The gift of accepting mistakes

It has taken me more than a lifetime to realise that the ability to admit I am wrong is not a weakness but a strength. In a world that worships success, saying a simple “Sorry! I was mistaken” feels really strange. Yet it is precisely this act that saves relationships, repairs conversations, softens tempers keeping societies from turning into brittle silos. Ironically, it’s easy to be wrong pretty often. We misjudge, misread, misspeak and miscalculate, clinging to ideas longer than we should. We unreasonably defend our assumptions long after evidence has quietly dissipated. But because we have massive egos, we keep insisting that the world has erred, not us.

It is impossible to be human, curious or alive, without occasionally stumbling. Error is not a sign of failure, but the harbinger of learning. Yet saying “I am wrong” can be the hardest sentence whatever the language. Perhaps because it displays vulnerability, or because it exposes the gap between who we think we are and who we actually are, many of us would rather double down on a mistake than risk the embarrassment of admitting we erred. Friendships have been bruised, family dinners darkened, even conversations at the national level get polarised simply because people find it easier to argue than to accept.

What makes the ability to admit “we are wrong” so precious is that it requires humility, to open the doors that pride keeps closed. The moment we acknowledge our mistake, we eventually feel better, no longer requiring to carry the burden of defending the indefensible. The argument ends, the temperature drops, the other person softens opening to the gates to a more honest conversation, disarming conflict in a way no other gesture can. In an age where public discourse resembles a gladiatorial arena, the willingness to revise one’s own view becomes an act of civility. When someone says, “I didn’t see it that way earlier, I suppose you are right,” tempers can cool making situations more bearable.

This gift extends beyond social grace. It sharpens thinking making for robust decisions, allowing for course corrections before small misjudgments can become major crises. Businesses that encourage employees to challenge assumptions outperform those where acknowledgment of error is treated as betrayal. Governments that learn from mistakes govern better than those that pretend they make none. It is here that the wisdom of Albert Einstein rings truer than ever. “A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new.”

Even before psychology gave it modern labels, older cultures have been recognising this for centuries. In Sanskrit, an opinion is never treated as permanent but understood as something a person currently holds, not eternally possesses. There is a beautiful wisdom in this distinction, we must have the courage to realise our views can change based on circumstances. Of course, this is easier said than done, letting go of long cherished view points demands patience and self-belief. Some errors may take hours to recognise, others years, sometimes we realise we were wrong after considerable time has elapsed. But the moment of acceptance, whether immediate or delayed always brings clarity. An internal dimension corroborates this unique gift. Admitting one is wrong is akin to admitting one is still growing, a kind of gentle refusal to lock oneself into an older version of the world, bringing alongside an unexpected sense of relief, of not having to be infallible.

There is one more unexpected benefit this ability to accept brings to the table, it makes us more forgiving of other people’s errors. Once we accept that fallibility is universal, we stop treating the mistakes of people around us as personal affronts. We correct gently, listen more openly, and build better relationships. Accepting we are wrong is not just a moral virtue or an intellectual discipline. It is a practical life skill, one that strengthens conversations, reduces friction, deepens trust enriching our thinking process that we carry within. It is a gift we can give ourselves, a reminder that fallibility, once acknowledged, is not a flaw but a form of freedom.

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