It’s easy to be right, in my head. It’s easy to pretend I’m more perfect than I really am; more perfect than you. It’s harder to be wrong, with grace. The measure of integrity is not how right someone is, but how they handle when they’re wrong.
We all make mistakes, including you. I know that because you’re human. Yet we’ve been scripted to hide our mistakes, deny them, and blame others for them. We’ve got this thing that mistakes are a sign of weakness and that our job is to be better than others, at least in appearance.
Yet when we refuse to see our mistakes – when we’re not open to even the possibility that we might have done wrong – we deny ourselves the chance for improvement. We’re apt to keep doing wrong and continue to create conflict and burden for others, and for ourselves.
Today marks 30 years for me without a drink. I’ve learned from Alcoholics Anonymous how to how to live right; and maybe more importantly, how to be wrong. “When we were wrong, we promptly admitted it,” says the tenth step. I’m not afraid anymore to see where I’ve been wrong, admit mistakes to myself and to others, and take steps to do better.
Sometimes I get myself in a tizzy of tension and worry, and try to find peace with a fit of self-righteousness. “I AM right!” I try to convince myself, with all the justifications and reasons churning in my head for days. Yet constantly negotiating with myself about how right I am, or not, can be exhausting. It can drive you to drink.
And then I remember that I have a magic option. I’m allowed to simply admit that I made a mistake, apologize, and do what I can to make things better. It’s magic! All the worry goes away. The burden gets released. I find peace with myself and with my fellows.
Now I’m not saying to take on more than you should. There’s no need to take responsibility for the whole mistake; for ALL that happened. Rather I search honestly to reveal MY part – the specific things that I did that contributed to the whole debacle – and take responsibility for my parts.
Just because I was wrong or did something bad, doesn’t mean I’m a bad person. I’ve learned to admit my mistakes and love myself anyway. And when I address my mistakes, I find that I’m a more lovable person.
And just because YOU did something bad, I don’t think of you as a bad person. You’re just a human who did a bad thing. No big deal. Happens all the time. I don’t throw out the relationship. I don’t refuse to talk with you. I don’t write you off. I love you anyway.
When I see wrong doing, I try to speak up. I don’t blame or shame but rather just say what I see, and maybe how it affects me. I don’t carry around a resentment. I don’t gossip to others. I say what I have to say and move on. The consequences of me speaking my truth are not my responsibility.
Doing wrong right is hugely helpful in groups. It saves my fellows tons of anxiety and worry and resentment. It demonstrates respect for others. When I do wrong right, I see myself as right-sized; not superior, no better or worse than anyone else, just prone to mistakes. Human. And when I demonstrate my humanness I inspire others to be human beings, rather than falsely inflated beings.
Now I gotta say, I don’t do wrong right all the time. Not even half the time. What I’ve written above; these are aspirations. I’m only human.
