The Night I Scared Myself

The headlights appeared before the realization did. Two bright orbs aimed straight at me on a dark, unfamiliar two-lane country road, and my stomach plummeted as my mind tried to make sense of it.

"He's in my lane!" 

I flashed my lights. The car moved over. And with a deep sigh, I kept driving.

But a few minutes later, a scary fact hit me harder than the original fear.
 
I was the one in the wrong lane.

In fact, I shouldn't have been in either of them. As it turned out I had missed the crossover on a divided country road. There wasn’t just two lanes, there were four! Maybe it was the darkness, maybe fatigue, or maybe the simple fact that there were no signs marking the median and no other cars around at the time to give me a visual cue at night.

Instantly, I found a safe place to cross over. I thank Jesus I made it home that night.

But my mind did not follow me. Instead, it stayed on that country road replaying the worst angles of the moment: the fear, the mistake, the blaming internal voice saying, "how could I miss that?" It did not replay the part where I stayed calm, the moment I corrected course, or that everyone got home safely.

Reflecting now, it is wild how quickly we forget our competence and cling to our errors as if they are proof of something.

And this does not just happen on the road. We do this in every corner of our lives. Below are some examples:

• You botch a project’s first draft but rework it and deliver something stronger. (your brain jabs, "you should’ve done better the first time”) 

• You lock yourself out of the house but remember the spare key you hid months ago. (your brain jabs, “you weren’t paying attention”) 

• Your foot slips on a stair yet you catch the railing before you go down. (your brain jabs, “you’re so clumsy”) 

• Your wallet stays behind in your desk at lunch then you realize your digital ID can save the day. (your brain jabs, “you always forget things”) 

• You trip in public and turn it into accidental choreography that makes people smile. (your brain jabs, “you can be so embarrassing”) 

These very human moments can feel like failures in the instant they happen. But each one also contains a success that matters more. Mistakes are not proof of incompetence. They are proof that you are human and capable of adjusting in real time.

And if a mistake is a moment, then your response is the story. And most of us are telling better stories than we realize!

So instead of falling into the “How could I do that,” blame game, try asking:

• What did I do well under stress?
• What helped me recover?
• What does this show about my ability to stay present?
• What strength showed up, even quietly?

I made a mistake, and yes, it was a serious one. But I saw it, corrected it, and got home. That was not failure. That was presence under pressure.

If a mistake is the spark, failure is letting the fire spread. Success is stamping out the flames. Both are possible conclusions, but our brains fixate on the error instead of the outcome. So the next time something goes wrong but you recover, watch for the cruel brain jabs and notice not just the slip, but the steadiness that followed. 

That is a part worth remembering.