There are three words that might just be the hardest of words to say.
Three little words. Itsy bitsy, cute words.
They are: I was wrong.
How many of us can raise our hand, step forward and say, “I’ll do it. I’ll say I’m wrong.”
When I admit I’m wrong I feel sheepish. My head hangs. My eyes peek up from their hoods. The words come like children tumbling out of a secret hiding spot wiping their dirty hands on their pants.
But then the words save me.
The words themselves are a brazen act of vulnerability and like a tidal wave, they carry me over everything I feared. With them I am buoyant.
Psychology says there is “immense power in admitting you’re wrong.” so why is it so hard to do? One word: ego.
The inability to admit flaws or moments of weakness, mistakes, and downright bad behaviour is about all about self-preservation. If I don’t admit my mistake, then I won’t need to change. I don’t want to change.
Fear is a hell of a thing.
But the power (oh, the power!!!) in releasing yourself from the fruitless quest for perfectionism, because let’s face it this is an act of perfectionism, is where the magic begins.
Admitting you’re wrong builds up your fortitude. Your grit.
It evolves your character.
So, how do you do it? You do it the way I get into a lake. Don’t think. Just jump.
Every time it’ll get better, easier, and then one time it’ll be harder again.
But your character, your spirit, all all the magic inside of you will get better.
Photo Credit: Tim Marshall