I was late because the train broke down.
The dog ate it.
She started it.
He made me do it.
Everyone does it so why shouldn’t I?
Really. Why shouldn’t I blame someone else for my problems? My relationship with my family is screwed up almost beyond repair. I blame you. I lost my best friend. Really, I blame you. None of this was my fault; all of it was yours.
Look at what I’ve just done. I’ve assigned to others the responsibility for a series of actions or events that have had a bad outcome. I am now free to move on with my life having designated others the role of evil doer and myself the role of victim. I had no choice and no freewill in this matter. I couldn’t have prevented what happened. Give me sympathy, I deserve it. I demand it.
Umm… Can someone take this silly bitch and slap her upside the head for me? I’ve got other things on my mind.
As the oldest child of four, the words responsible and responsibility are ones I heard a lot, even before I could grasp what they meant. I was “responsible” for making sure that fights didn’t break out between us; “responsible” when they did. I was “responsible” for getting the meals on the table when Mum was working and not able to do it herself; “responsible” for those times that didn’t happen. I was “responsible” for making sure my siblings did their homework; “responsible” when they decided that television was a more appealing option.
I had “responsibility” thrust upon me. Except it wasn’t really “responsibility”, not all the time. Some of the time it was blame, disguised.
As I grew older, I realised that responsibility was something that I had to actually choose to accept and that no-one else could force that decision on me. I could go through life blaming others for my misfortunes and let others make me their scapegoat, or I could choose to accept that, in some cases, my actions led to the misfortunes.
For example, I could blame My Sister and The Husband for the fact that I rarely see or talk to the rest of my family. Or I could accept that the decisions I made, after I was accused of manipulating their misfortune for my own reasons, were decisions that I made freely, with regard to their possible outcomes, and that I am responsible, wholly or in part, for the deterioration of those relationships.
So, let’s flip a few things over.
I was late because I hit the snooze button too many times, missed my usual train and the train I ended up catching broke down.
My assignment is late because I left it too late to start researching the subject.
The fight started because I took her doll and refused to give it back.
He told me what he’d done. I wanted to know what would happen, so I put the peg on the cat’s tail.
My relationship with my family is screwed up almost beyond repair… I accept that this is the result of decisions I made and actions I took. I should have talked with my parents and my siblings about what has happened. I should have made a greater effort to understand their motivations for their actions. I am the one who has let these relationships die and I have let this continue for far too long. If there is to be any chance for the damage to be repaired I must be the one to make the first approach.
But…
Why can’t I stop myself feeling that none of this would have happened if they had not decided to use me as their scapegoat?
