I Was Wrong, and Mindfulness Helped Me See It
At 35 years old, here’s some stuff I’ve been wrong about:
Spicy food ruins the taste
2Pac is still alive
The guitar intro to Jimi Hendrix’s “Little Wing” says my name (I was 17, give me a break)
My high school friends will be my best friends forever
Science and spirituality don’t mix
I’m not Black enough
I’m not Spanish enough
I can do everything all by myself
Alcohol makes life easier
No one loves me
I am destined to be alone
But the biggest one?
Saying “I was wrong” will destroy me.
That it’ll embarrass me, undo all I’ve said in the past, making people think I know nothing. Then what will I have?
I’m not the only one.
Open your social media feed, check the comments.
The most popular threads? Fights.
Try this: every time you see “You’re right, I was wrong,” eat chocolate.
Eat the whole thing, might be a while until you find another.
Why?
Embarrassment is a deep bruise. Shame, a broken rib. Feeling both in front of a group of people? Thats a full body cast.
My podcast, “Beauty in the Break” , has an episode called How to Say “I Was Wrong” (And Why It Feels So Damn Good)
And. It. Does.
Here’s why:
Not admitting fault is rigid, ego-driven.
Most of the time everyone knows you’re wrong. They’re just too tired to call you out.
Saying “I’m always right” is Latin for “I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, but I’m trying to convince myself I do, send help.”
Rigid is the oak tree that topples during hurricane season.
But saying “Ya know? I was wrong about that, I’m sorry” is the palm tree that sheds a frond, but stays rooted. Ready for the next season.
My favorite place to say I was wrong?
To my partner, Foster, and to our kids. As a child who didn’t hear anyone admit fault until I was 10 years old (love to my bonus father, Darron), I take pride in sitting with them, sharing what my intentions were, where I was wrong, and how I plan to make it right.
And here’s the deeper lesson I keep learning:
You are not your thoughts. Full Stop.
Through practicing mindfulness, I’ve discovered how to separate who I truly am from the stories my mind tells me. The stories of shame, fear, and rigid pride. Mindfulness gives me space to observe my thoughts without being overwhelmed, to choose softness over ego, and to admit when I’m wrong without falling apart. This simple, daily practice has been a lifeline for my mental health and emotional resilience. It’s proof that awareness can transform even the most painful moments into opportunities for connection and growth.
The takeaway? Find the person(s) who give you a safe space to practice being wrong. After that, take it into the world.
Then give yourself a piece of chocolate.
