Loading blog content, please wait...
By OK Tease Co.
The Yes You Wanted That Turned Out to Be the Wrong Thing You wanted it. That's the part nobody talks about. You didn't stumble into it or get talked int...
You wanted it. That's the part nobody talks about. You didn't stumble into it or get talked into it. You prayed on it, you wanted it so badly your whole body leaned toward it, and it came. The yes came. And then, somewhere down the road, you're standing in the middle of the thing you asked for and it doesn't fit. It was the wrong door. And you're the one who wanted it open.
That's a specific kind of hard. Not the disappointment of a no. The confusion of a yes that went sideways. Because now you can't even be mad at the sky. You're the one who chose it.
Here is the trap. When you don't get something, you can hand it off. Bad timing, not meant to be, God closed the door. Clean. But when you get exactly what you were reaching for and it turns out to be a mistake, there's no one to hand it to. So you turn on yourself. You start replaying every step, hunting for the moment you should have known better.
Stop hunting. You are not being punished for wanting good things. Wanting is not the crime. You made a call with the version of you that existed at the time, and she did the best she could with what she could see. She wasn't foolish. She was hopeful. There's a difference, and you owe her the grace of knowing it.
Women carry this heavier than we should. We keep going as moms, as daughters, as sisters, the whole time, and we don't get the option to step back and lick our wounds when a decision goes wrong. So the second-guessing rides along in the background while you're still packing lunches, still showing up, still getting everyone where they need to be. You don't get to pause life to grieve a choice. You just carry it and keep moving. Saying that out loud matters. It's not weakness that it's heavy. It's heavy because you're carrying it and still functioning.
This is where faith gets real, and I mean the un-tidy version. Not the one where everything works out neatly and you look back and go, oh, now I see the whole plan. Sometimes you don't see it. Sometimes the yes that turned wrong just sits there looking like a waste, and you cannot connect a single dot, and someone tells you to trust the process and you want to scream because the process feels rigged.
I still believe it anyway. Not because it makes sense in the moment. Because I've walked through enough seasons to know the reason usually shows up late, way after I stopped waiting for it. Trusting God's process even when it seems unfair is not pretending it's fair. It's keeping your feet moving while you cannot see the reason yet. That's the whole thing. You keep going, not because the fog cleared, but because you decided the fog doesn't get to stop you.
The wrong yes taught you something the right one never could have. It showed you what you actually want by letting you feel what you don't. It showed you your own bounce. And that education is not a punishment. It's the exact thing that makes the next call sharper.
Here's what I've come to believe about a decision that didn't pan out. It's not a hole you fell into. It's a road you're already on. You can't un-walk it, so the only real question is which direction you point from here. And you are so much more capable of the pivot than you feel right now.
The move that got you into the wrong thing is the same muscle that gets you out of it. You chose once. You can choose again. That capacity to decide, to want, to reach, it didn't break when the outcome disappointed you. It's still yours. You're not starting from zero. You're starting from experienced, which is a much better place to start than you're giving yourself credit for.
And your kids are watching this part, whether you feel ready for them to or not. They're not learning from a mom who chose perfectly. There's no such mom. They're learning from the one who chose, saw it wasn't right, and turned the ship without falling apart in front of them. That is the lesson. You could not teach it with words if you tried. You can only teach it by doing it while they watch, and right now, in this exact hard stretch, you're teaching it.
If the weight of a wrong turn is sitting on your chest in a way that isn't lifting, please talk to someone who's trained to help you carry it. That's not failure either. That's the same wisdom that made you brave enough to choose in the first place. General support and encouragement matters, and so does knowing when to reach for real help. The 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline is there any time you need a human on the other end.
There's a graphic we make that just says BAWSE, and I think about what that word actually means on a day like the one you might be having. It doesn't mean you got everything right. A woman running her own life is not one who never made a wrong call. She's the one who owns the call, learns the lesson, and keeps building. That's the whole meaning underneath it. When you put it on, you're not claiming perfection. You're claiming that you're still here, still deciding, still moving forward.
The wrong yes doesn't erase the strong woman who made it. It reveals her. Now go make the next call. You know more than you did.
You've got this.