Stop Taking the Blame for Other People’s Bullsh*t

Let me tell you something I’ve seen over and over again in high-performing professionals: the tendency to carry the weight of the world, even when it doesn’t belong to you. You know who you are. You take pride in being the person who always steps up, holds it together, fills in the gaps, and delivers when no one else can. But here’s the problem—when things fall apart, you don’t just analyze what went wrong. You blame yourself.

And that pattern? It doesn’t just exist at work. It shows up in your relationships, your family, your parenting. Anywhere there's dysfunction or confusion, your first thought is, “What could I have done differently?”

Let’s break this down.

1. Responsibility vs. Blame: Know the Difference

There’s a difference between taking responsibility and taking blame. Responsibility says, “What’s within my control, and how can I learn from this?” Blame says, “If something went wrong, I must have screwed up.” And when you default to blame, you carry burdens that aren’t yours. You replay events in your head, thinking about what you could have said, what you should’ve predicted, what you failed to prevent—even when the entire system around you was chaotic and dysfunctional.

Just because you were the most competent person in the room doesn’t mean you were responsible for everything that went wrong. You can lead, you can guide, you can even warn people—but if they don’t listen, that’s not on you.

2. When Conditions Are Broken, the Outcome Is Predictable

Imagine this: you’re given a week to plan something that normally takes a month. The instructions change three times. The people above you override your calls. Your team resists structure. Then the whole thing gets pulled off just barely, and you walk away feeling like you failed.

Sound familiar?

Let’s be honest: even the best plans can’t save a broken process. If you're operating in an environment where direction changes daily and roles aren’t clearly defined, you’re not the problem. The process is. No amount of talent or personal sacrifice can fix a system that refuses to be consistent.

So instead of walking away asking, “Where did I go wrong?”, try asking, “What wasn’t mine to fix?”

3. Over-functioning Is a Trauma Response, Not a Leadership Skill

A lot of high performers grew up in families where they were expected to hold it together for everyone else. Maybe you were blamed unfairly. Maybe you were the peacekeeper, the fixer, or the achiever that brought your family pride. Whatever your role was, you learned that love and acceptance were conditional—based on how useful or “low maintenance” you were.

And now? You’re still trying to earn peace by over-functioning. You take ownership of things that aren’t yours. You internalize failure that isn’t yours. You absorb emotional chaos that doesn’t belong to you.

Let me be clear: over-functioning will not bring you peace. It will bring you resentment, burnout, and the slow erosion of your self-worth. Real leadership isn’t about carrying everything on your back. It’s about knowing what’s yours—and letting the rest go.

4. Stop Playing a Rigged Game

At home, in your partnerships, or as a parent, you may be stuck in cycles where you feel like you can’t win. You speak up, you're wrong. You stay quiet, you're wrong. You try to help, you're micromanaging. You step back, you're not supportive.

That’s not a relationship—that’s a rigged game. And the only way to stop playing is to name it and step out.

This doesn’t mean withdrawing emotionally or becoming passive. It means setting clear boundaries and letting people experience the consequences of their own decisions. If someone’s behavior keeps causing stress—but they refuse to change—then your job is to stop cushioning the impact for them.

Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is let someone struggle.

5. When People Show You the Rules, Believe Them

If someone constantly complains about their situation but won’t take action to change it, that tells you everything you need to know. They’re not looking for solutions—they’re looking for someone to hold the emotional bag.

Don’t hold the bag.

It’s not that you don’t care. It’s that you refuse to enable patterns that exhaust you and protect no one. You’re not a dumping ground for unresolved frustration. You're not the emotional sponge for people who won’t take accountability.

You can still love them. You can still listen with compassion. But when you find yourself being pulled into a cycle of helplessness, it’s okay to say, “I hear you. Let me know when you’re ready to do something about it.”

6. Change Doesn’t Happen Until You Step Back

This is hard to hear, but it’s true: as long as you keep stepping in to fix what others won’t fix, nothing changes.

Some people only grow when they have to. And sometimes, the only way to create space for someone else to grow is to stop saving them. Step back. Detach from the outcome. Let them feel the discomfort. Only then do they begin to realize what they’ve been doing, and what needs to shift.

Letting go doesn’t mean giving up—it means making space for change.

7. Redefine What It Means to Be Strong

Strength isn’t about being able to do everything. It’s about knowing what’s yours and protecting your peace fiercely. It’s about creating a new standard for how you show up—not just in work, but in your relationships.

Give yourself permission to say:

• “That’s not mine to carry.”

  
  

• “I did what I could with what I had.”

  
  

• “I don’t have to absorb other people’s dysfunction to prove my worth.”

You’re allowed to rest. You’re allowed to get it wrong sometimes. And you’re allowed to stop overcompensating for the people around you.

Here’s the bottom line:

If you’re the kind of person who always steps up, maybe now is the time to step back. Not because you’re failing—but because you finally understand that you don’t have to save everyone. That’s not your job. That’s not leadership. That’s self-sacrifice disguised as responsibility.

And you deserve better than that.

If this resonates with you, share it. Save it. Talk to someone about it. Especially if you've spent your life feeling like the one who has to “fix” things. Because the truth is: once you stop carrying what’s not yours, you’ll finally have the space to carry yourself—with grace, compassion, and clarity.