It's not your fault. So who's to blame?

Everyone is trying their best (most of the time).

Your partner does. You do. Your parents did. And somehow, despite all that trying, something still isn't working. You're not OK. And you're not quite sure what to do with that, because they’re good people. They love you. They mean well. They are, by most measures, doing their best.

So why does it still hurt?

Why do you keep putting it off?

You've been thinking about therapy for a while. Maybe longer than you'd like to admit. And every time you get close to actually doing something about it, the doubt creeps in:

If I go to therapy, I'll have to talk about them. It feels like betrayal.

Maybe it's your parents. You had a happy enough, normal childhood. You had everything you needed. But did you? You're less sure than you used to be. Talking about it feels disloyal, because they tried. Yes, they may have had money worries. Yes, they may have been distracted by work. Yes, they may have had mental health issues of their own at a time when talking about them just wasn't the done thing. But they tried. They really did.

Or maybe it's your partner. You love them. You want to make this work. You're planning your future with them. But something between you isn't right, and you know that if you sit down with a therapist and start talking, their name will come up. And then what? Are you building a case against them? Are you turning someone who is trying their best into the villain of your story? That's not fair. It takes two people for a relationship to feel like a struggle.

"I don't want to bad-mouth my loved ones to someone I barely know." For some clients, this was part of why they waited so long to get in touch. And it's one of the most important things to address before we even begin the work.

Talking about someone is not a betrayal

When you come to therapy and tell me about your childhood, your relationship, the people who shaped you, you are not putting them on trial. We are exploring your experiences to understand what's underneath. And your experience doesn't require anyone to be guilty for it to be real to you.

Your pain is real. Your confusion is real. The thing that isn't working anymore is real. None of that requires anyone to be at fault.

The people my clients worry most about bad-mouthing are usually the ones who truly have their best interests at heart. The partner who always wants to sort it out after the argument. The parent who wishes they'd had the words when you were a child. They are not your adversaries in this process. If they want what's best for you, then we are all on the same team.

“Your pain is real. Your confusion is real. The thing that isn’t working anymore is real. None of that requires anyone to be at fault”

Why blame doesn't really work anyway

Here's the thing about blame: even when it feels justified, it tends to keep us stuck.

Let's be clear: sometimes the people who hurt us should be held accountable, especially when harm was inflicted intentionally. But blame is retrospective. It looks backward. It assigns fault and then stops there. And stopping there doesn't change anything about where you are now or where you want to go.

Understanding is different. Understanding asks not just what happened, that's only the beginning. How? Why? Who was involved? What do you imagine they thought and felt and wanted? And when you start exploring, your experiences start to open up.

Your mother was emotionally unavailable. Why? Because her mother was too frightened to be close to anyone. Your father lost his temper in ways that frightened you. Why? Because he grew up in a house where anger was the only feeling anyone was allowed to have.

You could follow that chain backwards and sideways indefinitely. There is no beginning. There is no original fault. There is only a web of people doing the best they could with what they had at the time, passing on what they received, often without meaning to.

Understanding isn't about excuses. It doesn't mean your pain isn't valid. Complexity, when we can sit with it, is often where the real relief begins.

Holding two things at once

One of the things therapy asks of you is the capacity to hold two things simultaneously that might seem to contradict each other.

My parents loved me. And I was unhappy.

My partner is a good person. And something between us isn't working.

I had every advantage. And I'm not OK.

All of these things can be true at the same time. The second doesn't cancel the first. The difficulty doesn't erase the love. The love doesn't erase the difficulty.

Sitting with complexity isn't easy. We tend toward simplicity. Either my childhood was fine and I have nothing to complain about, or it was damaging and someone is to blame. Either my partner is good and I should be happy, or they're the problem and I should leave.

Therapy makes room for a messier truth. The one where both things are real. Where you can love someone and also be honest about the ways they hurt you. Where you can understand someone’s positive intentions and also acknowledge the negative impact they had. Where you don't have to choose between loyalty and honesty.

What about when someone really did cause harm?

Sometimes the situation is less ambiguous. Sometimes real harm was done deliberately and repeatedly. Sometimes there is someone who deserves to be held accountable in a way that goes beyond gentle understanding.

In those situations, the question of blame sits differently. And therapy doesn't ask you to forgive and forget or to find compassion you don't yet feel.

But even then, understanding what was behind someone's actions, what shaped them, what drove them, is not the same as excusing them. It's just a fuller picture. And a fuller picture frees you up more than blame alone ever can.

What this means for the therapy room

When you come and talk to me and inevitably what comes up is your partner, your parents, the people who you love the most, you are not betraying them. You are trying to understand yourself. And I am not here to build a case against anyone. I am here to help you make sense of your own experience, in all its complexity.

The people who love you and want what's best for you? They're on your side in this. And so am I.

It's not your fault. Yet there's a part of you which feels very much to blame. Let’s go from there.

If something in this has resonated, I'd love to hear from you. The free 20-minute introductory call is a good place to start. There's nothing to prepare and no pressure to commit. If you would rather write that talk, send me a message. Learn more about me and how I work.

I look forward to meeting you and hearing about your life in all its complexity.