Hi there,

If you’re like me, some days you’re on fire. Your brain is sharp, your words land perfectly, your work flows like magic.

Other days? You’re off. Your ideas feel flat, your execution is clunky, and your best effort feels like it barely scrapes by.

And even though no one else seems to notice, you do. And you won’t let yourself forget it.

I was once in a trial, deep in the middle of delivering my closing argument and I felt like I was on a roll, building my rhythm, making a strong case, and feeling as sharp as a tack.

And then my brain hit a wall.

I blanked. Mid-sentence. In front of the judge, opposing counsel, and my client. I forgot my client’s name.

Let me repeat that: I forgot. My client’s. Name.

I’m sure everyone thought my silence was a dramatic pause. But it was just the sound of my last brain cell clocking out.

I stood there, staring into the distance, hoping it would come back to me. I frantically scanned my notes but they may as well have been written in ancient Sanskrit.

I did the mental file search. Nothing. My client’s name, which I had said a dozen times that day, was just gone!

Thankfully, I recovered after a beat. No one in the courtroom gasped. The judge didn’t scowl. Opposing counsel didn’t even flinch. But internally, I was spiraling.

I walked out of court and immediately started dissecting it: How could I forget their name? What did that look like? Did I seem unprepared? Unprofessional? Unfit?

And yet… the world kept spinning. No one treated me any differently. I still won the case. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d come up short by own standards.

_{The Fix: Think Downward}

When we dwell on mistakes, we fall into a mental trap called counterfactual thinking. We compare reality to an alternate version where we made the perfect choice, nailed a killer execution, etc.

But there’s another way to play this game.

Instead of imagining how it could have been better, flip it. Picture how it could have been worse.

A friend who’s an accomplished chef once told me:

"Every time I overcook a steak by a few degrees, it ruins my night. The diners are happy, but I know it wasn’t perfect and I can’t let it go."

I get it. You get it.

It’s a special kind of torment reserved for high performers… the paradox being that the better you are at what you do, the harder you are on yourself when it’s not flawless.

It’s not that you failed. It’s that you didn’t hit the mark you set. And because your bar is sky-high, “good enough” can feel like falling short even when, to everyone else, it looked like a win.

We naturally fixate on upward counterfactuals, i.e. fantasies about how things could have gone better. But we ignore downward counterfactuals, i.e. how things could have gone much, much worse.

A fascinating study on Olympic athletes proves this:

Silver medalists are less happy than bronze medalists.

Why? Because silver medalists think about how close they were to gold. Bronze medalists, on the other hand, are just relieved they got a medal at all.

So, if you’re spiraling about that tiny mistake, try shifting the mental movie. Instead of thinking about how much better it could have been, consider how much worse it could have been.

You don’t have to ignore your mistakes. But you don’t have to torture yourself with them either.

Flipping to counterfactual thinking is about balance. If your brain insists on revising the past, at least give it a full spectrum of possibilities.

READER POLL

^{Final Thought}

Not every day is a gold-medal performance. Some days, you’ll just do the thing. You’ll show up, put in the effort, and get through it.

And that’s enough.

Because the middle is its own kind of success. The middle means you didn’t bomb. The middle means you did show up and contribute. The middle means you get another shot tomorrow.

And here’s the kicker: other people might not even think you were in the middle. They might think you were great. Or, more likely? They weren’t thinking about you at all.

Think about the last time you went to a coffee shop and got a latte. The barista might have thought they steamed the milk a second too long. Maybe the foam wasn’t perfect. Maybe they walked away feeling like they should have done better.

But you probably took a sip, enjoyed your drink, and went on with your day. You weren’t analyzing the foam or grading their performance. You got what you came for, and it was just fine.

So, the next time your brain starts obsessing over that small mistake, remember: You’re probably the only one who noticed. And even if someone did? They likely don’t care nearly as much as you think.

See you next week,

Shakila

P.S. Here’s the results of last week’s poll.