I’m Wrong (the peacemakers game)

This is the shining principle of a game that I’d played for quite a long time. For many many years, there were some folks - quite close to me - that had me believing that I was wrong. I was wrong in how I made decisions. I was wrong because I didn’t see the world as they saw it. I was wrong for not judging who they believed was worthy of condemnation. I was wrong in my very being – simply for being different – simply for being me.

So, I set about being just like them. I styled my hair the way they styled theirs. I ate a diet that mimicked what they ate. And when they judged me, I found fault with me too. I must be wrong because I seemed to trigger a violent rage in them. I must be wrong because they tell me I get it wrong with increasing regularity.

The, I’m Wrong - You’re Right game is the peacemakers game. The longer we “be” wrong, the longer we buy (with our bodies and our beings) the peace. Everyone benefits from the peace we create, but us. We, the different ones, dissolve into a puddle of pooh. Literally.

I didn’t know consciously that this was what I was doing. I just knew that being “wrong” proved to be an existential threat. If I didn’t “you’re right” them I’d be cut off from the tribe. Anthropologically speaking this is the threat of death. I could not honor myself – if I did, I would die. I thought I was successful in this endeavor till my body stopped going along with the game. My body decided that if I didn’t start honoring myself – it would kill me. And it set the wheels in motion for that to happen.

So, I set about saving my own life.

This. Was. Not. Easy.
Nor was it a one-and-done act of rebellion.

But I kept choosing me. I chose myself by minute, hour, day, week, and month. I trained myself to choose myself. After a lifetime of prioritizing the peace of others, this was bold. It felt wrong and selfish. But I went ahead anyway. I had children to parent. I had to save my life – if not for me – then for them, so, I kept choosing.

This past fall marked 10 years since I crashed and my body stopped working in the familiar way I had known it. It marks four years since I recognized that I must choose me or die. Gratefully, I have never been healthier or happier. As an empath, my body continues to be my greatest teacher. It tells me when to venture forth and when to hold back. It tells me who embodies kindness and who judges mercilessly. All I need to do is listen and trust it.

And the tribe that had me ‘wrong’? Well, I didn’t kneejerk to: “No, you’re wrong”. Because honestly, who knows if that’s true? Am I right? I have no idea. But one thing I know with crystal clarity is that I’m not wrong for me. And the greatest gift of all is knowing, that even in their rage-fueled state, they’re not wrong either.

And what’s driving their rage? That’s not mine to figure out. My peace is my business, their rage is theirs.

So, in this game of “you’re right – I’m wrong”, use it judiciously. Is there a cost to you when it’s employed? Who benefits from your wrongness? If you’re right – at what cost has your rightness come to you? Can you be honest with you in looking at all of that? And what’s the cost of giving up the game?

There are no right or wrong answers here. There is only more knowing. If we can allow for it.