Can You Make a Mistake and Miss Your Fate?

Can you really take the wrong turn so badly that you never get back on track? Can one impulsive decision, one moment of fear, one bad relationship, one missed opportunity… really rob you of the life you were meant to live?

That question used to haunt me.

I’d lie awake replaying choices like broken records—rewinding, pausing, analyzing. What if I’d stayed? What if I’d left sooner? What if I’d fought harder, been softer, stayed silent, spoken up? Was this version of my life the result of fate… or failure?

When I got injured, everything slowed down—except the noise in my head. My body was in pieces, and so was my belief that things still had time to fall into place. I looked at the wreckage around me and wondered if I had accidentally taken the wrong exit and missed the life I was supposed to live. The “normal” one. The pain-free one. The one where I ran, danced, drove without fear. The one I imagined before everything changed.

But here’s what I’ve learned on the long walk back to myself:

Fate doesn’t play by your timeline. It’s not fragile. It’s not a one-shot deal. You don’t lose it by being messy, reckless, or human. Fate is gritty. She doesn’t sit quietly waiting for you to be perfect. She shows up in your mistakes, in your detours, in your darkest hours and dares you to rise.

I’ve done things I thought disqualified me. I’ve trusted the wrong people. I’ve sabotaged good things. I’ve spiraled, stayed too long, settled too small. But somehow, life keeps unfolding with grace, even after all my missteps. I’ve learned that fate isn’t a destination you can miss. It’s a fire inside you. And if you’re brave enough to keep walking—limping, crawling, crying—it will meet you on the road.

Sometimes we think fate is about arriving at a certain job, a certain love, a certain number in the bank account. But what if fate is the becoming? What if your mistakes are the chisels sculpting you into the version of yourself strong enough to hold the life that’s coming?

What if this moment—this messy, unfiltered, real moment—is part of it?

If I never got hurt, I wouldn’t have slowed down. I wouldn’t have heard my soul whisper. I wouldn’t have found the parts of me that only rise in silence and pain. I wouldn’t have met this version of myself—the one who walks slower, but feels deeper. The one who wears sneakers and stilettos like battle armor and crown.

So no, I don’t believe you can miss your fate.

You can delay it. You can hide from it. You can fight it for years.

But fate is stubborn. She’ll find you in the ruins. She’ll dress you in grace and hand you the pen again.

Because this isn’t the end.

And maybe—just maybe—your fate needed you to fall apart, so you’d finally meet the woman who was buried underneath it all.