I once read a sentence that caught my attention:
“Blame is a way to discharge pain and discomfort.”
At first, I thought it didn’t apply to me. I rarely blame others when things go wrong. If anything, I tend to turn inward, reflecting quietly or sometimes even blaming myself. But as I thought more deeply, I realized that blame doesn’t always have to be loud or obvious. Sometimes it comes in subtle ways—like a passing thought of “If only they had acted differently” or “If only this situation had turned out another way.”
What I’ve learned is that blame, whether big or small, is often a mask for something deeper. It shows up when we’re hurting, when the discomfort feels too heavy to carry alone. By pushing it outward, even for a moment, we get temporary relief. But that relief is short-lived—the pain remains, waiting to be faced.
The truth is, healing doesn’t come from assigning fault. It comes from recognizing what’s really underneath: our vulnerability, our disappointment, our grief, our longing. Blame might disguise those feelings, but it can’t erase them.
So instead of asking “Who is at fault?”, I’ve started asking “What is this pain trying to tell me?” That shift changes everything. It turns blame from a dead-end into a mirror, one that reflects where the real work needs to happen—inside.
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