Wrong

     At times, I take great comfort in my capacity to be wrong.  My daughter regularly counted on that quality when she was growing up.  Often, my first answer to a request for permission on one thing or another was instinctively "no".  Mothers are protective of their little ones and wary of potential dangers in all things "fun".  But my daughter learned that if she kept trying, that "no" might eventually swing around to a reluctant "yes".  All children try this tactic, and many a parent has been worn down by a persistent plea.  If she had gone the usual route, however, I doubt she would have had much success.  Repetition, begging or whining would have broken on an unyielding wall of stubbornness and only strengthened my resolve.  But calm, reasoned arguments would always find a way in, and she could be very good at that.

     Often, the fears that prompted a negative response could be eased with logical counterarguments, and the simple demonstration that she could anticipate problems and work out solutions was comforting as well.  She learned to approach my resistance with maturity, to keep her parents informed, and to win freedoms within the framework of her role.  Our other children learned similar, that offering facts and logic would get them closer to their goals than emotional outbursts.  Although there were still times when parental experience and wisdom trumped youthful logic, and the "no" stayed firm, there were plenty of times when their reason could prove an initial assumption wrong.  All that practice at formulating and presenting a cogent argument probably served them well in school, and after school the skills should be useful as well.  Those times when they put forth a carefully planned case and still encountered a "no" were probably good practice for life, too.

     On my side of it, being open to being proven wrong has been good for my outlook.  Human beings learn to look ahead as a matter of safety.  We learn that forethought can save us trouble, conflict and pain.  We play devil's advocate and look for holes in a plan to avoid nasty surprises later on.  Having a fairly heavy share of instability in my life and an active imagination, this natural tendency has grown strong in me.  I always seem to be performing these checks in the background of my mind.  Though I don't live a fearful life, I am aware of the whole web of possibilities that might spring out of the current circumstances, and I'm constantly factoring the probable outcomes of each change.  When I anticipate a strong possibility of trouble ahead, I become anxious and start planning my responses.  This is especially true when I feel I have little power to veer from the current course.  In times like these, I reach for all those memories of times when I was wrong about certain doom (in all grades of impact.)  If things look bleak, despair won't help matters.  I am comforted by the knowledge that I can be wrong.  I'm actually fairly good at it.

     Of course, you can't avoid trouble by pretending it doesn't exist.  I still make my plans for coping when problems flare, but there's an extra front to the battle.  If it looks like trouble is inevitable, fighting those negative expectations becomes particularly important.  Strange as it may seem, hoping you are wrong can be a positive thought.

     Often, the success of an endeavor hinges on your willingness to accept that you may be wrong.  If you approach with trepidation and an expectation of failure, however likely you believe that scenario to be, you can doom it with your negativity.  If you make an effort to believe in your impossible success, your tiny percentage chance of that possibility rises.  It's not an easy thing to do, but when you find yourself in circumstances you can't control, it's the best of your options.  Be prepared to pick yourself up if you fall, but in the meantime, have faith in your ability to be wrong.