On Being Wrong: Being Real, and Being Loved
Happy Sunday Fam!
This time of year always feels strange to me—like the Upside Down in Stranger Things, where everything feels real and dreamlike at the same time… or a nightmare...honestly, it just depends on the day.
I don’t know what day it is, school is out, and there’s nothing really keeping me in check. But maybe—maybe—that’s not such a bad thing.
As someone who floats between Type A and Type B, I made a very loose plan for what I wanted to accomplish over break. I’m learning how to live a soft life while still honoring the fact that I’m growing (and trying to remember that growth isn’t neat or perfect).
Speaking of imperfection, I had a quiet realization after a conversation with Jason: occasionally—rarely, but still—I am sometimes wrong. A humbling moment, truly.
Therapy has a way of holding up a mirror. I’ve become more aware of how certain environments, conversations, and even people can trigger anxiety in me. I spend so much of my day apologizing to friends, to strangers, to anyone in my orbit. And yet, somehow, it can feel harder to say I’m sorry to the person I love most. It’s easier to apologize to people who don’t know you deeply than it is to admit you’re wrong to your spouse because that kind of honesty requires vulnerability, humility, and trust. Growth has taught me that real love isn’t about being right; it’s about being real. Sometimes that means saying: I messed up. I own this. It’s me, not you. FR FR.
Now, I might lose some people here, but here's my truth:
I’ve never subscribed to the idea of “happy wife, happy life.” I believe in happy spouse, happy house. And because I’ve known my husband for so long, I assume a lot. I expect a lot. And, if we’re being honest, I am a lot.
But here’s what I know for sure: he has always made me feel safe. And because of that, he’s seen me at my absolute best and my absolute worst… and somehow still loves me on the other side.
In this next season, it’s his turn to live a soft life, whatever that looks like for him. He’s always carried this gentle posture of “if you’re happy, I’m happy,” and I want to return that love with intention. His version of softness may look nothing like mine. The way I show up for him may shift and evolve and I think that’s exactly how it should be.
What matters most is that, as a Black man in this world, he gets room to breathe. Space to rest. Permission to focus on himself, his joy, his healing, and his becoming. We don’t talk about this enough. We speak often about pouring into women, (and we should!) but we must also pour into men and their mental health. Regardless of gender, it is okay to not be okay. And it is more than okay to choose softness anyway.
Can I just say... I'm kind of hype about it?? When I reflect on the peace and space that Jason helped create while I've been on my journey of softness, I can't help but feel overwhelmed by the love and generosity he showed me. Having the opportunity to reciprocate that to him gives me the biggest, goofiest smile - I guess that's just what love is. Here's to you, your loved ones, and the ways we all make each feel held and safe from Butler and Co.
