The surprisingly freeing joy of being bad at something
On rediscovering the joy of being a beginner again
Lately I’ve been thinking about how much pressure we put on ourselves to only do things we’re already good at. Somewhere along the way, “trying something new” stopped sounding fun and started feeling like a reputational risk. Like if you can’t perform at a certain level instantly, you shouldn’t bother.
That mindset looks harmless from the outside. It feels responsible. Mature, even. But it quietly chokes off the part of you that’s curious, playful, and willing to be surprised. And it keeps you stuck in the same narrow corners of your life.
What I’ve been noticing in myself is this instinct to avoid anything where I can’t show up as the polished version of who I used to be. The competent one. The quick learner. The person who could pick something up and immediately “get it.”
(We’ve been unpacking this in therapy.)
Burnout has a way of shrinking your world like that. Even long after the exhaustion fades, the pressure to not mess up can linger. You don’t want to see yourself fall short again, so you avoid situations where you might.
I’ve accepted that I’ve been putting pressure on myself that nobody else is even giving a second thought to. Nobody is asking me to figure it out on the first try, to be immediately good at something. It’s a self-imposed requirement that sets me up to fail.
But recently, I’ve been letting myself be bad at things again. Truly bad. And there’s something surprisingly freeing about it.
Being bad lowers the stakes
Take learning French. I have all the apps. All the books. All the good intentions. And yet: my pronunciation? Rough. My verb conjugations? In progress. My confidence? Depends on the hour. Generally low. I’m still terrified to speak French in public, but I did say one sentence in French out loud today. Please clap.
For a while, that bothered me. I felt slow. Like I was failing. Like my brain should just “try harder.”
But then I realized the moment you admit you’re bad at something, the pressure to be perfect disappears. There’s nothing to protect. No expectations to uphold. You’re just a person learning a new thing, which is one of the most human experiences you can have.
It’s honestly kind of fun.
Being bad opens the door to creativity
There’s also this unexpected creativity that shows up when you stop needing to be good right away. When you’re allowed to make mistakes, you naturally experiment more. You explore. You follow impulses without evaluating whether they’re “right.”
That messy middle is where the good stuff hides.
It’s where play comes back.
And play is a muscle you lose when everything in your life has revolved around productivity, competence, or survival.
Being bad rebuilds your trust in yourself
The more I let myself be terrible at something, the more I notice how quickly “terrible” turns into “okay,” and how “okay” eventually turns into “not bad actually.”
It’s not about the skill. It’s about proving to yourself that you can start small, stay with it, and watch the world open a little because you were brave enough to begin.
That’s the quiet part of burnout recovery no one talks about. Your life expands again through the small, low-stakes attempts.
Not through a grand reinvention, but through tiny, unimpressive experiments that remind you you’re still capable of learning and creating.
Letting yourself be a beginner again
So here’s where I’ve landed:
You don’t need confidence before you try something. Confidence shows up after you’ve tried it enough times that you stop caring how you look doing it.
Letting yourself be bad at something isn’t a failure. It’s an act of self-trust. It’s choosing curiosity over ego. It’s giving yourself permission to exist outside the narrow confines of what you already know how to do.
Honestly, it feels good to grow again, even if the growth looks awkward at first.
If you’re in a season of rebuilding, or rediscovering parts of yourself, or letting your world widen after it’s felt small for a while, maybe give yourself the gift of being bad at something. You might enjoy who you become on the other side of it.
Wonderful post!!!!
This is beautiful, Kelly. What struck me most is how you describe the quiet pressure to stay inside the boundaries of what we’re already good at. I see this so often: not because people are unwilling to grow, but because competence became part of their safety — a way to avoid the discomfort of being seen in their unfinished form.
And you’re right, the moment you allow yourself to be bad at something, the world widens again. The stakes drop. Curiosity returns. And your nervous system finally gets a space where the outcome doesn’t define your worth.
It’s often these small, clumsy beginnings that restore a person’s inner rhythm far more than any dramatic reinvention.
I’m curious:
Have you noticed whether people fear the embarrassment of being a beginner more, or the vulnerability of seeing themselves as one?