Dear Miss Edna,
I never thought I’d be the kind of person who writes into advice columns, but here I am—admitting something I didn’t think I’d ever say out loud:
I’m addicted to being right.
I don’t mean in a cute, quirky, “haha I told you so” kind of way. I mean… I argue everything. Even when I’m wrong. Especially when I’m wrong. I dig my heels in, raise my voice, and get defensive—because somewhere deep down, I feel like if I lose an argument, it means I lose my value.
It’s become a real problem. My husband and I have had multiple fights where he ends up walking away, shaking his head, while I stand there technically wrong but still firing off final jabs.
I’ve corrected friends mid-sentence—even when it didn’t matter.
I’ve Googled stuff during conversations just to prove someone wrong about the most trivial things.
It’s exhausting.
“I don’t even like myself after I win.”
And the worst part? I don’t even like myself after I win. I feel victorious for a second, then ashamed that I couldn’t just… let it go.
I know this isn’t healthy. I know it’s damaging my relationships. But I also don’t know how to stop.
Somewhere along the way, “being right” became part of my identity. It’s how I protect myself. I think it started back in my childhood—my opinions were rarely valued, and I felt invisible. Now, I feel like I have to fight to be heard… even when no one’s trying to silence me.
“Miss Edna, I need a hard truth and a soft place to land.”
How do I stop needing to be right all the time—before I push everyone away?
Sincerely,
Always Right (and Tired of It)
💥 Miss Edna’s Response
Oh, sweetheart…
I don’t know whether to hug you or hand you a mirror with the words “You’re Not Always Right” scrawled across it in red lipstick.
Let’s Start Here: You’re Not a Villain, But You Are the Problem
This isn’t about being evil or cruel. It’s about being addicted to the dopamine rush of being right. And sugar, if we handed out awards for digging heels in, you’d have a trophy shelf larger than your social circle—because that’s what’s shrinking every time you choose pride over peace.
Fighting to Be Right Will Leave You Alone… and Still Wrong
Let me make this plain: being right is not the same as being wise.
You can be technically right and still be emotionally reckless. You can win the argument and lose the relationship. And from where I’m sitting, it looks like that’s exactly what you’re doing—over and over, until there’s no one left to argue with except your reflection.
“But It’s Who I Am!” Isn’t a Defense, It’s a Confession
You said being right became part of your identity. Honey, that’s not an identity—it’s armor. Armor you built in childhood because you didn’t feel seen or heard. But here’s the catch: armor protects, but it also isolates. And now, you’ve got everyone around you dodging your words like they’re landmines.
Let me tell you what real strength looks like: listening without loading your next rebuttal. Apologizing without adding a “but.” Being okay with someone else having the final word—even if it leaves your pride a little bruised.
🛑 Your Ego Is Loud—But Your Insecurity Is Louder
All this arguing? It’s not confidence. It’s fear—fear of being overlooked again, of feeling small. But sugar, you don’t need to shout to matter. You don’t need to win to be worthy.
You need to heal the part of you that thinks being wrong makes you unlovable.
✅ Let’s Practice This Together:
- Next time you want to argue over a minor detail? Don’t.
- Next time you feel that burning need to correct someone? Pause and ask yourself, “Will this matter in 5 minutes? 5 years?”
- Next time you lose an argument? Say, “You’re right,” and see if your world crumbles. (Spoiler: it won’t.)
✨ Final Thought: Humility Is the Real Superpower
You don’t need to be the smartest person in the room. You need to be the kindest one. And trust me, kindness leaves a longer legacy than being right ever will.
Now, go apologize to your husband. Text your friends without correcting their grammar. And give your inner child a hug—then tell her that she’s loved, even when she’s wrong.
— Miss Edna, who’s been wrong plenty of times and still sleeps like a baby.