How to take responsibility without falling into shame

There are moments within our relationships where we feel our stomach drop or a nervous flutter in our gut, and if we’re honest with ourselves, we recognise that feeling as shame. That quiet, insidious voice telling us we’re not enough, that we’ve failed, or that we should have handled things differently. Unlike guilt, which is simply a signal saying, “Yeah, I messed up. I can do my best to make this right,” shame attacks the self. It convinces us that we are fundamentally flawed, unworthy, or incapable of connection. And when shame moves in, we stop being present and we stop listening. Instead, we retreat into protection, defensiveness, or overcompensation. We shrink, we justify, we over-explain, and we over-apologise.

I felt this clearly a few years back, when a beautiful friend of mine who had recently become a mum. My family and I had been travelling around New Zealand, living on the road, and we were in our hometown visiting family because my father-in-law was unwell. I knew my friend was struggling a little, but I didn’t make the time to pop in and see her.

Later, after we’d left town again, she messaged me and gently shared that while she understood, she was a little disappointed that I couldn’t spare even half an hour. She shared that it would have been nice just to see me… it wasn’t about meeting her kids, but to feel my presence and support as her friend.

The moment I read her message, I felt that familiar drop in my gut. My first instinct was to defend myself… I went straight into justifying my (lack of) actions. I wanted to explain why I hadn’t visited and why my priorities were what they were. This was guilt and shame blending together; guilt, because I recognised I could have done better, and shame, because I started telling myself I was a bad friend for not being there. I could feel the panic and heaviness.

But before I replied with any of this, I paused. I reminded myself that both of our experiences could be true at the same time… I was dealing with my own challenges, and my friend’s disappointment was also real and valid. I didn’t have to collapse under the weight of shame, or try to fix everything instantly. Instead, I could take responsibility for what was mine—my actions, my words, my willingness to listen and repair—without taking on the blame for her feelings or making myself small.

So I sat with the feeling, acknowledged it, and considered my next move carefully. When I finally replied, I did so from a place of clarity and presence. I told her I was sorry, and that I could absolutely understand her feelings. I shared how I was grateful for her honesty and willingness to bring this conversation up, and promised to make more of an effort in the future. She thanked me too, and that was it. No lingering shame, no overcompensation trying to ‘make it up to her’… just mutual understanding and reconnection.

Guilt is a helpful signal; it tells us where we can act and repair. However, shame is unnecessary suffering; it keeps us small and disconnected. Recognising the difference allows us to respond with integrity, instead of fear.

When we take responsibility for our part without shrinking into self-condemnation, we create space for genuine connection. We can show up fully, listen deeply, and communicate clearly - even when the other person’s feelings or reactions are intense, unexpected, or imperfect.

Responsibility doesn’t mean over-functioning, people-pleasing, or trying to control the other person’s experience. It means noticing what is ours to own: our tone, our words, our willingness to listen, our boundaries, and our ability to stay present. When we take this stance, we can engage in conversation without falling into shame or reactivity. And sometimes, just sometimes, doing so reveals where responsibility truly lies for the other person, too.

Staying grounded during these moments requires self-awareness and a gentle pause. When shame begins to creep in (the urge to justify, over-apologise, or shrink) we can pause, take a breath, and take our time. From this calm space, we can return with clarity, curiosity, and compassion - not only for the other person, but for ourselves.

When we learn to respond from responsibility rather than shame, we free ourselves from suffering, build trust in our own words and actions, and invite others into real, meaningful connection. And that, ultimately, is the art of communication in any relationship: knowing that we can honour both ourselves and the people we care about, without sacrificing one for the other.

Written with love,
Brydie

Reflection prompts:
1. When I feel shame arise in a relationship, what do I usually do next - do I defend, over-explain, apologise, or withdraw?

2.When I notice the urge to fix, smooth over, or make things better quickly, what am I afraid might happen if I don’t?

3.When I have responded with clarity rather than shame in the past, what helped me stay grounded and present in that moment?

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