing something I either chose to do—or unintentionally did or didn’t do—my inner child gets activated. Even now, as an adult, I can feel that familiar sense arise:

“I’m in trouble.”

And that sense commonly comes with shame, sadness, fear, freeze, and sometimes anger.

About two months ago, I self-led a profound process where I saw a vision of my inner child—distraught about something.

In the vision, my inner child was going up to my partner, trying to soothe or fix whatever was happening.

This was something I recognized as common in our relationship… but far from ideal.

My subconscious clearly noticed something was missing in this dynamic.

What was missing was me.

As the process continued, I stepped in as the mature adult and—in this imagined scene—told my partner:

“I’ve got this.”

Then I took my inner child into another room and tended to his needs with the love, care, and presence that only I can offer.

That moment changed something.

What I took away from this process was a simple truth: the best way to show my partner how much I love her is by loving and caring for myself.

This process gave me access to an experience that had been deeply missing in my nervous system.

What I witnessed was a way of tending to my inner child that made it no one else’s responsibility but my own.

I not only understood this mentally—I felt the power of it in my body.

The importance of tending to the relationship between my inner child and my present-day adult self is truly what has helped save my relationship—and will continue to be invaluable.

There Is Nothing to Fix

I bring this process up because a recent scenario necessitated the “I’ve got this” energy.

On a recent morning, I made several “mistakes”—some from lack of awareness, some from laziness, lack of foresight, and simple forgetfulness. Interestingly, a few of them surfaced in succession within about 30 minutes, which was kind of intense.

My inner child got activated and wanted to hide.

I could feel the onset of a shame spiral.

So I decided to slow down and sit, feel it, and be with it—but the compulsive sense was:

How do I fix this?

Then something shifted in my consciousness.

The space helped me see there was nothing to fix—

only something to face.

I gathered the energy to mobilize me toward communication.

I started by asking my partner for consent to talk about what had transpired.

She said yes.

And then I shared my narrative of what I perceived had happened, and how it was making me feel.

I owned the “mistakes” and the role I played in their effects.

I said clearly:

I did those things that led to these consequences.

I see my thoughts and feelings around it.

I see how that may have affected you.

I see how I could have done something differently.

I’m sorry.

And that’s essentially it.

Sometimes there needs to be a plan to ensure that the appropriate changes will be implemented, but other times what is needed is simply a natural expansion of awareness.

A Different Way of Being

It was beautifully received by my partner, and I felt so much better knowing I handled this as the adult man that I am today.

The repair was made, and we moved forward.

This may sound so incredibly simple—but wow, it has taken so much work to get to this point.

I know I am going to keep making “mistakes.” Ruptures are going to keep happening that could have been avoided by operating with more awareness, care, and mindfulness.

This is perfectly okay, normal, and sometimes really messy. There is a wide spectrum here.

And I understand the importance of this inevitability—without these moments, we would have far fewer opportunities to grow our perspective, our understanding, and our compassion for ourselves and others.

But there is something even more soothing about reminding myself that mistakes are not only welcome…

they are impossible to avoid as long as I am living.

My goal is to be even more connected to life, including all that life has to offer me.

And the beautiful thing that happens naturally from that is the Love that grows and grows.

That is truly all that matters to me.

May we all keep growing our capacity for Love.

And may we all perceive enough safety to lead with Love—and keep on Loving Forward.