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.

How Personal Growth Stories Inspire Us to Be Present & Mindful

My grandfather, Julio Cesar Cardona Sr., was a strong and introspective man…

who taught me lessons about resilience and mindfulness in everyday life. He was also hard on his children. By the time I came along, he was still stern. He left for work early, came home to his room, joined dinner only to speak when necessary, and then retreated upstairs (google “lessons from family trauma”).

At four years old, I was convinced he was in his room being a vampire. Then he had a stroke. Something shifted. He cracked jokes. He spent more time with family. He laughed occasionally and lingered longer at the table. His story reminds me every day of why being present and mindful matters.

It was after he passed that I decided to let my hair grow as a way to honor him. I miss our talks.

Life is so Precious

My mother is a charming, independent, brilliant woman…

who embodies personal growth stories and courage. She escaped an abusive home as a teenager and carved her own path, raising her siblings, buying a house, and building her own business. Her journey is one of the most inspiring family stories about resilience I’ve ever known. Years later her husband, my bonus father, faced a serious health scare. At the most frightening moment this do-it-herself woman told my sister “I don’t know what I would do without him.” That moment taught me about appreciating life’s fragility and about how to live fully every day.

Life is so Precious.

My biological father is a headstrong man and one of the most reliable hard workers I know…

who once managed a nightclub in Florida. One night a man was stabbed. My father held him, trying to stop the bleeding, but the man died in his arms. When he told me the next day his eyes carried a grief I had never seen before.

Life is so Precious.

So why do we wait to wake up?

Why does it take a stroke, a stabbing, or a sudden loss to feel alive and connected? Why do we need natural disasters or celebrity deaths to remind us to hug harder, laugh louder, and truly notice the little moments?

Traffic feels selfish until the ambulance siren wails and suddenly everyone cooperates to make room.

The next person who enters the room carries an entire lifetime of experiences. Can we pause and notice them? Not judge, fix, or compare. Just appreciate the miracle of their being and the beauty of life’s fragility.

We are all like that image above, an egg holding up books. Both delicate and strong at the same time.

Whether each moment cracks or holds steady, life is precious.

I Paid for Belonging in Bruises.

A lesson in growth, mindset, and the quiet clarity of mindfulness.

For most of my life, I paid the price of belonging in bruises—emotional, spiritual, and sometimes physical. I didn’t know I was chasing something I already had. I spent 30 years seeking insight out there in the world.

There were clues. My mom used to sing a lyric from Frankie Beverly & Maze:

“If you get confused, don’t you go nowhere else. You’re gonna find all that you need, right there in yourself.”

But like many of us, I missed the clue. I joined every “tribe” I could find and tried on every mask:
• Floridian
• Spanish
• Black
• Mixed
• Skateboarder
• Gangbanger
• Musician
• Drinker
• Angeleno
• Atheist
• Actor
• Buddhist
• Boyfriend (times 100)
• [Insert next persona here]

Funny thing — the word persona is Latin for “mask.”
And “clue”? That word traces back to clew, a Greek word for “thread.”

But I didn’t tug at the thread.
Until I was forced to sit still.

After an incident left me unable to walk, I couldn’t perform any of the roles. I couldn’t chase anything. I was stuck. Pinocchio in the belly of the whale.

That’s when I found meditation. That’s when I stopped searching outside and turned inward.

Suddenly, the masks began to loosen.
I started to notice the stories in my mind — how they looped and lied, how they controlled me.

And with that awareness … came space.

Space between me and shame.
Space between me and fear.
Space between me and who I thought I had to be.

That’s what mindfulness gave me:
The clarity to realize that insight was never “out there.” It was inside. Always had been.

Here’s a wild fact:
In a world where we can Zoom anyone, stream anything, and get same-day delivery…
Only 47% of Americans say they’re “very satisfied” with their personal lives.

Why?
Because satisfaction doesn’t come from optimization.
It comes from observation.
It comes from looking inward.

So I started sitting with my anger — and found fear underneath.
Then I sat with the fear — and found curiosity.
That curiosity changed everything.

Suddenly, the world wasn’t a threat.
It was a playground.
I wasn’t sinking — I was surfing.
I wasn’t lost — I was listening.

One day in the park, I heard that song again:

“You’re gonna find all that you need, right there in yourself.”

That lyric used to sound like comfort. Now it sounds like a mission.

Who am I now? I am peaceful.

So here’s the challenge I’ll leave with you:
You’re standing on the whale, fishing for minnows.
Your angers? Trace them back to fears.
Your fears? Trace them back to questions.
Then use those questions to start growing.

“There is grandeur in this view of life.” — Charles Darwin
“When we stop, things don’t go right.” — Pope Francis
“Each of us has that right, that possibility, to invent ourselves daily.” — Maya Angelou

This is Growth Mindset.
This is Mindfulness.
This is Growth Mindfulness.

This is you, tugging the thread.