“You must avoid not only blaming others but also blaming yourself…Self-blame is a form of self-rejection in which you ignore or deny your own goodness and beauty.”
- Henri Nouwen
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These days, I’m sitting with a lot of self-blame.
I’m learning that my children need what’s termed a “buffering adult,” because their bodies are not equipped to manage self-regulation until about the age of six—which explains the incessant rotation of tantrums from our three youngest.
We all need to be seen, heart, held. It is crucial to our survival and sanity.
My children have cried for me to hold them, and I have turned away. Sometimes it was out of compassion fatigue, a psychological term used to define the emotional depletion one experiences when s/he no longer has the capacity to give anymore.
Sometimes, though, I have turned away, because I didn’t understand that they needed to feel safe in the midst of a meltdown. I have never been gifted at deciphering the cries of an infant or toddler. Instead, I would tick off the basics in my mind: diaper change, fed, took a nap, good!
An infant’s cries are always a need to be loved, though, and I have missed the mark on that more than I care to admit to you, or to myself. Turns out, maternal depression is a marker for poor self-image in children. What a surprise.
So what I have excavated in my self-discovery initially involved a wave of self-blame. This was my automatic inner critic, wagging its finger in my face and tsk-tsking me with, “I told you so!” I end up feeling small, because I make myself feel small. I forget who I am—a human, not a deity.
The expectations I tend to place on myself and others become delusions that can never be fulfilled.
Despite the fact I have never labeled myself a humble person, I have heard others who verbally self-deprecate in my presence say they are. “Well, I guess it’s my fault that my sister stopped talking to me. After all, I helped her move and paid a few of her bills, and she gets upset by my generosity. I’m trying to be humble.”
Really?
I don’t think self-blame is always an accurate—that is to say, a complete—representation of reality. And that’s what I’m realizing that healing is about, which is placing myself at the center of what is real and true. In order to do that, I have to face myself and admit the things I think and feel.
Blame does not lead to honesty or dialogue or repair.
If I blame myself for everything gone wrong, I am neglecting to see how my choices are mine alone, and the way others react to them belongs to them alone. When I wallow in self-blame, I am also not cognizant of how I can make better choices in the future, or learn from my past mistakes.
When I blame others, I turn the inner critic outward and hurl judgments that emerge from my unhealed wounds. In this way, I am incapable of truly accepting the other person as s/he is, a fallible human like myself, but also a human with great potential.
There is no way for me to recognize beauty and goodness and truth when I am slogging through the swamp of blame, either towards myself or others. This is because I only see the problem, and I can’t get past the shame related to this self-recrimination. I’m not in a position to notice what might truly be a problem, or a tragedy, or a flagrant misstep, in such a way that I can also acknowledge what I’m able to alter and improve.
Blame also differs from accepting personal responsibility. Accepting responsibility for my actions includes a healthy sense of who I am, both the weaknesses and strengths I innately possess. I can be honest and apologize, then repair the rupture in the relationship, without actually listening to my inner critic’s stories of self-blame, whose relatives include self-loathing, self-victimization, and even groveling.
It’s normal to mess up. Yes, I have failed as a mother in many, many ways. At the same time, when I am able to remove my thoughts from a state of self-pity to a place of honesty, I gain clarity on where and how I can do better. And when I fail again, which I will, I can say to my children, “It’s not your fault that Mommy yelled. I was angry, but I should not have taken it out on you. I’m sorry and I love you.” Usually, this is followed by asking if my little would like a hug, and they tend to say yes.
Forgiveness, I see, is the window through which love moves me to others. It only closes when I blame myself or someone else, when I end up despising the reality that I’m human and always will be. But acceptance of my fallibility, while also acknowledging my inherent worth? That may actually be the beginning of integrity.
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If you enjoyed reading this essay, you might like other similar reflections I’ve written in the past. You can check a few of them out here:
The Book Club for Busy Readers
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Beautifully articulated Jeannie. Yes, there is a big difference between self-blame and accountability. Easier said than done, I know. But practice helps us get there. ♥️
Hi Jeannie,
Your essay has me thinking about blame and wondering if it's ever helpful or serves a purpose. It doesn't matter if we blame others or blame ourselves. Neither is helpful as far as moving forward in a situation. We are all human. We all mess up. So, does blame ever serve a good purpose? I'm thinking, no. As you wrote, it's different from taking responsibility. Blame almost always causes hurt and that's why it's so closely tied to shame.
Lately, I've been blaming different subsets of folks about the outcome of the presidential election. I guess that doesn't help in the here and now either. Blaming is easy. Too easy. Thanks for the thought-provoking read.