LOH245: When Being Right Isn't Enough

There’s a certain sharpness to the phrase “I told you so”. It’s short and smug, but when it lands, it hits right where it hurts.

When I was younger, not much older than my siblings, yet somehow feeling infinitely wiser, I used that phrase like a badge of pride. I threw it around whenever one of them made a mistake I had warned them about. And because I grew up in a Nigerian home, many of those mistakes often led to real consequences – sometimes even a sound beating from my mom. Did that stop me? Nope. In fact, that was when I pronounced the most “Did you listen? No. I told you”.

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Looking back now, I realize it wasn’t really helping them. It was just mainly about me being right - they didn’t listen to me, and so I was proven right. And since they were younger and just as stubborn, it felt like the only form of justice I could claim at the moment. But you know what? That kind of justice is just as cheap, and it doesn’t heal nor does it teach them not to do it again, it doesn’t even make you feel good for long. It just adds insult to injury and somehow, distances you from the very people you love.

And I only began to understand this as I grew up. I remember once my younger sister did something she clearly shouldn’t have, but still she went behind our mom’s back to do it. I had warned her, but she did anyway. When my mom found out, the scolding came hard – and I, true to my childhood instinct, said “See? I told you so”. She didn’t say anything back, she just looked at me, her eyes were red and I could tell she was very angry at me and hurt. Not because of our mom but because of me. I was supposed to be her safe space and I’d just kicked her while she was already down. That look haunted me.

The trust is, no one enjoys being told they’re wrong. When you’re already suffering with the consequences of their decision, what you would often want from someone is a reminder that you’re still accepted and human, not them reminding you of your wrong. Now, I’d love to say I stopped using that phrase after that, no, change doesn’t happen overnight. But eventually, I stated opting for silence instead of smugness or sometimes I’d ask “Are you okay?” instead of gloating. Other times, I’d just sit quietly beside them, not judging them or rubbing salt in their wounds. I would just be there.

It doesn’t mean I no longer feel an impulse to say something when I’m right. Oh, the temptation is there, especially when I warned them, but I have learned to ask myself ”What will this achieve right now? Is it about them or is it about me?”. More often than now, it’s about me. My pride and my bruised ego from being ignored.

But maturity, I’ve learnt, sometimes looks like swallowing your pride and letting the moment pass, letting your sibling or friend come to you by themselves later, when the sting has faded and say “You were right”. And then you just smile and maybe say “I know, I’m glad you’re okay”

Today, when I ponder on that phrase “I told you so”, all that comes to my mind are the countless way in which a well-intentioned “I told you so” could’ve caused more damage than healing, and I now understand that outgrowing it wasn’t just a boon to others but also to myself. I have learned to lead from a place of grace, to choose peace over pride and to view errors not as something to win. Because to be quite honest, when everything is all said and done, I don’t want to be remembered as the sister who was always right.

Thanks for reading.

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This is my entry to the Ladies of Hive community contest for the week

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