I WAS COACHING an executive couple on their communication skills. The husband had just, for the fourth time, interrupted and corrected a story his wife was trying to tell. She had tried to be patient, but finally she became hurt and exasperated.
“Maybe I need to let you tell the story,” she said. “I can’t even finish a thought about this and I’m not having fun right now.”
I stopped the process and said to the husband, “Are you aware that she’s right? You’ve corrected the story several times, and honestly, I’m feeling pretty sorry for her right now.”
He objected: “I was just trying to correct some of the factual inaccuracies in her story — you know, dates, places, people. Those things are — ”
“Hold it right there,” I said, interrupting on purpose. “This is a major reason you guys need coaching. Put the factual inaccuracies on the back burner. They are not important now and probably never will be.”
“But I was just trying to help her — ”
“With all due respect, hold it right there again,” I said. “Look at your wife’s face. What is she feeling?”
He looked at her. “Hurt and sad.”
“Yes, hurt and sad,” I said. “And pretty withdrawn, too.” I turned to her: “Is that how you’re feeling?”
“Yes,” she said.
I turned back to him: “When you’ve hurt someone’s feelings, the last thing you should do is explain why you did it, as if that makes it better. I mean that literally; it’s the last thing you should do. Which means that at some point it might be helpful, but not now.”
“What’s the first thing?” he said, more engaged now.
“Say you were wrong.”
“But I was just — ”
I interrupted him again. “Seriously, don’t go there. No more ‘I was just’ anything. If you want a real connection with your wife, do not say this.”
“But — ”
I sat forward in my chair so that our faces were close. “Just say you were wrong,” I said. “Look at her and say you were wrong. And mean it.”
I don’t usually have to be this forceful, but I knew there was a lot at stake in this relationship.
He went silent. I could see the frustration growing on his face. I knew from talking to his wife, his kids, his employees — and I had now confirmed in the office — that this man had not often said those words.
Slowly he turned to his wife. She looked back at him, waiting quietly. “Honey,” he said slowly, “I was wrong, I’m sorry.”
She didn’t do cartwheels; in fact, she pushed back a bit. “About what?” she asked.
“About that thing I do.”
“What thing?” She wasn’t twisting the knife. She recognized this moment as a critical juncture in their relationship and wanted clarity.
“That interrupting thing.”
“You really think you did something wrong?”
“Well, I was just trying to — ”
It was my turn. “Nope, stick with it.”
He was really becoming frustrated.
“Maybe it will help,” I added, “if she tells you how your interrupting makes her feel.” I turned to her. “Can you do that?”
She said, “Like we’re not a team, and I’m an idiot who can’t get anything right.” Her eyes moistened as she became more vulnerable.
He softened when he saw her hurt. “Honey, I had no idea you felt this way. You’re my everything and my teammate, and a really competent person I respect.”
His words seemed to comfort her, at least a bit.
“So now,” I directed him, “answer her question.”
“Yes. I really do think I did something wrong. I took control of the conversation and it was dismissive and rude. And I do it a lot with you. I’m sorry. I don’t want to ever do that again.”
Again, she didn’t turn cartwheels. But I could see her feeling closer to him, with a tad more hope.
Long story short, he was a man of his word, and he learned the habit of letting her tell her stories in her way. But that wasn’t the big aha for him. It was learning how difficult it was — like pulling teeth — for him to admit he was wrong. That process took us a great deal more work, using the skills and principles outlined in this chapter. Learning that part was much more transformational in helping him obtain the marriage, the family, and the business that he truly wanted.
The Power of Confession
What’s the big deal about saying, “I was wrong”? It certainly was a big deal for my client. But his discomfort isn’t nearly as important as the benefits that come from it.
I have noticed a pattern in my work with people, a sharp contrast between successful individuals and those who stay stuck in life. It’s an inverse relationship: Successful people point to their failures, while failing individuals point to their successes. While there are certainly exceptions to the rule, the pattern is that the mega-achievers have no problem bringing up their massive screw-ups — in fact, they seem to enjoy it. I think their character is integrated, with lots of ambition, but with little shame and self-judgment. I had one high-performing leader tell me about a deal in which he’d made millions, and then he finished the story with, “And I found out later that the other side negotiated better than I did, and I could have done twice as well. But, oh well.” He didn’t seem embarrassed at all, nor did he speak as if he had an image to protect.
