When You’re Both Sure You’re Right (And It’s Christmas)

It’s that time of year again.

Family get-togethers.

A few parties.

Catching up with friends you haven’t seen in a while.

And somewhere between the appetizers and dessert, it happens.

You and a sibling start reminiscing… and suddenly you’re in that argument.

“You spilled the punch.”

“No, YOU spilled the punch.”

“That is absolutely not how it happened.”

“I was there. I remember.”

Sometimes it stays playful.

Sometimes it… does not.

It turns into a surprisingly intense attempt to get the other person to remember it your way—as if whoever wins gets a small trophy that says Official Keeper of the Family Truth.

Here’s an opinion that may be unpopular (and I’m open to being wrong 😉):

I don’t think most disagreements like this are about truth at all.

At least not the kind we think they are.

I’ve come to believe there are very few absolute truths that apply universally to everyone, all the time. Most of what we argue about—especially family memories—falls into a different category altogether:

Personal truth.

Our memories aren’t pristine recordings. They’re stories—edited, highlighted, softened, or intensified over time. Neuroscientists have shown that memory isn’t something we retrieve; it’s something we reconstruct. Every time we remember an event, we subtly reshape it.

Learning that changed me.

It’s why I don’t dig my heels in the way I used to, insisting I’m right and someone else must be wrong. Not because I suddenly became less confident—but because I became more curious.

You’ve probably seen the image:

Two people standing on opposite sides of a number painted on the ground.

One insists it’s a 6.

The other swears it’s a 9.

From their positions, they’re both right.

But neither is willing to move.

Holiday gatherings are full of “6 vs. 9” moments.

And what often gets us stuck isn’t the memory itself—it’s the belief that someone has to lose for the conversation to end.

So here’s a gentle experiment to try this season:

When one of those familiar disagreements pops up, pause and ask yourself:

Is it possible we’re both right—from where we’re standing?

Or, if that feels like too much in the moment:

Is this memory worth protecting… at the cost of connection?

You don’t have to abandon your version of events.

You don’t have to concede or correct.

And you definitely don’t have to turn Christmas dinner into a courtroom drama.

Sometimes the most peaceful option is letting multiple truths coexist.

Because joy doesn’t come from winning the argument.

It comes from staying connected to the people sitting across from us.

And if you notice how strong the urge is to be right—that’s useful information too. It might be pointing to something deeper: a desire to be seen, validated, or understood.

Truth shows up in layers.

And during the holidays, one of the kindest things we can do—for ourselves and others—is loosen our grip on being right… just enough to make room for warmth.

If this season brings up more reactions than you expected, you’re not alone. And you don’t have to navigate it by sheer willpower or politeness.

If you’d like help untangling what’s yours, what isn’t, and how to move through family dynamics with more ease, I’d love to support you.

Until then—may your gatherings be merry, your boundaries be quiet but firm, and your memories be allowed to be exactly what they are. 🎄

High five! ✋ 

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