Figuring out who the bad guy is works well in movies, but it’s terrible for relationships.
When conflict arises in marriage, it’s tempting to look for a place to point the finger. Someone must’ve messed up. Someone must be at fault. It’s a reflex in our culture to find the bad guy. But whether that finger points outward or inward, the result is the same—we get stuck.
Blame is seductive. It gives us a momentary sense of clarity. But it’s a sticky tar pit keeping us stuck, especially when we turn it on ourselves.
What Blaming Ourselves Looks Like
Self-blame is not the same as accountability. Don’t confuse collapsing in shame and self-punishment with owning your part. When you blame yourself, you make yourself the problem instead of facing the problem. That might feel noble, but it’s not.
Not all self-blame looks the same. There are two faces of self-blame I see most often in couples work:
1. Appeasement Blame
This is the quick-fold reflex. “I’m sorry. You’re right,” as an automatic reflex. If you immediately assume you are at fault whenever there’s tension, this is probably sounding familiar to you. People in this pattern often say, “You’re right, I messed up,” not because they’ve reflected on their contribution, but because they want to avoid further conflict. It’s a survival strategy—an anxious attempt to preserve connection by becoming neutral or agreeable.
Example:
Sarah brings up a concern about money. Her husband, Mark, reacts defensively and accuses her of being controlling. Sarah withdraws and later tells herself, “I should’ve just kept my mouth shut. I always come on too strong.”
This is a form of self-rejection dressed up as maturity. And it’s usually driven by fear—the fear of being too much, of being alone, of being in trouble, of being rejected. It’s “keeping the peace” at great expense to yourself.
2. Self-Loathing Blame
The second type of self-blame runs deeper. During a conflict, a person with this pattern is often defensive. They might say, “Don’t blame me. You’re the one who is causing this problem!” However, some time later, or perhaps in a different situation, when they realize they made a mistake, self-loathing and the shame spiral crash down on them. This is the voice inside of them that doesn’t just say, “I made a mistake.” It says, “There’s something wrong with me. I’m a horrible person.” This voice isn’t trying to keep the peace—it’s trying to punish. It says things like, “Of course I ruined it,” or “This is just who I am. I always screw things up.”
That’s not taking responsibility for your actions. That’s self-attacking masquerading as growth. And it leads nowhere good. It keeps people locked in a cycle of self-hatred and overcompensation. It’s not uncommon for someone to swing between groveling and resentment because deep down they feel unworthy of love, and they’re exhausted from trying to earn it.
Whether it shows up as appeasement or self-loathing, internal blame keeps us stuck in a powerless loop. There’s no growth in blaming or shaming ourselves (or other people). It’s just a non-stop loop of “I messed this up,” or “I’m so messed up. I’m a terrible person.”
What Taking Responsibility Looks Like
Taking responsibility means standing in your truth without puffing up or selling out. It means saying, “Here’s what I did. Here’s the impact. And here’s what I want to do differently.”
Back to Sarah. Imagine instead she says, “Okay, maybe bringing up the budget during dinner wasn’t ideal timing. I can own that. But this is something we need to talk about, and I have a right to bring it up.”
Boom. That’s strength. That’s clarity. That’s holding onto yourself while staying connected.
Or take a different example with Chris. He snaps at his wife in the chaos of a stressful morning. Later, he circles back: “I was overwhelmed, and I took it out on you. That’s on me. I want to find a better way to handle pressure.”
That’s not groveling. That’s leadership. That’s relational integrity.
He didn’t collapse into shame. He didn’t beat himself up. He didn’t hand over a bouquet of apologies with a side of self-loathing. He took responsibility. Calm. Clear. Accountable.
Blame creates shame. Responsibility creates movement.
Blame isolates. Responsibility connects.
When we stop blaming ourselves or each other, we stop fighting each other and start fighting for the relationship.
The Next Level: Full Responsibility for Our Experience
There’s one more level that’s worth exploring—one that isn’t always obvious, and certainly isn’t easy. But it’s powerful. It’s what I call taking full responsibility for your experience. Not just for your actions and your words, but for how you interpret, engage, and respond to what’s happening in your relationship.
This is not about blaming yourself for everything that happens. It’s reclaiming your agency.
As entrepreneur and author Jim Rohn said, “You must take personal responsibility. You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself. That is something you have charge of.”
Taking full responsibility means recognizing that your experience—your emotional state, your interpretation, your choices—is yours to own. It means moving out of a reactive posture and into a place of grounded agency.
Example:
When Mark accuses Sarah of being controlling, instead of spiraling or withdrawing, she pauses and reflects:
“What am I feeling? What story am I telling myself about his reaction?”
She responds, “When you said I was being controlling, I felt hurt and misunderstood. I know finances are a sensitive topic for us, but I want us to be able to talk about money without it feeling like a threat.”
That’s Sarah taking full responsibility—not just for what she says, but for how she processes what happened, what meaning she makes of it, and how she chooses to engage.
Now let’s look at Mark. He could stay in his defensive stance, or he could also step into full responsibility. Instead of blaming Sarah for making him feel controlled, he could take full responsibility.
Mark might say, “When you brought up the budget, I felt tense and judged. That’s something I’m working on, because I want to be able to talk about money without shutting down or turning it into a fight.”
That’s full responsibility. He’s not blaming Sarah for his reaction—he’s owning it. He’s naming what’s happening inside of him and expressing a desire to grow.
This kind of responsibility takes courage and practice. It asks you to stop waiting for your partner to change so you can feel better. It invites you to grow, regardless of what they do. It doesn’t mean staying in situations that are hurtful or toxic. However, it does mean taking ownership of your role in how you respond to what’s happening.
You begin to ask: What’s my work here? How do I want to show up? What kind of partner, listener, and human do I want to be, regardless of the circumstances?
This enables you to align your actions and words with your values, both as an individual and as a partner.
Final Thoughts
You don’t have to get this perfect. No one does. But if you can start to notice when you’re collapsing into blame—either toward your partner or yourself—you can step back and try it again.
Taking responsibility is a doorway to relational strength. But taking full responsibility for your experience? That’s where change starts to really happen, not just for your relationship, but for you.
Let’s end with another Jim Rohn quote. “You can’t control every circumstance in your marriage, but you do control who you choose to be inside it.”
