I’m training someone at work, a position that I have had less than a year, and a department that lacks any kind of training program or updates policies and procedures. After a complicated and rare case, my supervisor asked when my orientee and I would have time to chat about the case… and I panicked. My anxiety kicked in. I was afraid that I had made a *gasp* mistake.
A mistake, as I learned growing up, was a bad word. A mistake was shameful. It required remorse and repentance. It required apologies. Making a mistake was a disappointment. A judgment. A failure. An action that directly decreased one’s value as a person. So when I thought I was going to be confronted about making a mistake? I was terrified.
But my supervisor… she walked through the case with us, explaining different rules and nuances (this job is full of nuances). She spoke at a calm level and with a general interest in educating. She didn’t seem annoyed. She didn’t seem bothered. She didn’t seem like she was flexing her power of superiority.
That’s when I realized, at 35, that “mistake” is not a bad word. It is safe to make mistakes… generally. I’m likely not going to be “in trouble” if I get an answer wrong. Or if I miss a detail. Or if I break something that can be easily fixed or replaced. Mistakes should be used as a learning opportunity, absolutely. But not to scare, intimidate, or shame each other.
So then, of course, it struck me just how many aspects of my life had fostered a fear-based way of living.
As a child, my needs compared to others seemed non-existent. I was secondary. I had to obey. I had to comply. I had to be subservient. I was at the bottom of the totem pole and someone somewhere would make it known. That probably also comes from being the youngest in almost every setting. Family, school, my profession for awhile…
In my marriage, I was afraid of mistakes. From big mistakes, to something as little as perhaps putting just a little too much salt on the food. I was overly apologetic. I panicked. I became emotional. I was passive aggressive. And this, of course was a conditioned response from growing up in a household run by intimidation, fear, and an added bonus of inconsistency. (To be extremely clear, my husband was not the same as my father. My reactions, though, were very much related. I felt much safer with my husband, clearly, because I could be a brat.)
I never wanted to be in a position of power or authority. Not even for myself. I didn’t have the skills to communicate and negotiate. I didn’t have the ability to stand behind my own opinions or desires. I very much wanted to avoid anything that could resemble conflict or disagreement. My nervous system desired homeostasis at all times, and it was far from achieving that. The more power, accountability, or responsibility I had, the more opportunities I was given to make a mistake. And that was terrifying.
But then I chose a profession where the cost of making a mistake can be incredulously high! And a profession where a common phrase is “nurses eat their young”! I entered a work environment where stress levels were so high it was toxic. It was diminishing my mental and physical health. Giving the wrong dose could seriously harm or kill someone. Mistakes meant getting in trouble. Forgetting to chart that one thing causes accreditation checks. Forgetting to pass that medication that was scheduled at the change of shift causes the next nurse to become passive aggressive or give the silent treatment or roll their eyes.
That was a bit of a tangent, but my point is… I was so afraid of making mistakes, that I froze into passive indecision.
I didn’t take action. I let things happen to me. I lived for others and tried to meet their needs so that maybe I would feel safe… have a sense of security. My boundaries were weak simply because I was trying to keep the peace. I wanted to be liked by others, trying to find that external validation and acceptance. Essentially I was giving up being the main character of my own story because I was afraid I would “do it” incorrectly. It’s no mistake that I was never player one for Super Nintendo.
I chose to give away my power, autonomy, and self-agency while simultaneously being upset when others chose to use that power over me. I was mistaking giving away unearned trust as being vulnerable and flexible. I valued passiveness in myself and forced others into an active role. And I really think that much of that stems from the fear of making a mistake. The fear of being wrong.
I am grateful for all the ways I’ve grown these past couple of years. I’m still learning, but I have finally found myself in a place where my nervous system can relax. I am safe. I can live my life in an active role. I will make mistakes along the way and there will be plenty of learning opportunities. They will probably be painful as hell. But it’s OK to make them.
Lunar Lilies 