Is There Anything Left to Do?
I make mistakes more often than I’d like. Some of it is ADHD. I’m either too focused or not focused enough, and when I’m rushing, that’s when things slip.
Not long ago I had an important report due at work. I was pressed for time. I filled it out, had someone look it over, and sent it in before the deadline. Late that night, after 11, I realized the description had the wrong time in it. I also found out I’d sent the first version from someone else’s email account without noticing I was logged into it. So I fixed the report and sent it again.
It was fixed. But I didn’t let it go.
I kept replaying it. I kept thinking about how it looked. I worried that even with all the good things I do, people would start to see me as incompetent, and that if it kept happening, I could lose my job. Honestly, it was more than a little embarrassing.
Conviction and rumination aren’t the same thing
Somewhere in thinking this through, I got hold of a distinction that’s helped me.
Conviction is specific. It says, “That was wrong. Fix it.” Then you fix it, and it’s done.
Rumination loops. It doesn’t produce anything new. It just keeps treating something that’s already over like it’s still happening.
By the time I was lying there replaying that report, the conviction part was finished. I’d already corrected it and resent it. Everything after that was rumination. My mind was acting like thinking about it more would somehow make things safer. It doesn’t.
The question
So now, when I catch myself replaying something, I try to ask one question:
Is there anything left for me to do?
If there is, I do it. If there isn’t, I try to say it plainly: “There’s nothing left to do here.” Then I get up and do something else, even something small. It doesn’t shut the thought off right away. But it breaks the idea that more worrying equals more responsibility.
What Scripture says about it
Romans 8:1 says, “There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus.” That word matters. Conviction says, “That was wrong, fix it.” Condemnation says, “You’re the kind of person who does this.” God gives us the first one. He doesn’t hand us the second.
Lamentations 3:22–23 says His compassions fail not and are new every morning. Not new once I’ve felt bad enough. New every morning.
And Sirach 10 is one I keep coming back to:
“My son, glorify thy soul in meekness, and give it honour according to the dignity thereof. Who will justify him that sinneth against his own soul? and who will honour him that dishonoureth his own life?”
Sirach 10:28–29
Sirach is part of the Ethiopian Orthodox Bible.
That hit me, because I have a habit of exaggerated self-condemnation. I do that a lot. I used to think beating myself up was a kind of humility. It isn’t. Tearing myself down isn’t more humble than seeing myself accurately. It’s just less true.
An honest version of that night sounds like this: I made a mistake under time pressure. I caught it. I fixed it. I’m putting some habits in place so it happens less.
Not: I’m unreliable.
What I’m doing differently
A few practical things I’m trying:
- A short pause before sending anything important. Stand up, come back, read it once more.
- Reading the key details out loud. My brain fills in what it expects when I read silently.
- Checking which account I’m sending from, every time.
- A short checklist for reports, even when I’m in a hurry. Especially when I’m in a hurry.
I’m still working on all of this. But I’m learning that once I’ve done what I can, I’m allowed to put it down.