Admitting When You Are Wrong

I have always been remarkably stubborn, all my life. This is why I now look back at parts of my life and completely scratch my head. I knew that everything had to be one way and one way only, I didn’t give up easy and when I knew I was right that was it. I still struggle occasionally trying to make sense of the times that I let that stubbornness go, I only now see that I was still being stubborn it just wasn’t in the way I should have been.

 As I head to a new journey in my life that unlike before I am actually right! The last time I began a journey as a wife I was wrong, all wrong but I could never admit it, nor could I let the naysayers win, ever. I was determined to make a “perfect” life no matter what because unlike before I wasn’t going to admit defeat. I was “right” for almost 10 years; I didn’t give in no matter what. It wasn’t until one night that I realized something had to give. I needed to admit that I was wrong, because indeed I was. I was wrong about a lot, accepting apologies, putting on a smile, saying it would be ok, not deserving better and most of all believing lies. 

The words “it will never happen again” seem sincere enough and perhaps at the time they are but in my case, as so many others it just isn’t true. So those words rang through my head one night as I held my son in our living room. The officer had to repeat himself before my already tear swollen face welled up again, trying to hold back more, “Has this happened before?” still trying to process the situation and all that had happened I managed to utter “yes”. The officer shook his head, “What are you waiting for, him to kill you?” I managed to answer “No” and the officer replied “You got lucky tonight, end of story. What about your son?” Shaking and crying I admit I need help, I have no one and don’t know what to do. As much as I had resisted it was time to admit that I was wrong. I believed in someone who stole my trust, daily.