The Relief of the First Mistake

Photo by Etienne Girardet on Unsplash

There’s a strange kind of peace that comes with finally making your first real mistake. Not the small, fixable kind, but one big enough to be noticed, big enough to get scolded for.

Yesterday, that moment finally came for me.

For the past three years since joining this company, I’ve operated under a silent but ever-present pressure—not just to do well, but to be flawless. The kind of flawless that doesn’t slip, doesn’t drop the ball, doesn’t ever need to be called out. And I had lived up to it. I delivered, again and again, through impossible deadlines, shifting priorities, and shrinking teams. But then the workload tripled, the team got cut from five to two, and suddenly, I was the only one left to carry the front-facing weight of it all.

And then it happens. Sumabit ako.

I was juggling five projects, all converging on the same deadline, and I missed the due diligence on one. The inevitable happened: I got scolded.

And instead of feeling crushed or spiraling into self-doubt, I felt… relieved.

Not because I enjoy failure, but because after all this time, I was finally proven human. I had carried the weight of perfection for so long that it felt like I wasn’t allowed to falter. Like the streak of always delivering had become more important than my own limits, my own reality. But now, the streak is broken. And I’m still standing.

I can even say I felt a certain gratitude for the person who scolded me (nothing less than the Japanese country director himself). Because after the scolding was the trust that I will do better next time.

Old me would have spiraled, replaying the mistake over and over, measuring myself against my own impossibly high bar. I might have even had a breakdown over it. But now? Now I see it as just another moment, another lesson. Another serendipity.

Because in a few weeks, when I walk into that headquarters summit, I’ll walk in broken in. I will no longer be the person trying to prove they belong by being perfect. I’ll be the person who knows their worth, who knows that this mistake—this singular moment—does not define me or my work.

And that’s a far more powerful place to be.