The Perverse Joy of Proving Yourself Wrong

One of the axioms of life is that we generally do not like to proven wrong.

Oh, we may say we do, that we're interested in learning from our experiences or really getting to truth or something else that seems to indicate that it's not such a big deal to us. But in our heart of hearts, we truly hate the feeling of being demonstrated to be wrong.

Especially in front of others.  So many of us (I include myself here) struggle with being wrong in front of someone else.  At best it makes us look...well, wrong.  At worst it makes us look uneducated, uninformed, perhaps even a bit stupid.

Our response?  More often than not, our response is to do everything we can to not be wrong.  We'll fudge facts.  We'll selectively remember conversations.  We'll even claim that we were never present when the discussion occurred - anything, anything at all to get ourselves out from under the weight of being wrong.

But I have discovered that there is one person to whom I happy to be wrong:  myself.

It seems a bit odd, doesn't it?  The idea that being proven wrong is generally something we don't like to inflict on others but I am happy to inflict on myself is something which (it seems to the analytical part of me) to be a bit counter intuitive.  Where does this come from? 

From the nature of being wrong.

With others, I can be wrong in facts or opinions or recollections and generally when I am proven to wrong, it is the sense of promoting someone else's view at the expense of my own.  Although we try not to do it, we've all been a bit guilty at times of doing a little "victory dance" when we make our point in a way that gives us a one-up on someone else.

But when I"m dealing with myself, I prove myself wrong by demonstrating I can do something I didn't think I could.

I'm finding this true more and more in my life.  I used to believe I could never publish a book.  It took me over a year to write and publish the first one.  The next one took significantly less time - 4 months.

Or running.  Never thought I could run a distance.  I did my "long" run today: 4 miles, average time of  8:23 a mile.  Better than when I ran in the 5th grade 35 years ago.

Or Highland Games.  Or Iaido. Or making cheese.  Or for that matter, keeping a blog.

What I'm finding is that many of the things I thought I couldn't do are simply things that my mind has told me that I can't do. 

And so, I find a greater and greater - yet perverse - joy in being proven wrong.  By, of all people, myself.  Instead of being the typical cover-up and justification of not being embarrassed, I am finding myself to be willing - even eager - to be found in the wrong.

Be different.  Prove yourself wrong.