When You’re Taking Responsibility That Isn’t Yours
This week, I was listening to a voice memo from a very dear friend. We love sending each other these notes back and forth a few times a week, catching each other up and cheering each other on in the day-to-day details of work, aging parents, marriage, mothering, and being in our 50s.
She mentioned that she hadn’t heard much from her daughter, who she had dropped off at college about a month ago. There had been little updates here and there, but not the long, connected catch-ups they usually share.
And then she said something that hurt my heart a little:
“I’m racking my brain to figure out what I did wrong. It must have been something during move-in. I know we got a little snippy with each other, and I was stressed about where everything was going to go, as well as returning the rental van on time. It must be that.”
As I listened, I felt this ache travel from my heart to my belly. Her words landed hard because they were so familiar. I could hear myself in her voice. I could feel all the times I’ve said something nearly identical to myself.
All the times I’ve taken responsibility for something that wasn’t actually mine to take.
And how habituated that pattern can become.
Immediately, memories flooded in:
A client not getting back to me when they said they would about starting their coaching package. My first thought? It must be something I did wrong.
A misunderstanding with a family member. My first instinct? This is my fault.
Or even those moments of excitement when I can’t wait to share with my husband something I’ve created, anticipating the big, enthusiastic reaction I hope for… and instead I get a subdued, “That’s cool.” My brain jumps to: Oh no, I didn’t explain it right. Maybe I was confusing, unclear, or not excited enough. In other words, I was wrong.
His reaction didn’t meet my expectations. My fault.
A moment of misunderstanding. My fault.
The client didn’t call me back. My fault.
Do you do this too?
I think so many of us do.
We assume responsibility in ways that are often invisible, almost reflexive.
It’s a little cut every time. A subtle way of knocking ourselves down, diminishing ourselves.
And it’s exhausting.
The amount of time we spend analyzing, ruminating, and searching for the root of what we must have done wrong, only to realize that sometimes (most of the time), it isn’t us at all.
I do want to be clear: there is power in a quick scan for responsibility.
That moment of checking in to ask, “Do I have something to own here?” can be incredibly healing. Taking responsibility, apologizing, repairing—that is beautiful, courageous work.
But when the reflex to claim responsibility becomes our default setting, when every disappointment, every awkward moment, every unmet expectation gets pinned on us. That’s when it’s worth slowing down to see what else could be possible.
That’s when it could be time for a quick Responsibility Audit.
The Three-Step Responsibility Audit
The next time you notice yourself taking responsibility on autopilot, try this simple and effective process:
1. Pause and Name It.
Say out loud (or to yourself): “I’m taking responsibility for this.” Naming it creates awareness. It interrupts the automatic loop and gives you just enough distance for thoughtful evaluation.
2. Ask Why: Is this truly mine?
Run a quick scan: Why am I taking responsibility for this? Did I make a promise I didn’t keep? Did I directly contribute to this situation? Or is this about someone else’s choices, perceptions, or timing? Be honest—but be fair.
3. Choose a Response Aligned with Truth.
If it is yours: own it, apologize, have a conversation, repair, clear the air. Whatever feels best to you.
If it isn’t yours: release it. Remind yourself: Not everything belongs to me. You can still care deeply without carrying responsibility that isn’t yours.
For Reflection
Where in your life are you taking responsibility that doesn’t belong to you?
And what might shift this week if you released just one unnecessary weight you’ve been carrying?
With immense appreciation & gratitude. Always.
