Alright, so you wanna know how I do it? How I really get down to the nitty-gritty of pointin’ the finger right back at myself? It ain’t some neat, tidy little trick you pull out of a hat, lemme tell ya. It’s more like wrestling a damn alligator in a swamp. Messy, exhausting, and you’re gonna get bit a few times.
For years, I was the king of blaming everyone else. If a project went south, it was the team’s fault, the client’s stupid demands, the weather, Mercury in retrograde – you name it, I blamed it. My life felt like a series of unfortunate events orchestrated by a universe that just had it out for me. I was always the victim, always the one hard-done-by. And man, was I miserable. It’s a heavy damn cloak to wear, that victimhood thing.
Then came the big one. A real spectacular flameout. I was workin’ on this thing, poured my heart into it, or so I thought. And it just imploded. Lost a chunk of money, lost some respect, and almost lost a very good friend over it. My first instinct? Point fingers. And I did. I had a whole damn list of who screwed up. Felt good for about five minutes.
The Ugly Look in the Mirror
But then, something snapped. Or maybe I just got tired of my own BS. I was sittin’ there, stewin’ in my own bitter juices, and it hit me. Hard. What if, just what if, the main dude who messed this whole thing up… was me? It was like a punch to the gut. Didn’t wanna believe it, fought it like hell. But the thought just wouldn’t go away.
So, I started. Real slow. I had to force myself to rewind everything, not how I wanted to remember it, but how it actually went down. This was my “fingering myself” process, if you wanna call it that. It wasn’t about feelin’ sorry for myself. It was about findin’ the damn truth, however ugly.
I remember actually grabbing a notepad, old school, and started listin’ stuff. It was brutal. Here’s a taste of what I had to swallow:
- My ego was outta control: I thought I knew best, didn’t listen to feedback, steamrolled over people. Yeah, that was me.
- I cut corners: Chased the quick win instead of doin’ the solid groundwork. Came back to bite me, big time.
- Poor communication: Kept people in the dark, made assumptions. Classic recipe for disaster.
- Fear of lookin’ weak: Wouldn’t ask for help when I was drownin’. Stupid, stupid pride.
Each point was like pullin’ a rusty nail out of my hide. It hurt. There were days I just wanted to chuck the notepad and go back to my blame game. It’s easier, you know? But I kept at it. Bit by bit. Had to own my crap. All of it.
And you know what? Once I got through the worst of it, once I really, truly looked at my own damn part in the mess, somethin’ shifted. The anger started to fade. The bitterness eased up. It wasn’t about flagellatin’ myself, it was about understandin’. It was about finally seein’ the pattern.
It’s not like I’m magically “fixed” now. Hell no. It’s an ongoing practice, this self-finger-pointin’. I still catch myself wantin’ to blame the dog when I trip over my own feet, metaphorically speakin’. But now, I’ve got that little voice, that annoying, persistent voice that says, “Hey, buddy, before you go pointin’ outwards, maybe take a good, hard look inwards first.” And most days, I listen. It’s still not fun, but it’s a damn sight better than livin’ a lie and wonderin’ why everything always goes wrong.
