...and blame isn't universally bad or wrong, and it's something we are often shamed for.

[this is a long one]

Remember the conversation I had 20-ish years ago with my father-in-law, who was a soft-spoken, unassuming, wise Lutheran pastor originally from Canada?

If you're new to my world, here it is (and if you know this story, there's a new twist):

I was telling him about the difficult relationship I had with my mother and what I might do to make it better (i.e., have an honest conversation where we listened to each other and didn't get defensive). He listened patiently and replied – quietly, simply, and with that Canadian lilt I will always associate with him:
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​​“Good luck with that.”​

I remember thinking how…un-pastor-like his response was. I expected a lesson in forgiveness and what I got instead was a dose of reality based on his decades of watching family dynamics play out in various congregations.

Eventually I understood what he was saying on a deeper level:

When two people don't feel safe with themselves or each other (and aren't aware of it) it's near impossible to have an honest conversation where they listen to each other and didn't get defensive (honest conflict versus dishonest harmony).

As far as I could see, there wasn't a way to tell her that her words and behavior were hurtful that would give me what I wanted: a guarantee that she would hear me, see me, and respond to me with consideration, rather than reacting with some combination of cruelty, hurt, rage, the silent treatment, passive-aggressiveness, etc.

I was reminded of this story while chatting with client recently who said, "I owe it to myself to say something to my mother. I want her to know I am not blaming her and I also want her to know how her behavior impacted me. For much of my life I've felt unseen and unworthy."

She understood that her mother's behavior is the result of her own unhealed and acknowledged trauma and shame and that she didn't have the resources to do that kind of work. We were talking about the best way to approach it because, as she put it:

"My mother smells blame in the air like a shark smells blood in the water."

She didn't want to blame her mother but she was afraid that her mother would perceive what she wanted to say as blame.

I didn't say "Good luck with that."

We talked about the difference between naming and blaming.

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Naming is the process of recognizing an experience as harmful or injurious.

Blaming is the subsequent step of attributing fault for that harm or injury to someone else.

Blame can be justified, especially in the moment. It can help us discern where accountability lies.

It can also keep us stuck in a tense loop of constant searching, seeking, and finger pointing because we want to make sense of something. We want to know "why."

And when the "why" isn't apparent or clear or doesn't make sense, we shift the blame to ourselves.

Knowing why can be helpful but knowing all by itself doesn't always bring us peace.

Naming/witnessing our actual experience (without shame) can bring us closer to the peace we want, than what we now understand about it or how we explain it.

You can name without blame. And your mother still might not react the way you want her to.

Naming what shaped you isn’t the same as blaming your mother or turning her into a villain.
It’s about understanding the blueprint you were handed, and realizing you don’t have to keep building from it.
You can name what was missing. You can name what hurt. You can name what shaped you.
At some point, healing becomes less about what happened back then, and more about what you want to do with that awareness now. Because once you understand where something came from, you get to choose who you want to be from here.
That’s not blame. That’s growth. ~ Nadia Addesi

~~~

So back to my client: I asked her how she wanted to feel after her conversation with her mother.

"I want to be proud of myself," she said.

I asked if being proud of herself was dependent on whether or not she was able to have this conversation "perfectly" so that her mother wouldn't melt down in defensiveness.

She replied that she was hoping for just the merest glimmer of understanding.

I then asked her how she would know that's what she was getting and she said she'd know by her mother's body language and facial expression.

In the end, she felt proud and she got that merest glimmer of understanding...and it was enough for her.

~~~

Some of us don't get that. So we blame ourselves.

Some of us aren't able to talk with our mothers in this way. And we blame ourselves.

Some of us try and our mothers remain defensive. And we blame ourselves.

~~~

Here's the thing: generational trauma and shame are not inherently personal.

The degree to which our mothers are or were aware of it varies greatly.

We're more aware.

We want to talk about our experiences. To be witnessed with compassion rather than pity (shame).

Not pathologized or villainized.

Speaking the truth sets everyone free.

And if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that the "truth" will never make you suffer. If you're suffering, you're not telling yourself the truth.

Much, much love,

Karen

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