Sometimes There’s No One to Blame–And That’s Okay

The other day, I caught myself spiraling again. Something didn’t work out the way I had hoped, and my first thought was: “What did I do wrong this time?” It’s almost automatic, like my brain would rather assign blame than sit with the fact that sometimes life just…happens.

But I’ve noticed it’s not always inward. When friendships break, when a breakup stings, or when I fight with my parents–I either drown in guilt or blame the other person completely. And yet, when I give things time, I usually see it more clearly: no one is fully at fault.

Some things fall apart because they were meant to. Some things don’t work out because the timing wasn’t right. And some things just belong in that mysterious category of “life being life.” It’s messy, imperfect, and often beyond anyone’s control.

That’s what I’m trying to learn now. To pause before carrying all the responsibility, or handing it away. To ask myself and journal: “What part of this is really mine to hold?” Sometimes it’s a lesson, sometimes it’s nothing at all. Either way, I don’t have to hold the whole weight of what went wrong.

Because most of the time, there is no villain. There’s just a story unfolding, one imperfect chapter at a time.