My Story With Blame

Looking at blame from a distance, I have an interesting story towards it and maybe painful as well.

When I look at the word blame, I remember from childhood being blamed for not calling my father to ask about him. I remember me blaming me for not fitting to match my parents’ expectations of me. I remember me blaming myself for existing in a place I never felt that I truly belong there.

It is like there has to be a justification. A reason. It shouldn’t exist without a reason. I am not enough. Why? Who to blame? My parents’ marriage is not perfect. Why? Who to blame?

Interestingly I have pointed that blame towards myself heavily. It was me to fix the situation. It was me to maintain the peace. It was me to keep the situation quite and comfortable in the house. It was me to prove myself and be enough. It was me, me, me.

Then later with so much mental and emotional processing and awakening aha moments, I was like: What is happening here? What am I doing to myself? Does this make any sense? I am just a human being. Can I really fix all these problems and make them mine? Can I really make everyone happy at my own expense? Can I really focus on others all the time and keep myself at the end of the never enough list?

At this point, my story with blame shifted from: It is me to blame.. to: mmm… Interesting. What else to this blaming drama I am creating for myself?

Lastly, I feel sad and emotional for all the unnecessary burdens and stresses I have added to my mental and emotional wellbeing from childhood until my mid thirties. Reflecting and processing this way opens for me a door. It doesn’t need to be like this. I can change this story. I can adjust it. I can question it and make it work for me instead of against me. Thanks Allah for this blessing.