Nothing Wrong with Being Wrong
Why our ego is the enemy of love and fulfillment.
I am firm believer that there is one statement, or variation thereof, that is the hardest for people to say:
“I was wrong.”
It’s been studied over and over again how disruptive the ego can be to self-energy and true connection with other people, or even our romantic relationships, career trajectories, and public perceptions. Yet, it seems near impossible for people to say those words. Sometimes, admitting being wrong can be the difference of keeping someone in your life. Other times, and I personally think the more troubling times, are when we won’t say it to ourselves.
I think about how many heartbreaks I could’ve saved others or myself if I had simply admitted early on that a relationship, friendship, job, or program wasn’t the right thing for me. My ego, or self avoidance, would not allow it. I think about how many heartbreaks others could’ve saved me or themselves if they simply admitted early on that a relationship, friendship, job, or program wasn’t the right thing for us. Their egos, or personal avoidance, would not allow it. In every situation I can think of that did not work, so much hurt could’ve been avoided with those three little words.
My most recent relationship is a good example of this. I knew it wasn’t working early on. I did fall for him, and despite his glaring dismissive avoidance and dissociations and outright refusal to therapize his issues, I stuck with it. And, despite his issues being kindling for some of my worst qualities setting aflame, I stuck with it even with my lack of physical and emotional satisfaction. I couldn’t be wrong. What would people think. I had to make this work. Dozens of (my) therapy sessions and aggravating talks with friends (read: they were aggravated I didn’t dump the guy) later convinced me that I deserved more than that and it was okay to let it all go. Yet, my ego, my insecurity, my fear of perception, stopped me from ending it. Saying “I was wrong” about us couldn’t come out even in the most frustratingly mood swingy anxiety ridden conversations (read: his moods and anxiety) and I went into coddle and cajole mode (read: hello, C-PTSD). I was fucking miserable. But, ya know, at least I didn’t have to admit I was wrong.
In the end, in the one act of bravery I ever saw from him, he ended the relationship, and while devastated and my friends had to console me (through gritted teeth), I was somewhat relieved. And, was later grateful because our whole relationship was a tough lesson in how I had treated someone I truly loved. Even though I was almost immediately happier and even came down on my own anxiety meds when he was gone — I had the trauma that only a dismissive avoidant could dole out — it still took me too long to admit, “Yeah, I was wrong, he’s a mess, and I became one around him, too.” A little sad, sure. I’m not a sociopath. But I finally felt strength in admitting the wrong.
Escaping that relationship aside, as I mentioned there are so many other areas of life that the simple words “I was wrong” could save so many so much heartache yet we still don’t do it. Even those of us who spend HOURS a month on self-improvement and growth. Why is that ego, that self-esteem fragility, so damn powerful? I don’t know, ask my therapist.
I recently did the opposite with an entirely different situation — my career. For years I had poured so much fuel into climbing a ladder that was wrought with lots of older, heteronormative men with their boots ready to kick me down, often snapping me right in the soft impostor syndrome portion of my shoulder, and knocking me down a few rungs. Nevertheless, I persisted (I actually hate that statement). I got close to where I thought I wanted to go despite the kicking and other headwinds, but then realized: “Fuck. This is not what I want at all.”
It took me about two months to fully accept that I was unhappy and that I had taken my previous work life for granted because I didn’t want to be wrong. What would people think? Would people assume I failed, despite being quite good at the job? Would people think I got in over my head? Would I ever get another job again?
One day I woke up and thought, in true Danny Glover style, “I’m too old for this shit,” and by shit, I meant holding myself back out of fear of perception. I made a plan. I actioned that plan. I freed myself. I took that internal self flagellation and turned into a lesson for others that it’s okay to admit that you are wrong and to hell what other people say. Did I get any backlash? NO. I received so much support from my former employer, who I still revere, and my work community, for being true to myself and rooting in integrity. While I’m glad, did I care if I was supported when making the decision? NO. And that is the beauty of getting comfortable saying that you were wrong and having the resilience to believe in yourself.
In the end, if we can be humble, if we can be painstakingly honest with ourselves and others, we can save so many oodles of hurt. This writer still has a lot to learn on this topic and hopes she can someday set an example that is the opposite of what she set with her now almost laughable relationship. That she can make up for past hurts she caused when not wanting to be wrong. But you, you dear reader, I know you have it in you to go out there, take control of the things that no longer serve you, cast off the ego, and bring yourself to your own happy, in a way that only you can do. And, sometimes the only way to do that is to admit you were wrong.
