We’re narrative creatures, believing stories over facts. We think these stories go in straight lines. This caused that, which resulted in this. We crave these clean-cut explanations like the air we breathe. Reasoning our ways into our nice clearly defined roles. But sometimes gigantic holes get blown through these neat storylines and leave us grasping at anything that makes us feel secure again.
This is when we reach for an ugly byproduct of this narrative based reasoning, blame. Blame is one of the primary tools we deploy in order to keep these agreeable story lines going. Blame makes us feel safe. Blame manipulates us into thinking we have to understand it all.
I have a hard time truly “letting go of blame”. I’ve found that when I try and “let go of blame” what I actually end up doing is just blaming myself. I try not to blame anything external, because that’s a sign of weakness, right? So the only place it has left to go is on my shoulders. It’s not intentional, like I’m directly lambasting myself “I BLAME YOU”. It’s a very subtle feeling that happens unconsciously.
For some reason, although I know it isn’t true, a part of me believes that this cancer, and all the hardship that’s come with it, is my fault. That this is my karma coming back around to get me. That I did something to deserve this suffering. And it’s hard to convince this self of the fact that the CML is a random occurrence and I played literally zero part in it’s happening. This is the downside of an internal locus of control.
Recently, though, I realized that having somewhere to put the blame, even if it’s on myself, is a control mechanism. In a way, it seems to make coping easier, it allows me to feel like I have more control over the situation and therefore can do something about it. In this case it’s the thought process, “Well if I’m causing myself to feel this way, then I can somehow fix it.” vs. “this is just how it’s going to be now”.
Blame eases the psychological panic the brain experiences when these giant holes get blown in our storylines. But what’s the cost? Is the tension worth always having a scapegoat?
I just finished re-watching The Leftovers for a second time. I love this show because everyone is just squirming the entire time. At it’s core, it’s a show about coping with mystery and loss. It’s about observing the different ways people try to fill their lives back up after a previously inconceivable event happens.
Whether it’s joining a nihilistic cult, believing a town was spared by God or learning an aborigines rain dance to prevent the apocalypse, the characters coped in some seemingly ridiculous ways. Every single character had a hole blown in their lives on the day of the sudden departure, so given the context, I can understand why these seemed reasonable.
It’s insanely hard to grapple with “these things just happen”. It’s much easier to assign a singular blame, whether external or internal. But the cost of doing that is becoming too great for my psyche. So something I’m trying to work on is giving myself the benefit of the doubt. Taking the whole situation into account and not just honing in on my seemingly faulty character. Because contextually speaking, when I add it all up, my situation is pretty damn hard and I’m able to make it sweet a lot of the time. But the bitterness of blame is clogging up that stream of sweetness.
At the end of the day it’s a lesson in forgoing control, because I think that’s what blame really is. Maybe the “answer” is these holes aren’t meant to be filled in. Maybe they’re meant to be honored and loved regardless of understanding. Who made that rule anyway? That we have to understand why something happened in order to be okay with it and move on. I call bullshit.
At the very end of The Leftovers, Kevin says one simple thing to Nora, “I believe you”. And I think that’s all we really need. Wholesome connection with others and appreciation for the mysteries of life.
I love how deep you’re digging Casey! I’ve been reaching deeper points while out of commission for a few weeks with my leg injury, so I can only imagine how far your thoughts have unraveled during your process coping with cancer. I think there is purpose in everything. You are turning your adversity into philosophy and sharing this wisdom with so many people. Way to go man!!! Much love -Frank
Frank, my man! First off, really appreciate you reading. Second off, agreed that their is purpose in everything, it’s up to us to find it. And third off, wishing you well on your recovery. Sounds like it’s generated some deeper perspective for ya, which is always a good thing, although it may not feel that way in the moment.
-Peace and Love, Casey