A couple nights ago, I was out with friends. One of those nights where the conversation is easy, the laughter comes fast, and you lose track of time in the best way. I might have had an extra beverage. Or two. Nothing wild, just enough to make confidence show up a little louder than wisdom.
Somewhere in the middle of all that fun, I decided it would be a really smart idea to ride a mechanical bull.
Let me pause right here and add an important detail.
I had shoulder surgery in July.
Another important detail. The number one instruction from my surgeon was very clear. Do not fall.
He did not say, “Do not fall unless you are having a great night with friends,” He did not say, “Do not fall unless your cousin and husband go first and make it look easy.” He said, do not fall.
And yet, there I was.
This Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time
My cousin hopped on the bull. My husband went next. Everyone was laughing, cheering, recording videos that I am sure will resurface at the most inconvenient time possible. And then it was my turn. I heard myself say, “Oh yeah, I’ll do it too,” as if this was a totally reasonable decision for a 53 year old woman with a surgically repaired shoulder.
It was not.
First of all, getting onto the bull should have been my sign to stop. I could barely get my butt up there. I was sliding off before the ride even started. The guy running the bull had to grab my arm and pull me into position like he was hoisting cargo, not assisting a grown woman who absolutely should know better.
That alone should have been my exit ramp.
But no.
I got settled. Sort of. The music started. The bull moved.
I lasted maybe five seconds.
Not six.
Five.
Apparently six seconds is the benchmark. I did not meet the benchmark.
The Moment You Realize You Messed Up
And then boom.
Down I went.
Guess where I landed.
Right on the shoulder.
The shoulder.
The surgically repaired shoulder.
The one shoulder I was told to protect.
As I lay there for a moment, doing a quick mental and physical scan of my body, my choices, and my entire personality, one thought rose above the rest.
Well, that was dumb.
And then another thought followed.
Why do we do this to ourselves?
Not necessarily riding mechanical bulls, although if you have, welcome to the club. But how often do we make choices that we know, on some level, are probably not the best idea?
We say yes when our gut says no. We ignore our own limits because we do not want to be the boring one, we override common sense because everyone else seems to be doing it. We push past our own boundaries because we do not want to disappoint, miss out, or feel left behind.
Why We Punish Ourselves for Being Human
And then when it goes sideways, what do we do?
We beat ourselves up.
We replay it over and over. Why did I do that? I should have known better, I am too old for this, I am too smart for this. What is wrong with me?
We pile on guilt and shame like it is our responsibility to punish ourselves for making a mistake.
But here is the thing we forget.
That is life.
Every single person messes up, every single person has moments they wish they could rewind. Every single person makes decisions they regret, sometimes big ones and sometimes small ones that just leave a bruise and a funny story.
The difference is not whether you make mistakes. The difference is what you do after.
Learning Without Living in Shame
There is a huge difference between learning from a mistake and living in self punishment.
Learning says, okay, that was not my smartest move. Maybe no mechanical bulls for a while. Punishment says, you should feel bad about yourself for even trying. Learning moves you forward. Punishment keeps you stuck.
And let’s be honest. Many of us live in punishment mode way longer than necessary.
We treat ourselves like we need consequences for being human. We hold ourselves to impossible standards and then wonder why we feel exhausted, discouraged, and disconnected from joy.
Yes, I made a dumb choice. Hopefully nothing is torn. Hopefully it is just bruised. But even if it was worse, it still would not mean I am reckless, irresponsible, or incapable of making good decisions.
It would mean I am human, it would mean I was having fun, it would mean I forgot, for a moment, that gravity always wins.
What This Has to Do With Confidence
There is also something else worth saying here.
Confidence does not mean you never make mistakes. Confidence means you do not let your mistakes define you.
Somewhere along the way, many of us learned that being confident meant being polished, careful, and always in control. But real confidence is quieter than that. It is the ability to say, “Yep, that was not great,” without spiraling into shame, it is the ability to laugh at yourself without tearing yourself down. It is knowing you can mess up and still respect yourself.
And honestly, I do not really want to grow up.
I like fun, I like laughter, I like nights that turn into stories. But there are moments, like this one, where I think, okay, maybe the margarita is the better choice than the mechanical bull. That feels like growth. Or at least compromise.
So if you have done something recently that made you cringe, I want you to hear this.
If you sent the text you wish you had not sent, if you said yes when you meant no. If you stayed quiet when you wanted to speak up. If you jumped on a metaphorical mechanical bull knowing full well you probably should not have, you are not alone.
You do not need to punish yourself to prove you learned something, you can acknowledge the mistake and still be kind to yourself, you can grow without shame, you can choose better next time without tearing yourself apart this time.
Life is messy. Growth is messy. Confidence is messy. And sometimes wisdom comes after the fall, not before it.
Now if you will excuse me, I am icing my shoulder, laughing at the video I have been told exists, and officially retiring from all rodeo related activities.
At least until the next really good night out.
Just kidding.
Probably.
