The Hard Work of Getting it Wrong

I got it wrong.

Not in the dramatic, headline-making kind of way. But in the quiet, frustrating kind.

The kind where you miss something you wish you’d caught.
The kind where you replay the timeline in your head—trying to figure out

how,
when,
why you didn’t see it.

I care deeply about the things I commit to.

I try to be prepared.
Thorough.
Attentive.

But I missed something this time. And that miss had consequences.

It was humbling.
Embarrassing.
Disappointing.

And it meant having to step away from something I genuinely wanted.

Not because I didn’t have the passion or the experience—
but because I missed a step that mattered.

And that part was on me.

So I did what I’ve had to do before—what most of us will have to do at some point:

I owned it.
I apologized.
And I reminded myself that doing the right thing doesn’t always feel good in the moment.

But it’s still the right thing.

Here’s the thing I’m learning:

Messing up isn’t the end of your integrity.

But hiding it—or pretending it doesn’t matter—might be.

There’s something strangely clarifying about moments like this.

They cut through the noise.
They strip away the polish.
They remind you that being human is messy
and that growth usually doesn’t come from getting everything right.

It comes from the moments that sting.

The ones where your stomach drops,
your heart sinks,
and your only way forward is honesty.

I wish I could say this was a one-time thing.

But the truth is, I’ve had to own my share of mistakes over the years.

And while it never gets easy, it does get clearer.

Owning it builds trust.
Avoiding it builds walls.

So I’m leaning into the discomfort.

Letting it teach me something.
Letting it stretch me—just a little further—
toward grace, awareness, and responsibility.

Because I want to be the kind of person who doesn’t just lead when things go well,
but also when they don’t.

So here’s the question I’m sitting with:

What if the moments we get it wrong
are really invitations to get it right—
in a deeper, more honest way?

I’m still learning to do that.
One missed moment at a time.
One repair at a time.
One brave apology at a time.