When I Mess Up

A confession about restorative practice failures

This is the most vulnerable post so far. It's one thing to write about restorative practices, share frameworks and discuss success stories. It's another thing entirely to admit how often I get it wrong.

But here's what I was thinking: if I only write about the successes - the times when I remember to use "I" statements and ask affective questions - then I'm doing you a disservice. It's like those carefully crafted social media feeds where you never see the piles of dirty laundry or the kids having meltdowns. Real life is messy, and so is putting restorative practices into action.

Working in a university environment makes this even harder to admit. There's this expectation that as a professor who teaches restorative practices, I should have it all figured out. Students look to me as the expert with all the answers. Colleagues expect me to handle every conflict with grace and wisdom.

But the truth is, I mess up. A lot. And if I'm not willing to lay that bare, how can any of us really improve?

When I Fail the Worst

After reflecting on my biggest restorative practice failures, I've noticed some clear patterns in when things go sideways:

When I'm Stressed and Rushed

This is probably my biggest issue. When I'm pressed for time, worried about a deadline, or mentally juggling fifteen different things, my restorative instincts go right out the window. Just this month, a colleague wrote to me about an error he thought I made. I was at a conference, trying to catch up with the mountains of email still coming in from my job. I fired off a quick, curt email that made them feel shut down and chastised.

When my mind is elsewhere - worrying about student planning meetings or thinking about getting to a kid’s choir concert - I'm much more likely to respond quickly and mess it up.

When I Feel Slighted or Offended

The second pattern is even more embarrassing: when something activates my own sense of being wronged or disrespected. A colleague questions my approach in a meeting, or someone misinterprets something I said and reacts strongly. In those moments, I forget to stay curious and seek to understand, and I get defensive.

I can name 1000 situations where I have done this with my partner. He brings something to me about how I've handled a situation - maybe with our kids. Instead of listening to understand his perspective, I immediately started explaining why I was right. I can hear my own voice getting more defensive, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

The Email Trap

I've written before about the importance of getting off email when conflict arises, but I still fall into this trap regularly. Something about the ease of firing off a quick response makes it so tempting, especially when I'm busy. But I can't even count the number of times my "efficient" email response has been read as abrupt or dismissive, creating more conflict than if I'd just picked up the phone.

In that same recent conflict I mentioned with a colleague, had I just picked up the phone, I am positive the situation would not have gone sideways.

Mid-Conversation Failures

Sometimes I start strong - I suggest we talk face-to-face, I explain the restorative framework, I really try to listen. But then, somewhere in the middle of the conversation, things go off track.

Maybe the other person starts blaming or becomes defensive, despite my best efforts to create a safe(r) space. Maybe they seem like they're not really engaged in finding a solution together. Here, my frustration sometimes shows. I become less patient, less curious. I might even think, "Well, if they're not going to do this properly, why would I bother?"

This is particularly hard to admit because it reveals something I don't like about myself: I'm sometimes less likely to reach out to that person in future conflicts. I catch myself thinking, "They didn't really engage last time, so maybe this isn't worth the effort." I'm working on this, but it's a real struggle.

What I'm Learning

The hardest truth I've had to face is that knowing the practices doesn't automatically translate to doing it well, especially when emotions are high or stress is overwhelming my rational mind. It's like knowing how to swim in calm water versus being thrown into choppy seas - suddenly everything you know feels much harder to access.

But there is hope! Every time I mess up, I have another chance to practice actually being restorative. When I realize I've sent that defensive email or shut down a conversation, I can circle back. I can say, "I don't think I handled that well. Could we try again?" Sometimes those repair conversations end up being more meaningful than if I'd gotten it right the first time.

Giving Ourselves Grace

If you're reading this and thinking about your own failures trying to be restorative - the times you snapped at your teenager, sent that sarcastic text, or avoided a difficult conversation entirely - I want you to know that you're in good company.

Every interaction is a chance to try again. Every mess-up is data about what activates us and what we need to work on. And every repair conversation we have models for others (and ourselves!) that relationships can handle honesty about our imperfections.

So yes, I teach restorative practices. And yes, I fail at them regularly. Both of these things can be true. In fact, I'm starting to think that admitting the second truth might be just as important as the first one.

Remember that you're human. Take a breath. And then get off the mat and try again.