The Language of Self-Responsibility

A communication practice for people who are tired of proving, defending, fixing, and “winning” conversations… and who secretly want to feel more free inside their own words.

There’s a specific kind of exhaustion that comes from talking.

Not from the amount of words… but from the energy behind them.
The subtle tension.
The invisible armor.
The “please understand me” desperation disguised as being “direct.”
The passive tug-of-war that turns two humans into two attorneys fighting for custody of reality.

And if you’ve been there, you know the feeling:

You’re not “communicating.”
You’re surviving.
You’re trying to make sure you’re seen.
Trying to make sure you’re safe.
Trying to make sure you’re not misunderstood.
Trying to make sure your truth lands in their nervous system the way it lands in yours.

And this is where Brick Three comes in.

The language of self-responsibility.

Not as a cute communication trick.
Not as a “be more mindful” poster you hang in the hallway.
But as a radical shift in the ownership of your inner world.

Because self-responsibility isn’t just what you say.
It’s the energetic posture you bring into the room.

It’s the moment you stop speaking like you’re holding a sword, and start speaking like you’re holding a mirror.

The Soil Beneath Your Words

Before we even get into “technique,” I want to point to something most people skip.

Most conversations don’t break down because someone used the wrong phrase.

They break down because the agenda beneath the phrase is loud.

That hidden agenda might sound like:

• “Please validate me.”

• “Please admit you’re wrong.”

• “Please don’t leave me.”

• “Please make my feelings make sense.”

• “Please become who I need you to be so I can finally relax.”

And the tricky part is…
we’re often not aware we’re doing it.

In my experience, the less integrative work we’ve done, the more likely we are to carry an unconscious agenda into conversation.

And other people can feel that.

Maybe not intellectually.
But somatically.

They can feel the pressure in your words.

Even if your words are polite.
Even if your tone is calm.
Even if you’ve got the “correct language.”

Hidden intention tells the truth first.

The Distortion Principle (Yes, I’m Being Serious 😄)

One of the most useful perspectives I’ve ever played with is this:

Your reality is distorted.

Mine too.

In fact… if you want to get bold with it:

99.9% distortion.

And no, I’m not saying reality is fake.
I’m saying the way we experience reality is filtered through a lens:

Your past.
Your values.
Your triggers.
Your nervous system.
Your memories.
Your interpretations.
Your fears.
Your hopes.
Your wounds.
Your expectations.
Your senses… which are already limited and interpretive.

So what you experience isn’t “the absolute truth.”

It’s your truth.
Your version.
Your perception.

And this matters because communication collapses fastest when we speak like we’re holding the absolute truth.

There is almost nothing quicker to suffocate connection than:

• “This is how it is.”

• “That’s not true.”

• “You always…”

• “You never…”

• “Obviously…”

• “Everyone knows…”

Absolutes are seductive because they feel powerful.
But they are often just fear wearing a crown.

And when you speak in absolutes, what you’re really saying is:

“My distortion is the standard you must submit to.”

That’s not communication.

That’s conquest.

Why This Helps You Relax

If you can truly hold the idea that your lens is distorted… something softens.

You stop needing to prove so much.

You stop needing to defend so violently.

You stop needing to recruit other people into your story so you can feel safe inside it.

You start to realize:

“I don’t know the absolute truth.
I know what I experienced.”

And that subtle shift creates room.

Room for humility.
Room for curiosity.
Room for nervous systems to unclench.

It allows you to hear someone else without needing to defeat them.

And suddenly you can say things like:

“I get why you see it that way.”

Not because you agree.
But because you understand that their distortion has roots too.

Their politics.
Their beliefs.
Their opinions about vaccines, quarantine, health, money, relationships, parenting, spirituality… all of it…

It’s shaped by their experiences.

Just like yours is shaped by yours.

And when you respect that…

You don’t need to convert them.

You can simply meet them.

Blame Is a Push

Here’s a simple metaphor:

Blame, projection, and “telling people how it is” is a shove.

Even a small shove.

If I lightly push you, your body has to brace.
You don’t get a choice.

Your muscles engage to prevent you from falling.

This is what happens emotionally too.

When someone is blamed, corrected, shamed, or told…

Their system braces.

Defensiveness turns on automatically.

And defensiveness comes in two popular flavors:

• Passive defense (shutting down, appeasing, freezing, going quiet)

• Aggressive defense (arguing, attacking, escalating)

And the wild part is:

Most people don’t realize they’re “pushing” others with their words.

They think they’re being honest.

But honesty without ownership often becomes control.

The Practice: Owning Your Experience

This is why I teach a language pattern that seems simple but is actually transformational:

Own what you’re experiencing.

Instead of:

“You make me feel ignored.”

Try:

“In my experience, I’m feeling ignored right now.”

Instead of:

“You’re never there for me.”

Try:

“In my experience, I’m noticing fear come up that I’m alone in this.”

Instead of:

“You always do this.”

Try:

“My mind is telling a story that this is a pattern, and I want to slow down and check if that’s true.”

When you speak this way, you’re doing something huge:

You’re pulling your power back from the external world and returning it to yourself.

You’re saying:

“This is what’s happening inside of me… and I’m willing to be responsible for it.”

That doesn’t mean you don’t have needs.
That doesn’t mean behavior doesn’t matter.
That doesn’t mean boundaries disappear.

