Picking Up the Pieces: When Mistakes Threaten to Define You
A personal journey through shame, healing, and the courage to begin again
Sometimes, I wonder if I’ve made more mistakes than anyone else my age. Maybe you’ve felt that way too—like your life is a series of missteps you just can’t seem to outgrow. It’s a quiet weight, one you carry alone, while the world rushes forward and everyone else seems to have it all figured out.
That was me. Still is, sometimes.
I hated making mistakes. The more I hated them, the more stuck I became. I wrote countless New Year’s resolutions, listened to inspiring sermons, watched motivational videos till I became addicted to them. I even decided I wanted to help others thrive too—maybe become a speaker, a coach, someone who gives hope but deep down, I was the one in desperate need of help.
I had a mental list of every wrong turn I had taken, every flaw that kept me from moving forward. I wanted to grow, but my self-judgment held me captive. The world kept moving, and I remained frozen.
On the outside, people admired me. I know because word got back to me. I was told I was an inspiration. I was the quiet girl who “had it all together.” Funny how silence is often mistaken for peace. If you have a friend who’s always quiet, it might not be shyness. Sometimes, it’s trauma. (I might be wrong but maybe I’m not.)
Looking inward, I began to trace where this fear of mistakes came from. My family had high expectations of me. I was the "golden child," and with every misstep came the familiar, crushing question: Even you, Princess? Like I wasn’t allowed to be human. I played the part, either performing perfection or hiding my flaws to keep the image alive.
And it cost me.
I had so much on my plate—more than I ever showed. I started punishing myself for the tiniest errors. If my mistake was public? I could literally fall sick: diarrhoea, trembling, cold sweats. My body would revolt at the memory. Even now, I struggle with giving spontaneous answers. What if I say the wrong thing?
People say there’s no right or wrong answer, but for me, every answer has degrees—and I only wanted the highest grade. I don’t think I’m an overthinker (you might argue otherwise), but I am someone who identified too deeply with failure. I became someone who couldn’t quite forgive herself for not being flawless.
I remember overhearing my dad once say he thought I had low self-esteem. He wasn’t wrong. I had none. I believed everyone else had it all together, that they didn’t make the same messy mistakes. I saw myself as incompetent, and I had the “evidence” to prove it.
I stayed stuck for years.
However, even in my lowest moments, grace found me—like stumbling into a miracle. Looking back now, I see how God had gone ahead of me. (My middle name literally means that—God has gone ahead.) I used to think I couldn’t move forward after a setback, but now I know better.
I feared success too, not just failure. The pressure to maintain it felt unbearable. I would downplay my wins before anyone else had the chance to. I would hide my joy so it wouldn’t be scrutinized. Failure, oddly enough, felt safer. At least there, I wasn’t pretending. It was easier to linger in the pain than to risk rising again and falling again.
But I’ve learnt something I want to would like to pass on:
Mistakes do not define you—unless you let them.
"You either walk inside your story and own it, or you stand outside your story and hustle for your worthiness." — Brené Brown
Your response to failure is more important than the failure itself. You can learn. You can grow. You can pick up the pieces and move on—not just dragging yourself through the process, but actually enjoying the journey.
Life is unpredictable. It will stretch you, humble you, surprise you and yes, you will make both good and bad choices but beating yourself up won’t heal you. It won’t grow you. It only stifles the best in you.
You don’t need to be perfect to move forward. You just need to be willing.
If you’ve been stuck, I get it and you don’t have to rush your healing. You don’t have to be loud to be brave. But please—don’t let your past rob you of the future you still have.
You can begin again.
"Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could have been any different." — Oprah Winfrey