We all want to believe we are fair.
That we weigh both sides.
That we let the truth speak,
even when it speaks against us.
But beneath the surface of reason
lives something older—
something warmer,
something called mine.
We believe our side of the story.
We protect it.
We build it not just with facts,
but with identity.
With memory.
With belonging.
This is my-side bias—
the deep tendency to seek, favor, and defend
information that supports what we already believe,
because it feels like part of who we are.
And when the truth tries to interrupt us,
we often don’t let it in.
This is irrational belief persistence—
when even disconfirming evidence
cannot loosen our grip
on a story we’ve carried too long.
The Comfort of Familiar Belief
Beliefs are not just conclusions.
They are companions.
We build our lives around them.
They become the frame
through which we understand the world.
And so when someone questions them,
it feels less like a correction
and more like a threat.
Not just to the idea—
but to us.
This is why the mind resists
even clear evidence
that asks us to rethink.
Not because we can’t reason.
But because reason must now compete
with comfort,
with tribe,
with self.
The Loops That Keep Us
We seek out sources that agree.
We interpret neutral facts in our favor.
We remember the confirming cases.
We forget the rest.
And so the belief persists.
Long past its usefulness.
Long past its truth.
Even when the world knocks gently,
saying,
Look again.
This may no longer be so.
We nod politely,
then turn back to the safety
of the belief we’ve always held.
How We Begin to Let Go
Letting go of a belief
is not a moment.
It is a process.
It begins with one brave question:
What if I’m wrong?
And then another:
Why am I so sure I’m right?
It deepens with curiosity—
not about why we believe what we do,
but about why we have clung to it
despite what we’ve seen.
We begin to notice
how our identity is stitched
into the seams of our convictions.
And then, slowly,
we begin to unpick the thread.
The Strength in Softening
To change your mind
is not weakness.
It is strength that has matured.
It means you love the truth
more than the feeling of being right.
It means you’ve learned
to hold your beliefs
like a traveler holds a map—
useful,
but always subject to revision.
And sometimes, the journey
teaches you that the path you’ve drawn
no longer leads
where you hoped it would.
A Closing Reflection
If you find yourself defending—
not just your belief,
but your need to be right—
pause.
Ask:
- What part of me is tied to this belief?
- What would it mean to release it?
- What evidence have I quietly ignored?
- Who might I become if I believed something truer?
Because truth does not knock down the door.
It waits quietly
until we are brave enough
to unlock it ourselves.
And in the end, my-side bias and irrational belief persistence remind us
that thinking clearly is not about outsmarting others—
it is about being honest with ourselves.
To be wise is not to be rigid,
but to remain soft where it matters most:
in the places where our certainty
was built not from truth,
but from fear.