It means you’re no longer outsourcing your inner state to someone else’s actions.

“You’re Not Responsible for How I Feel” (And Neither Am I for Yours)

One of the most liberating phrases in my life has been:

“You’re not responsible for how I feel.”

And I say it out loud, not to be polite, but to remind myself.

Because when I don’t remind myself… I can unconsciously make other people responsible for stabilizing my nervous system.

That’s the old game.

And it sneaks in quietly.

“I’m responsible for how I feel when you hold my hand.”
“I’m responsible for how I feel when you don’t.”
“I’m responsible for how I feel when you call.”
“I’m responsible for how I feel when you don’t.”
“I’m responsible for what I make it mean.”

This is self-responsibility.

And a side note that matters:

You are responsible for your words and your tone.
You are responsible for your energy.
You are responsible for your honesty.

But you are not responsible for how someone interprets your words through theirdistortion lens.

That part is theirs.

A lot of people get into “conscious communication” believing:

“If I say it perfectly, nobody will get triggered.”

That’s adorable.

And also… not real.

In my experience, some people get more threatened when you take responsibility for yourself.

Because your self-responsibility quietly removes their favorite role:

rescuer.

And many people have built their identity around being needed.

So when you stop being needy in the old way…
they can feel abandoned.

Even if you’re more grounded than ever.

Respect vs Loyalty

This part matters deeply.

I have friends with opinions that are wildly different from mine.

On politics.
On Covid.
On vaccines.
On quarantine.
On how to live.

And we’re still friends.

Why?

Because I’m not loyal to people out of fear.

I respect people enough to represent myself fully.

And I want the people in my life to respect me enough to represent themselves fully too.

Respect, for me, looks like:

We can disagree… and still love each other.
We can disagree… and still be friends.
We can disagree… and still be intimate.

That’s not weakness.

That’s emotional maturity.

And I believe this:

I cannot offer someone else what I don’t offer myself.

If I don’t respect my own experience, I will struggle to respect yours.
If I don’t allow my own truth, I will want to control yours.
If I am ashamed of my perspective, I will punish you for having yours.

So the practice of respecting others starts with self-respect.

Not ego respect.

Self-respect.

The kind that says:

“I’m allowed to exist as I am.”

The “You” Statement That Doesn’t Punch

“You” statements aren’t evil.

But they’re high-risk.

Because “you” often sounds like a verdict.

So here’s a game:

Put self-responsibility before “you.”

Instead of:

“You never show up.”

Try:

“In my experience, I’ve noticed moments where you don’t show up the way I expect, and I don’t know if I’m seeing it clearly.”

And then add the magic ingredient:

curiosity.

“Is that true for you?”
“How do you experience it?”
“Can you say more?”
“Do you notice this pattern?”
“Am I missing something?”

You can still be direct.
But direct doesn’t have to be violent.

You can still address behavior.
But you don’t have to wrap it in blame to make it land.

Your Stories Are Self-Food 🍽️

Here’s one of the most powerful aspects of self-responsibility:

It turns your projections into data.

Instead of “they’re the problem,” you start asking:

“What does this story say about me?”

Your reactions become information.

Your judgments become clues.

Your triggers become doorways.

If you want a master-level practice:

When you feel reactive, ask:

“What part of me is talking right now?”
“How old is that part?”
“What did that part learn about the world?”
“What is it afraid will happen?”
“What is it trying to protect me from?”

Because in my experience…

When you are your most reactive, you are rarely your age.

You’re an earlier version of you holding the steering wheel with two sweaty hands, yelling:

“WE’RE NOT SAFE!”

Self-responsibility isn’t suppression.

It’s awareness.

It’s learning to meet the reactive part with presence instead of letting it run your mouth like a drunk DJ.

Slow Down: The Speed of Awareness

If you want one practical tool from this entire Brick:

Slow down.

Slow down your words.
Slow down your interpretations.
Slow down your reactions.

Not to become “nice.”
Not to become “perfect.”

But to become aware.

Because blame is fast.
Projection is fast.
Telling people what to do is fast.

Self-responsibility takes time.

It takes breath.

It takes the willingness to feel the discomfort of not being instantly right.

So instead of shaming yourself for blaming or projecting…

Celebrate that you noticed.

That’s courage.

The change process can be slow and methodical.

And it’s allowed to be.

A Closing Invitation

What if self-responsibility is not a rule…
but a form of freedom?

What if the goal is not to control how other people experience life,
but to respect them enough to let them have their experience…

while you keep learning to have yours?

What if the most compassionate communication isn’t soft words…

but truthful words with ownership?

And what if the great secret here is this:

When you stop needing people to see the world your way…

you finally have the energy to meet them in theirs.

Reflection Questions (For the brave and curious)

• Where in my life do I speak in absolutes?

• Where do I secretly need to be right in order to feel safe?

• Where do I use blame as a way to avoid feeling my deeper emotion?

• What hidden agenda am I carrying into my conversations?

• What stories do I repeatedly tell about others… and what do those stories reveal about me?

• When I’m reactive, how old am I?

• What would it look like to say, “In my experience…” before I speak?

Thank you for being here.
Thank you for playing with these ideas.
Thank you for being willing to explore yourself through the way you speak.

See you next time, friends.

👽