29/09/2026
A very interesting read. Written by Mick Ryan a guy I trained with a few years ago now ( Solar Sound Healing)
Why is it that nearly every relationship reel on Instagram or Facebook focuses on identifying how the other person is pathological, narcissistic, avoidant, or manipulative? It is almost impossible to find content about owning your own end of the dynamic.
Blaming someone else is simply more popular than taking responsibility, and social media algorithms are built to capitalise on that preference. Once you engage with content about being wronged, the algorithm keeps feeding you more of the same—reinforcing a victim mentality and constantly justifying your feeling hurt.
The trap in this loop is that true healing never relies on the other person taking accountability.
True healing only happens when I take responsibility for my own part.
Placing this principle at the center changes everything: taking responsibility isn't a burden or a concession, but a path to empowerment, growth, and genuine recovery. This doesn't mean taking responsibility for someone else’s behavior or blaming yourself for being mistreated. It means being willing to look honestly at your own behavior, your own wounds, and your own contribution to the dynamic.
This is where relationship acts as a magic mirror. If you are triggered by someone, chances are there is something worth looking at in yourself. You may even be running your energy in a similar way, just in polarity:
* They take too much; you give too much.
* They pursue; you withdraw.
* They control; you accommodate.
* They demand; you rescue.
Ironically, giving too much can be a subtle form of control. By stepping in to over-function, you deny the other person the opportunity to step up, take responsibility, and grow. It seems noble, but it allows you to adopt the role of the martyr while framing them as taking advantage of you.
That isn't to say the other person hasn't behaved badly. They may well have, but that is their work to own and heal if they choose to.
This is where we need to be careful with the word abuse. In everyday relationship conflicts, partners frequently alternate roles—playing the abuser, victim, and rescuer depending on the time of day or whose turn it is to do the dishes.
Two otherwise kind and caring people can get caught in patterns that are hurtful, controlling, or manipulative without either person actually intending to be an abuser.
There is a vital distinction between inadvertently acting in hurtful ways because we are operating from our own wounds, and deliberately, willfully abusing someone. Acknowledging this distinction doesn't minimise the pain, excuse bad behavior, or mean someone should stay in a situation that is harming them. But intent matters when trying to understand what is actually happening: it is the difference between an abusive relationship and a mutually hurtful one.
When neither party is willing to look at their contribution, relationships devolve into power struggles. We build value systems designed to protect our fragile sense of self at the expense of honesty, ensuring we remain the hero in our own story. But what if neither party is fundamentally to blame? What if both people are simply acting out of trauma, trying to protect a wounded part of themselves from getting hurt even more?
Deep down, we don't even want to hurt each other. But when a partner highlights a vulnerability we haven't been willing to see clearly, our carefully constructed self-image feels threatened. Fearful that they will take advantage of that vulnerability, we go on the defensive—or offensive—highlighting their weaknesses to deflect from our own.
People can love while wounded, but they cannot love from the wounded part of themselves. We love from our healthier, healed parts. When those parts aren't accessible, gaps appear in the love we are able to give, which then trigger the wounded parts of our partner. Love alone doesn't magically heal past wounds, but our healed parts can be well enough to extend compassion to the wounded parts of our partner and forgive from that place.
When we feel attacked by our partner, what hurts most isn't just feeling like they don't love us. It's that they are shining a light on the parts of ourselves that we don't love, accept, or deem worthy.
Because of this, the starting point for genuine resolution isn't demanding an apology—it is self-love, self-compassion, and self-forgiveness. It begins with an internal release:
"Yes, I’ve done wrong, but I didn’t mean to. Yes, you’ve wronged me, but you acted out of your own pain. I forgive myself for my end of it, and I’m sorry for my end of it. It’s time to let it go."
Forgiveness means acknowledging: "I’m sorry for the trauma and hurt you experienced that made it feel like you needed to respond that way, and I’m sorry my hurt made me act in a way that triggered yours."
This isn't excusing harmful behavior. It is taking responsibility for your part without taking responsibility for theirs, recognising that your part is the only variable you actually have the power to change. You do not need the other person to own their share before you are allowed to heal yours.
Which brings us full circle back to those endless feeds on Facebook, YouTube, and Instagram.
Do yourself a favor: stop looking for relationship answers in an echo chamber designed to amplify your sense of victimhood and fuel your anxiety.
The algorithm doesn't care whether you heal or simply become better at explaining why you are right. It will happily keep feeding you content that confirms your version of the story until you become so invested in understanding how the other person is broken that you never stop to ask what your own behavior is telling you.
The scars of righteousness are the hardest to heal. To err is human, to forgive divine—and sometimes, there is profound truth in the cliché.
