Why I Wish I Made More Mistakes

The surprising lesson that failure can teach us about living fully.

As I watched the snow fall while sitting in my rather cozy bed, I thought about a crucial question: What is the one thing I regret most about my life, considering that I cannot change the past? Instead of watching a movie, I chose to amuse myself by listening to the quiet symphony of my suffering and unspoken regrets. I couldn’t find anything remarkably wrong; I was still waiting to be astonished by the answer that emerged. Then, through the undeniable expression on my face, my thoughts spoke clearly: I wish I had made more mistakes.

A perfectionist isn’t out to hurt anyone but themselves; they struggle to see things for what they are, mainly because, to them, everything isn’t black and white. Instead, they see the warmth of colors in a soulless day, and that’s where the desperation of becoming perfect comes from.

Growing up, I was the perfect child every parent dreamt of, a straight-A student continuously winning awards and honorary certificates all the way, yet I was still disappointed with no one but myself, so what went wrong? I’ve always had this idea where if I excel in every department of life, then I am set out to truly be the greatest, but as a human, your main focus lies on the imperfections, or shall I say the things you don’t have, but to my surprise, I wished I was the opposite of everything I was.

In the shadows of perfectionism

I sat down, mesmerized by the old days, thinking of how I never managed to screw it up. By that, I mean I was never late to class, had already studied the material before, and never tried to run away on purpose. My grades never managed to fall behind either; they were the only thing I could keep up with, apart from the facade that I had to live with. I never managed to fit in with any group of friends and struggled a lot to build mutual connections.

Looks of pity were scattered all over my teachers’ faces. It almost felt like I had disappointed them heavily. I felt like a child again, wanting some sort of validation, and the only way I could get that was by getting things right.

Looking back after all those years, I wanted to be as messy as possible. I wanted to ditch class; why not? I wanted to book that ticket, hell yeah! I wanted to look at myself in the eye and stop being nice and naive. There’s a difference between being an open book and being a lonely, naive child desperate to fit in. Even though the door isn’t letting me in, I can see the light. But what if it’s misleading me? What if I am meant to find my own door?

I wanted to be as wild as possible, to do everything without worrying if it’s too cringe or getting the ick in the process. What if I made that one mistake and it led to another? Why should I be afraid of that process? What do I gain by stressing over a situation with no guaranteed outcome?

I wish I made more mistakes not to enjoy life more, but to learn that no matter what I do, I won’t be satisfied. And that’s the beauty of it. I won’t have to wonder "what if," because I already made the mistake. There’s no going back to reverse it; it’s there, and I don’t need to change it. That’s comforting to know.

People look at mistakes as a big taboo. It feels like you’re expected to get it right all the time, and when you don’t, there are always people ready to tear you down. Some make tearing others down their profession; they loathe you when you're successful and swear to make you an example when you fail. That’s why I choose to sleep at night knowing that mistakes are just another chance to redirect me to the path I was too distracted to see. Perspectives matter; they shape the way we think and ultimately define how we grow.

lost in my own thoughts

"So I welcome my mistakes; they're not failures but signals guiding me to where I truly belong. After all, life isn't about getting everything right; it's about learning, growing, and becoming better than yesterday."