Okay, so I know, I've never been known to be wrong...ever.
Until a few weeks ago. Hmmm...Don't you love when that happens?
It is interesting how much we see the world through our own perspective and judgements and biases. We take a few things that we see, put together what we think, throw in a whole lot of assumptions, and bam! Pretty soon we're telling people the way things are. As if we know the reason why someone didn't talk to us or why certain people stopped dating or why life is the way it is.
And the more we tell ourselves, the more it becomes our reality. We convince ourselves that we "know" because of our list of fifty seven reasons we have compiled.
Let's just say, I've been known to do it more than once.
Maybe it's my need to make sense of the universe or trying to answer the WHYs in my life that just don't have any explanation begins to satiate my desire to understand.
The most refreshing thing about September was the chance to be wrong, and then wrong, and then wrong again about the things I thought I "knew." To find out that some people are a lot kinder and nobler and genuinely better than I gave them credit for. To forgive. To find out the real truth. To discover that some of the reasons I was hurt by people were not quite as personal as I had assumed. And even to find out that sometimes I am just flat out wrong.
For a person who hates to be wrong, I'd say it's never felt so good.
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