By contrast, with the second group, you can go through all sorts of contortions in a conversation with them, and it’s like trying to wrestle down a greased pig to get them to admit fault. They will describe how they were cheated, or how circumstances worked against them, or how bad the timing was.
This inverse relationship is no coincidence. The successful try things, make mistakes, look their mistakes in the eye, learn, and try again at a more informed and educated level. In this way, they’re likely to achieve even greater success over time. And the failures feel helpless, victimized, and unlucky. Sadly, they’re doomed to repeat their pasts over again — until they learn the value of “I was wrong,” followed by no buts.
When to Say, “I Was Wrong”
Life gives us multiple opportunities to practice saying, “I was wrong.” For instance, you could say, “I was wrong when I . . .
• didn’t finish school and decided to play harder instead.”
• slacked off at work and lost my job.”
• made my marriage about me and not about serving my mate.”
• thought I could live like I was nineteen when I was thirty-six.”
• didn’t stand up for myself in a terrible relationship.”
• rescued and enabled my adult kid and drained myself.”
None of these are fun things to say; instead, they’re all great things to say. These statements will get you somewhere, and you’ll see why in this chapter.
Ultimately, it’s about confession. Basically, the statement “I was wrong” is a kind of confession, or an agreement that something unpleasant is true. We need to confess things all the time: I must confess that I didn’t answer the email soon enough. I have to confess that I overspent on the credit card. I need to confess that I haven’t been the person I should be. I should confess that I robbed the bank.
(Okay, just kidding on that last one.)
You are simply saying, “Yes, I did it.” It’s not a pleasant or enjoyable thing to say. I say it all the time to my family, friends, and business associates, and it never feels fun. But “I was wrong” has unbelievable power to cure entitlement and to give you a launch into a great life. Let’s consider the amazing benefits of “I was wrong.”
You Can Fix What You Confess
And on the flip side, you can never fix what you don’t confess.
If a company asks me to consult with them, the first thing I do is spend a day with the management team. I interview people, look at reports and financials, and observe how they interact in a team meeting. At the end of the day, I give them a diagnosis: “Great organization, but you need more targeted marketing,” or “more seamless systems,” or “a healthier culture.” If they agree, they are confessing that something is wrong and needs improvement. In that case, we are on our way to making things better. But if they say, “My department isn’t the problem — it’s the other guys,” and the other guys say the same thing, we have nowhere to go and nothing we can fix.
It is the same thing in relationships. When neither side “owns their stuff,” be it selfishness, withdrawal of love, control, judgmentalism, deception, or irresponsibility, the couple simply has nowhere to go and nothing they can fix. That is why, when I work with couples, I spend a lot of early time having people discover and take ownership of their own contributions to the connection problems. It’s hardly ever 50 – 50, and sometimes it’s 90 – 10. But I’ve yet to see a totally innocent partner in a relationship problem.
One of my rules is, “If you’re spending more energy focused on the issues of your partner than on your own, even if the person is an addict or a felon, you’re never going to be happy or healthy.” Why not? Because until you do your own “I was wrong,” you won’t learn what inside of you keeps you rescuing, enabling, or putting up with bad behavior.
This is one of the main reasons it’s so difficult to become a Christian. You can’t just join the club and start going to church. You have to tell God, “I’ve sinned.” In other words, “I was wrong.” What a humbling statement! And yet it’s a requirement for accepting Christ’s sacrifice for your sins. If there is no disease of sin to confess, there is no sense or logic in receiving the antidote of forgiveness. Listen to John: “If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:8 – 9).
And yet look at the benefit from the spiritual side. You can fix, or God will fix, what you can confess. The problem of guilt and alienation from him gets erased forever. The central reality of life has changed.
“I was wrong” is a very, very healing sentence.
People Identify with Those Who Own Their Stuff
Think about the last argument you had with a person who would not admit fault. He or she diverted, blamed, dismissed, changed the subject, played victim, and used any number of other tactics. Didn’t it feel awful? Didn’t the time go by slowly? Didn’t you feel helpless?
