The other day I tried something new: making fresh Spring rolls. 

You know, those see-through mini burritos you find on the appetizer list at Asian places.

I was inspired to make them after having some that were truly delightful. The chopped veggies and taste of mint were the perfect first bite after a couple sweaty days of backpacking and freeze-dried meals.

I was ready. Veggies prepped, tofu pressed, herbs on hand.

But that last step of actually making the rolls was the hardest. 

I was worried about creating limp piles of mush that were a little too phallic for my taste. What if they didn’t turn out right?!

We forget it’s okay to be bad at things.

It was very likely that this worst-case scenario would come true. How could I create restaurant-rivaling rolls my first time? 

Yet our high-achieving minds don’t like the idea of being bad. They push us to look for what we’re good at and invest there.

You and I can get over things like Spring rolls, where the stakes are low. But it’s generally harder for us to accept being bad at things we think we should have mastered. Whether that’s building a new sleep habit or living alone for the first time, you might still be objectively bad at activities that are more significant. 

It’s still okay.

As it turned out, my rolls weren’t bad. Pretty tasty with a good helping of peanut sauce. 

But the point isn’t that you might be good after all. It’s that being bad–at the start or forever in some cases–is just fine too.

To being better without perfectly pressed Spring rolls,