The Blame We Carry (and How to Finally Set it Down)

Have you ever replayed a conflict, searching for what you did wrong—even when your gut whispered it wasn't your fault?

If so, you're not alone. For years, I would tie myself in knots after any hint of tension, scanning for my mistake like a detective at a crime scene. I thought if I could just "own my part"—even when there wasn't one—I could keep the peace. Or at least keep the target off my back.

Feelings Are Not Facts

This week, I faced a situation that brought all those old reflexes rushing back. A coworker tried to stir up conflict, even pulling another person into the drama. And for a moment—just a moment—I slipped right back into that familiar pattern: What did I do? Was I unclear? Too direct? Was there some hidden fault I couldn't see?

But here's what was different this time: I stopped and checked the actual facts. Not the feelings swirling around me, not the stories being spun, not the pressure to smooth things over by taking responsibility for someone else's mess. Just the facts.

The truth? There was no evidence against me. None.

And that's when I felt something I hadn't experienced in a long time: relief. Deep, exhaling relief.

Relief, because I could finally let go of the urge to "fix" what wasn't mine to fix. Relief, because I could set a boundary out loud—not just rehearse it in my mind for the hundredth time. Relief, because I realized that not every crash is mine to clean up.

Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is refuse to pick up blame that was never yours to carry.

What Your Nervous System Needs to Hear

Listen—if you've ever found yourself rehearsing a thousand different ways you "could've handled it better," just to avoid being seen as difficult or wrong, I want you to take a breath right now.

Sometimes, there is no lesson to learn except this: You are not responsible for other people's choices, reactions, or projections.

Your nervous system doesn't need another reason to stay hypervigilant, scanning for threats that aren't real. It needs permission to rest in the truth that you can be kind without being a doormat, and firm without being cruel.

Boundaries aren't punishments—they're how we honor what is and isn't ours to carry.

You Don't Have to Figure This Out Alone

If this stirred something in you—maybe a memory of your own over-apologizing, or a recent moment when you doubted your right to say no—I'd love to hear about it. Hit reply and share your story, your question, or even just your uncertainty.

You're not "too much" for having feelings about this. You're not "too little" for struggling with boundaries. And you don't have to figure this out alone.

If your body exhaled while reading this, trust that feeling. That's your wisdom speaking.

Some things are worth saving for when you're ready. This might be one of them.

With care,
Laura

P.S. If you're ready to explore what healthy boundaries actually look like in daily life—without the guilt or second-guessing—I've been working on something that might help. More on that soon.