Nobody healthy wants to be around someone who can’t say, “I was wrong.” We all want a mutual connection that goes back and forth, with one person saying, “I screwed up an account today,” and the other saying, “I was late for my kids’ soccer game for the third time.” When I am in these conversations, I relax and, even knowing there will be difficulty, I feel energized and connected. No pretense, no defensiveness. We’re all in the same boat of being imperfect people. What a relief!
I was doing an executive summary with a CEO of a day I spent with her team. It had been a tough day, because the company was struggling and many of the problems pointed to failures in her leadership. Though she was highly relational and supportive, she often avoided tough decisions such as confronting poor performance and letting go of long-term employees whose entitlement led them to behave as though they shouldn’t have to work hard.
I went over the issues with her in her office, telling her, “A great deal of the challenge is about your lack of boundaries and follow-through on decisions.” I didn’t know what she would say. I was so gratified when she said, “I’ve always known this at some level but didn’t want it to be true. I’m pretty disappointed in myself, because it is true. This is my company and I will change this.”
She did change it, and the company benefitted. This CEO’s capacity to admit when she was wrong changed everything.
People Feel Safer
When you say, “I was wrong,” after truly wronging a person in some way, you are telling them, “I am aware of how I have impacted you, and I care about that.” Rather than randomly smashing plates in someone’s kitchen and then saying, “Well, I was careless,” you say, “Those plates were important to you, and I am really sorry about how poorly I treated them.” I call this an impact statement.
Impact statements draw people together and make them bond and trust one another. Just like the executive husband at the beginning of this chapter, people warm up to “I was wrong and I know how I affected you.”
I asked the wife in the story that opened this chapter why she warmed up to her husband after he confessed and made his impact statement. She said, “There were two things. First, I felt like if he could see it, then it was less likely that he’d do it again. But the most important part was that I could tell how bad he felt that he had hurt me. When I saw on his face how bad he felt about his impact, and I could tell it was real, I felt understood and I wanted to be close to him again.” Those are the two reasons people feel safe: less likelihood of a negative reoccurrence, and seeing an empathetic response to the damage we do.
Hard, Hard, Hard
“I was wrong” is one of the hardest statements for us to make. Why does it stick in our throat? Because it does.
The entitlement mantra is: I can’t admit fault. I would look weak and ashamed. The Hard Way mantra is: I need to admit wrong readily, because it will set me free. Let’s identify and resolve several of the obstacles to confessing that we were wrong.
Habit. Unfortunately, our culture of entitlement has trained us to avoid taking ownership at all costs. It is a deeply engrained, universal habit. Watch Judge Judy or experience a child custody battle or just read the celebrity breakups in People magazine. It gets vicious. The finger-pointing becomes extreme. In our culture, it’s normal to blame. The ratio of “it was me” to “it was not me,” whether it be on TV or at a party, is a very low fraction.
Our spiritual heritage. To add to that, we are born blamers, just like Adam and Eve, our parents. It’s in our DNA, from the very beginning. When we caught our kids with their hand literally in the cookie jar, they made up some of the most creative lies about it. Sometimes their excuses just made us laugh: “My brother made me.” Uh, your sibling made you take and eat a cookie? That had to be one of my all-time favorites.
But one of the jobs of parenting is to help kids grow out of the blame game so that when bad things happen, the first thing out of their mouths isn’t a reactive “not me!” but a thoughtful “Let me think what I might have contributed to this mess.” Through good parenting and good example, kids can learn the habit of taking the beam out of their own eye (Matthew 7:4 – 5).
Self-judgment. Sometimes people don’t admit fault because it goes beyond “uncomfortable.” We all have an inner judge who can grow harsh and condemning. And to look at our true condition and its negative impact on others can feel unbelievably painful.
I was working with a family in which the father had made some poor financial decisions that gravely impacted the entire family and its future. He had not listened to sound advice or the appeals of his family, and he had made some unwise and highly speculative investments, using their savings and the equity of their home. It had all come crashing down.
We had a very, very tough meeting. The dad got quite defensive: “I did the best I could for my family! I had bad advice! You all don’t support me!” But the family pressed on toward his impact on them. Finally, at one point, I saw his face change — and it was not a good change, as in remorse. “Maybe I’m no good to anyone,” he declared. “Maybe I need to not be around.”
