You Are Right, Even When You Are Wrong

I used to think when something felt right, it meant it would last. Turns out being wrong is sometimes the whole point.

It’s been a minute since I’ve published anything, and it’s not because I haven’t been writing — it’s because the drafts I’ve accumulated in my notes have either been too diary-like or too boring, and nothing has felt right. But to be honest, my life wasn’t starting to feel “right” until sort of recently.

What does that even mean? How are we supposed to know when something feels or looks right? I guess the answer is that you don’t know until you’re proven that it’s wrong. And damn, that really sucks.

I read somewhere that depth doesn’t equal destiny, and it got me thinking about myself and my own situations.

I started a website about a year ago called Up & At ’Em, where I told nobody who I was, nor did I tell any of my friends about it. I felt at peace writing what I wanted to without familiar eyes being on it. Over time, I got viewers from Germany and Spain, Russia and Greece, and random points in the U.S., which really motivated me to continue. I took pride in having something that no one else knew about, but anyone could read. That felt right.

I wrote about my first love, my family, myself, and anything I took from situations that could help someone else. I tried avoiding talking about a certain person because, as it just so happens, he was the only person I told about the blog. And why, you ask? I don’t really know. It felt right at the time, I guess.

Now, every draft I write and every topic I brainstorm, it’s in the back of my head that somehow he is reading it — and it scares me. Not because he would judge me, share it, or even bring it up to me, but because it conflicts with the integrity of the brand. The brand I created and spent time and money on, just to give it away to the one person I thought would get it.

And guess what? I was wrong. I was wrong about everything to do with him. So why did it feel right?

I see videos all the time of people being in relationships for five-plus years and calling it quits, ending engagements, or having to divorce after an affair enters the home. How do these people cope with the idea that their definition of “right” was wrong? You can read all the books and listen to all the podcasts you want, but there’s no solid answer. Shit happens, and you have to pick yourself up and keep going. Ouch.

After many sleepless nights and about a million thoughts on the situation, I’ve come up with my own answer to the question everybody asks at one point in their lives: How do we know when something is right?

When something is right, it doesn’t necessarily mean depth or connection. It doesn’t have to be love at first sight, nor does it have to mean it will be there forever. We all go through phases in our lives where people are introduced and then grown out of. And yes, there are situations that are fucked — and if you’re thinking I’m including every scenario in this idea, then recalculate that thought, because what I mean is just this:

My first boyfriend in high school had no redeeming qualities looking back. I paid for everything, made the plans, and was okay when most hangouts were just laying in his bed. I never felt love for him, but at 17, I didn’t know what that was even supposed to feel like. When I found out he had been cheating on me a month after we broke up, I started thinking that maybe my intuition knew something was wrong all along — and that’s why I could never allow myself to love him.

Sure, I cared about him. He was sweet and handsome, and my parents and friends liked him. But after finding that out, it became more of a next time, I’ll know it’s right when I feel it in my bones kind of thing. I was convinced that when it felt right, it would be right. He was a phase of my life that transitioned me into the next one, leaving me with nothing but more wisdom and understanding of love.

Let me tell you — that next phase kicked my ass.

I soon after met a funny, charismatic, outgoing, and deep man. I held onto him for so long because I couldn’t get over the feeling that it was right. Everything I had never felt for my high school boyfriend, I felt for him times a hundred. I never really did much to get the ball rolling because I was terrified of being wrong — and if I was, then I was seriously out of luck.

After two years of back-and-forth and drunken confessions, I finally had my “I was right” moment. Shortly after, I was hit with the white rabbit, and suddenly what had felt right for two years was taken away quicker than the speed of light. I was left with my gold metal, quickly tarnished, and no clue what to do with it.

Was it possible that I was wrong? Or maybe I knew all along it would end badly, and that’s why I was okay letting it be dragged out for so long. It’s hard to say, but the question I pondered for months after was this: If I felt that certain that something was right when it wasn’t, how could I possibly trust myself ever again?

The answer? You don’t.

It sucked. I was heartbroken, confused, and mad. Then I got tired of feeling so defeated and decided that I was right all along. I was right to trust my intuition, and I was right to fall in love with him — because what would have happened if I hadn’t? That phase of my life ended abruptly, but I still walked away with something gained.

If you want to know how to know when something is right, you have to let yourself be wrong. You have to be wrong many, many times. You have to have a good drunk cry on a curb at 2 a.m. to realize you deserve more than someone who makes you cry on a curb at 2 a.m. You have to be okay with loving the wrong person so deeply that you love the right one even more.

In my experience, the “right” thing won’t be what they do, but how they make you feel. Someone stable. Someone dependable. Someone who doesn’t find entertainment in the emotional toll of inconsistency. You shouldn’t be chasing an ego boost or working to prove yourself to someone who doesn’t see your worth.

To anyone wondering whether something or someone is right for you: it may not be right for the rest of your life, but it might be right for today, or tomorrow — or in my case, two years. But you’re always where you need to be. No feeling, no moment, no person is ever a waste of time if it brings you to where you are right now.

Give yourself grace. Love is all around. It will find you again — and properly this time. I’m right about that.

See you veryyy soon. XO-Em