Quotes About Self-blame

An increasingly large part of me believed that this was it, this was my life and it wasn't going to get better. The problem was me.

There was a sentence in your letter that struck me, "I wish I were far away from everything, I am the cause of all, and bring only sorrow to everybody, I alone have brought all this misery on myself and others." These words struck me because that same feeling, just the same, not more nor less, is also on my conscience.

It's rare that I hear the author blame the real culprit: themselves. It's hard to admit but it's the first step toward selling more books and understanding who bears the true responsibility for selling books—the author.

Fuck me. Fuck me for always getting into situations like this. Fuck me for caring. Fuck me for not knowing the words that would've made her stay. Fuck me for not knowing what I want. Fuck me for wavering. Fuck me for not kissing her back the right way. Fuck me for getting my hopes up. Fuck me for not having more realistic hopes. Fuck me for giving her my fucking jacket. Fuck.

Something my shrink once said bubbled up from memory: believing that everything is your fault is like saying the world revolves around you and that is pure narcissism and no less destructive.

it's easy to blame everyone else when it hurts to blame yourself. But in the end you have to face it.

You are not the best person to talk to you about you right now. There is a difference, I point out to them, between self- blame and self-responsibility, which is a corollary to something Jack Kornfield said: 'A second quality of mature spirituality is kindness. It is based on a fundamental notion of self-acceptance.

These people feel guilty because they believe that they have failed in some way. However, they usually accept everything as a guilt trip in one way or another because it's another way to make themselves wrong.

You never do anything right." "It's all your fault." How often have you said this to yourself? "You are wonderful." "I love you." How often do you tell yourself this?

Não é dos outros, caro Brutos, a culpa, mas de nós mesmos, se nos rebaixamos ao papel de instrumentos» - in Julio Cesar de William Shakespeare

If Dr. Allenby thought she had any concept of what guilt was, then she was fooling herself. Guilt was what kept you awake in the middle of the night or, if you managed to sleep, poisoned your dreams. Guilt intruded upon any happy moment, whispering in your ear that you had no right to pleasure. Guilt followed you down streets, interrupting the most mundane moments with remembrances of days and hours when you could have done something to prevent tragedy but chose to do nothing.

I dont hate you for leaving me but myself for letting you go.

When you are mad at yourself, you are mad at everybody.

Clearly something had gone wrong, badly, only I wasn't quite sure what—apart from knowing that I was responsible somehow, in the generalized miasma of shame and unworthiness and being-a-burden that never quite left me.

It's tricky being shy. You blame yourself for it, and other people blame you too.

with himself for getting so drunk the

but there was no wound she could give me that i had nit already given myself

A man assumes that her sudden change of mood is based solely on his behavior. When she is happy he takes credit, but when she is unhappy he also feels responsible. He may feel extremely frustrated because he doesn't know how to make things better. One minute she seems happy, and so he believes he is doing a good job and then the next minute she is unhappy. He is shocked because he thought he was doing so well.

I'm stupid...but I guess it's my fault to think we could ever be more than just friends.

Depression is good at making you think it's not even there and that you are the problem. Depression wants you to think you made a choice to be this way.

Momma tried to raise me better, but her pleading I denied, and that leaves only me to blame, cause Momma tried.

I don't want to see anyone. I lie in the bedroom with the curtains drawn and nothingness washing over me like a sluggish wave. Whatever is happening to me is my own fault. I have done something wrong, something so huge I can't even see it, something that's drowning me. I am inadequate and stupid, without worth. I might as well be dead.

I don't want to see anyone. I lie in the bedroom with the curtains drawn and nothingness washing over me like a sluggish wave. Whatever is happening to me is my own fault. I have done something wrong, something so huge I can't even see it, something that's drowning me. I am inadequate and stupid, without worth. I might as well be dead.

Når jeg så prøvede på at forstå, hvad der skete, lykkedes det mig aldrig, fordi jeg havde visket 'forbudt af mor', 'forstødt af mor', ud og skrevet 'skyldig', 'gal' i stedet for. Jeg var gal, det var den eneste forklaring, jeg kunne give på det.