Published at

    11 Jun, 2025

    Author

    Gripastudio

    “Sometimes we defend ourselves not because we’re right, but because we’re afraid of what it means if we’re wrong.”

    Blame can feel like a shield—but what if it’s only hiding our fear? This is a quiet invitation to slow down, reflect, and remember that the strongest response is often the softest one.

    I didn’t mean to listen.

    I was at a café that late afternoon — one of those quiet ones, tucked between the noise of city life and the hum of people trying to slow down. I was on my second cup of cappuccino, watching the sunlight scatter across a spoon, when I overheard her.

    She was sitting a few tables away, mid-phone call, voice hushed but tight. Not angry, exactly. Just… cornered.

    “It wasn’t me.” “You can’t expect me to take the fall for that.” “If they’d just done their part, none of this would’ve happened.”

    I caught only fragments, but I didn’t need the whole story. The tone was familiar — the kind that fills the air when someone’s trying very hard not to feel blamed. Or guilty. Or exposed.

    When she hung up, she exhaled heavily and sat back in her chair, staring at her untouched coffee. But then — almost without pause — she turned to the friend seated across from her. Still holding onto the tension in her chest, still seeking relief, she began again.

    “I mean, right? It wasn’t on me.” “They dropped the ball, and now it looks like it’s my fault.” “I just can’t be the one fixing this every time.”

    It wasn’t anger now — it was a quiet kind of desperation. She wasn’t just defending herself. She was trying to convince someone — anyone — that she was still okay. A validation that she was still right.

    And maybe that’s what stayed with me.

    ### The Reflex to Blame We’ve all done it — defended ourselves a little too fast. Shifted the narrative. Highlighted what they did wrong. Glossed over our own part in the mess. Blame is such an easy reflex. It makes things feel simple. Clear. It helps us preserve something fragile — our pride, our peace, our image. And let’s be honest: it’s a little addictive. To feel right. To feel above it. To not be the one who messed up. But the strange thing is, even after we’ve blamed someone else, we don’t always feel better. Sometimes, we just feel more alone.

    The Reflex to Blame

    We’ve all done it — defended ourselves a little too fast. Shifted the narrative. Highlighted what they did wrong. Glossed over our own part in the mess.

    Blame is such an easy reflex. It makes things feel simple. Clear. It helps us preserve something fragile — our pride, our peace, our image.

    And let’s be honest: it’s a little addictive. To feel right. To feel above it. To not be the one who messed up.

    But the strange thing is, even after we’ve blamed someone else, we don’t always feel better. Sometimes, we just feel more alone.

    Why We React Instead of Reflect

    Blaming others isn’t always about ego. Sometimes, it’s about fear.

    It’s about not wanting to be seen as incompetent. Or afraid we’ll lose our standing, our respect, our role. Sometimes, it’s about old wounds — maybe from childhood, or maybe from workplaces that punished honesty, or maybe from families that never offered softness after mistakes.

    So we guard ourselves with defensiveness. We push away responsibility not because we’re cruel, but because we’re scared.

    Scared of being misunderstood. Scared of being shamed. Scared of being held accountable before we’re ready to face ourselves.

    ### The Slow Wisdom of Waiting There’s a Javanese saying I’ve always found grounding: **“Sabar iku ingaran mustikaning laku.”** _Patience is the jewel of one’s conduct._ Not just the patience to wait in traffic or keep your voice calm— but the kind of patience that pauses before reacting. The kind that asks, _“What else could be happening here?”_ The kind that softens the heart long enough to see the bigger picture. Because when something goes wrong, our instincts want to be fast. Fast to defend. Fast to point fingers. Fast to escape discomfort. But the deeper truth? Understanding is slow. And often, it whispers rather than shouts.

    The Slow Wisdom of Waiting

    There’s a Javanese saying I’ve always found grounding:

    “Sabar iku ingaran mustikaning laku.” Patience is the jewel of one’s conduct.

    Not just the patience to wait in traffic or keep your voice calm— but the kind of patience that pauses before reacting. The kind that asks, “What else could be happening here?” The kind that softens the heart long enough to see the bigger picture.

    Because when something goes wrong, our instincts want to be fast. Fast to defend. Fast to point fingers. Fast to escape discomfort.

    But the deeper truth? Understanding is slow. And often, it whispers rather than shouts.

    A Quiet Jewel We Often Miss

    Patience, in this sense, isn’t passive. It’s presence. It’s the strength to say: “I may not have the full story yet. Let me look again.”

    Because sometimes, the loudest defence is just fear in disguise. And when we rush to protect ourselves, we miss the chance to understand ourselves more deeply.

    When we choose to wait— to breathe, to ask, to truly listen— we give grace a place to land.

    ### If You’ve Ever Blamed Too Quickly… If you’ve ever snapped back, If you’ve felt the sting of being blamed unfairly, Or found yourself pointing fingers before asking questions— You’re not alone. We all do it. Not because we’re unkind. But because being wrong feels scary. Because being blamed feels like being seen too closely. But the moment we stop needing to be right, we open ourselves to something softer: Curiosity. Responsibility. Connection.

    If You’ve Ever Blamed Too Quickly…

    If you’ve ever snapped back, If you’ve felt the sting of being blamed unfairly, Or found yourself pointing fingers before asking questions—

    You’re not alone. We all do it.

    Not because we’re unkind. But because being wrong feels scary. Because being blamed feels like being seen too closely.

    But the moment we stop needing to be right, we open ourselves to something softer: Curiosity. Responsibility. Connection.

    ### A Whisper to Carry So next time you feel that rising urge to defend, take a breath. Not because you are guilty, but because you are wise enough to wait. Blame may be fast. But wisdom moves slowly. And those who choose patience— who take the time to reflect, to feel, to understand— carry a strength that doesn’t need to shout to be heard. And that… is the kind of strength the world could use more of.

    A Whisper to Carry

    So next time you feel that rising urge to defend, take a breath.

    Not because you are guilty, but because you are wise enough to wait.

    Blame may be fast. But wisdom moves slowly. And those who choose patience— who take the time to reflect, to feel, to understand— carry a strength that doesn’t need to shout to be heard.

    And that… is the kind of strength the world could use more of.

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