If You’re Never the Problem (You are Definitely the Problem)
There’s little I find more interesting (and sometimes entertaining) than to read articles or listen to conversations where the fault is put solely on the other person. It’s like hearing a listicle entitled 51 Reasons My Ex Was to Blame or 10 Ways Dating is the Worst and People are Awful. Those titles might catch our attention, but I always hope to find a little nugget of introspection along the way.
Yes, sometimes dating is the worst, and people can be awful, but if we don’t uncover anything about ourselves in the process, we miss out an opportunity for personal growth.
I recently read an article that went into great detail about the other person’s faults and failings. The author almost managed to admit some personal responsibility for the way that the relationship fell out, but then veered back into blaming and making generalizations about the opposite sex. It had the potential to be a great article, but instead, it came across as self-serving and obtuse.
As a writer who writes often about relationships, I try to avoid this particular pitfall. It’s an easy one to fall headlong into. After all, there are times when we’re deceived, and bad things happen that are out of our control. But a relationship article that places the blame on one person and fails to find any lesson in the experience doesn’t do a lot for other people.
Of course, writing isn’t just about other people.
Most writers- myself included- write for ourselves and to process our own thoughts and feelings. But I do think it’s a missed opportunity if we have a relationship experience and fail to find any lesson in the entire experience. It’s also a missed opportunity to help someone else in a similar situation gain clarity.
If we’re never the problem, I can guarantee that we probably are. Even the word “relationship” implies participation by more than one party. If our relationships are all toxic, we’re likely participating in some way — usually without even knowing it. We’re dating our unresolved issues or self-sabotaging our relationships with unhealthy attitudes or behaviors. We might be making decisions from a place of low self-esteem or feelings of worthlessness, or we might be dating because we’re lonely or to fill up an empty space in our lives.
But if we never take ownership of the relationships we’ve chosen, if we forget that we had a part in choosing them, we’ll repeat the patterns and never learn.
When I read an article that fails to take personal responsibility, I have a hard time believing the perspective of the writer.
After all, if they can’t see what is so clear to most readers (that they are, in fact, self-sabotaging and making unhealthy choices), how can we trust that their perspective on others is accurate? If we can’t see that we’re responsible for the lives we’re living, we can’t really be insightful when it comes to other people either.
Instead of seeing other people clearly, we see our own issues reflected back to us, and we fill in the blanks with our own attitudes, feelings, and assumptions about their motivations and character.
It’s so much easier to blame than to find the lesson or to take responsibility. Mark Manson says it best in The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck when he talks about how events may not be our fault but that they become our responsibility. We’re responsible for learning from the things that happen to us, or we risk repeating those lessons until we do.
It’s tough to see when we’re deep in our feelings about these experiences, but it’s important to gain perspective. Often, asking those closest to us where we’re going wrong can be an invaluable tool for enlightenment, but we have to be able to ask without anger or feeling fragile. We need to be open to learning that there are things we’re doing that are causing undesirable events in our lives. A good friend would tell us. If we don’t have one of those, a good therapist can do the same.
But if we keep deciding that other people are the problem, we’ll likely continue feeling dissatisfied with our experiences with others. We’ll stay deep in toxic cycles and continue to have a negative outlook on the world around us. We’ll feel more anxious and depressed, and our self-esteem may take the brunt of it, which could influence our future decisions and worsen the cycle.
Or we can empower ourselves to find out how we’re participating. We can have a bad relationship experience and figure out the lesson in it. We can be open to learning and growing, and maybe we can even approach dating with positivity and humor, even when we’re tired of the whole process. We can take ownership of our own experiences, and we can break the toxic cycle by gaining a new perspective and working on our own issues rather than finding fault with everyone else.
As writers, working out our own issues and writing what we feel called to express is paramount.
But if we never see anything we do as problematic, it’s tough to connect with an audience who needs more than just to resonate with our experiences. Sometimes, they’re looking for help, and if we can only ever conclude that other people are the problem, we aren’t empowering anyone- ourselves included- to own their choices and create their lives. We’re just chattering into the void and forget that writing is a powerful tool we could be using to help.
Sometimes, we need to scream into the void. We all have our moments. But if I have to read another article where the person writing it fails to find even a glimmer of personal responsibility, I’ll be the one screaming.
We’re writers, but if we do nothing more than vent and blame, maybe we’re just verbal masturbaters and not actual wordsmiths. It’s important to consider the difference.
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