Don't drown in it. Go back.

There's a trap on the far side of owning a mistake: marinating in it. You admitted you were wrong, and now you can't put it down. You replay the moment on the drive home. You decide you're sloppy, behind, not good enough. The disgust feels like accountability, so you let it run. But beating yourself flat fixes nothing, and it usually makes the next mistake more likely, not less.

Marcus knew the pull of that and warned himself off it: "Be not disgusted, nor discouraged, nor dissatisfied, if thou dost not succeed in doing everything according to right principles; but when thou hast failed, return back again" (Meditations 5.9, Long). Return back again. Not wallow, not quit, not rewrite your whole character around one miss. You failed at a thing; you go back to the thing. That's the entire instruction.

The framer who cut the board wrong measures the next one. The cashier who shorted the till counts again. The parent who lost their patience takes a breath and starts over. None of that requires hating yourself first. The shame is not the payment for the error. The return is.