Being Wrong Sucks

Sometimes I am wrong. My knee jerk reaction is always to find proof that I was not wrong. And if that doesn’t pan out I start tossing out excuses at lightening bolt speed. Most of these excuses involve somehow blaming the other person or some irrelevant situation or circumstance. I do not like to be wrong. It irks me even more when someone is simply trying to prove that I was wrong, sort of like a finger pointing witch-hunt, which is what happened today. While I was wrong, the person pointing out what was wrong needed the satisfaction of being right. God I hate that!

I started responding immediately to what I felt was an inaccurate accusation. I am never wrong. (Yeah, I know…never say never.) Then I stopped myself dead in my tracks. What if I was wrong? I was about to dig myself into a deeper hole if I was indeed wrong. And even if I wasn’t wrong, was what I was poised to spit back really necessary? (In that moment, in my little pea brain it sure as hell was.) I remembered one of my yoga teachers sharing something one of her teachers often says. It goes something like this: Before you speak ask yourself three questions. Is it necessary? Is it truthful? Is it kind? I silently began cursing under my breath as I realized I was answering no to two of the three questions. While I paused to think things over I started fuming. I was awash with emotions. I did a little research and realized that I was indeed in the wrong, more anger bubbling up like molten lava. Only this time it was at myself. I was mad at myself for being wrong. I was mad that of all the people who had to point it out it was this person in particular. I was also mad that I was choosing not to revert back to my old habit of taking my anger out on the other person. Now I was stuck feeling my icky, gross feelings of inadequacy, frustration, and anger.

While I am still smoldering a little on the inside I am also very proud of myself. I did not lash out at the other person. I simply fixed my mistake and apologized. I allowed myself to take a step back and acknowledge that my old broken record response would have been of no help in this situation. I was able to stop myself, assess the situation, and behave differently. The satisfaction of lashing out was not there, but there will also be no repercussions to how I reacted. Man does it suck to be wrong and nice all at the same time.

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About djunapassman

I teach yoga, write, and edit. I live in a Brooklyn neighborhood that is changing faster than I can, or care to, keep up with. Manhattan still beckons me to her island a few subways stops away, reminding me of when I lived amongst her daily hustle and bustle.
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