I got him to a psychologist’s office ASAP, and he stabilized. But it was a scary time. What was behind this man’s self-harming thoughts was a harsh, internal voice of judgment that skewered him to the point of despair. He had always been a strong, silent type, hard on himself. And he had little experience with receiving grace, support, or love. When you have little grace inside, the judge runs rampant. The law truly brings wrath (Romans 4:15), and his self-wrath was horrible.
The good news is that after he had been in counseling a while and had received support from his family, he was able to admit how destructive his financial choices had been for them and how sorry and remorseful he felt for making them. He had internalized enough grace to tolerate his wrongdoing, which gave him the compassion for his family members that they needed to hear from him.
Could something like this be your obstacle to saying, “I was wrong”? Perhaps you fear that if you admit something, you will fall into a black hole of self-hatred. That does happen in rare cases, like this one. If so, surround yourself with a God and people who are full not only of truth, but grace as well (John 1:14).
Knowing and saying. Some people don’t admit fault, even when they know they are wrong, because the very act of saying the words out loud to someone is so painful. They feel bad inside, but it is hard for them to bring their failures out in a relationship. They feel shame and guilt that they would prefer to avoid.
That is a unique aspect of relationships. While, left to ourselves, most of us can compartmentalize negative realities about ourselves and think about something else to avoid them, not so when we connect. When we talk to people about our failures, the emotional awareness of what we have done comes to the surface, and it becomes much harder to avoid and pretend it’s not there. It’s like what happens when you drop an Alka-Seltzer tablet in a glass of water. The water releases the potency of the tablet, which was inert until then. Relationships release how we really feel and what we really know about our actions. So many entitled people simply avoid admitting fault to others, intuitively knowing that they might feel some reality that will be difficult to deal with.
Our language. We use all sorts of word games to avoid saying, “I was wrong,” and these games negate the value of our confession. Here are a few things never to say again, along with some healthy alternatives:
• “It wasn’t my fault” vs. “I may have been at fault, I will truly think about this.”
• “It wasn’t that bad” vs. “It was wrong, and that’s that.”
• “I’m not hurting anyone but myself” vs. “I have an impact on people who matter to me.”
• “They made me” vs. “They influenced me, and then I made my own choice.”
• “I’m sorry you got your feelings hurt” vs. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
You’re not alone! I still sometimes catch myself using these word games. But you get better the more you work on it.
It’s Worth It
I have seen many success stories in people moving from entitlement to success via the Hard Way, and a great deal of it has started with saying, “I was wrong.”
I have seen a board of directors forgive a CEO for making bad decisions and give him another chance.
I have seen a mom who alienated herself from her kids by constant criticism gain their affection and love.
I have seen marriages rebuilt and families healed.
And I have seen unsuccessful people who have never gotten their act together and pridefully blamed others finally break down, own their errors, gain support, and find great careers and opportunities.
It happens all the time.
“I was wrong” is not the end of things, but the door to new things. After confession comes repentance, as sure as after the doctor’s diagnosis comes the prescription. But nothing substantive happens in our lives until we humble ourselves enough to say the words “I was wrong,” whether it be about how we fail ourselves, or fail others, or fail God.
Make “I was wrong” a normal part of your vocabulary, and then watch what happens.
Skills
1. Lean toward “overconfessing” this week. Say, “I didn’t mean to go on about myself” or “I think I came on too critical” or “I was ten minutes late and that took time out of your day.” These are little things, but they will help you become aware of the benefits and power of stating when you are wrong about matters, even small ones.
2. Read Psalm 51:17: “My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.” This is a great passage to help you experience the power of confession and the nearness and closeness of God as a result.
3. Write down the number one thing that has kept you from the career, happiness, relationship, or direction you have been seeking. And it can’t start with someone else’s name! Start with “I have been wrong in how I have avoided hard things” or “I’ve been waiting on someone to give me permission to take risks” or “I have depended on my parents to bail me out of hardship.” Read it. No, it isn’t pleasant, but it’s the best surgery. Then start taking actions so that you’ll never have to say, “I was wrong” about that specific mistake again. There will be others! But you can begin to change that one this week and get on with enjoying a new life.