
Blame + Shame Games
Let The Circle Be Broken...By And By, Lord, By And Bye!
Yesterday, two amazing, kind, and patient plumbers replaced most of the original, rusted-out plumbing in the house I’ve rented for the past decade. They just returned to finish the rest... and I couldn’t be happier to have them on the job.
My rental is a small, modest home. It looks much younger than its actual age. Not that 71 is old by any stretch, but galvanized steel plumbing just doesn’t hold up to the test of time like it used to.
All the DIY tips and tricks I tried a couple of weeks ago probably didn’t hurt anything, but they certainly didn’t address the real root of the problem.
So, why didn’t I call the plumbers sooner? Let’s just say I learned early how blame and shame games were played—and I have never stopped to question whether they were fair or even necessary.
Growing up in a family where anything that broke was always considered someone’s fault, I learned I was usually going to be blamed. Regardless of age or circumstance, there was always a guilty party. No matter how minor the issue—whether a leaky pipe or a broken toy—someone had to be blamed.
As the only child in the house, I usually found myself in the hot seat, even if it wasn’t my fault. Even if my dad had tried—and failed—to fix it, only to make things worse.
Now, you might be wondering: why does this matter in the grand scheme of getting my plumbing fixed? It matters because these early lessons in blame shaped how I approach the world and react to problems—big and/or small.
For years, I carried a heavy burden of shame that was directly tied to any failure, technical glitch, or broken item. If something went wrong, it was because I did something wrong. I was always the one who “touched it last.”
SHAME IS HARD TO SHAKE
If you grew up in a family like mine, you know exactly what it’s like. Blame and shame can be powerful forces. They’re like emotional quicksand that pull you deeper with each mistake, misstep, or failure.
Growing up in Dallas, Texas, years after JFK’s assassination, I had so much shame, most assumed I was raised Catholic or Jewish. Nope. My mom was a “backsliding” Baptist and my dad was an agnostic who read the Bible as literature.
And my hometown wore a permanent stain of blame and shame, and we, its residents, inherited that stain.
You could feel it in the air—like a collective weight pressing down on every soul who called it home. The legacy of blame and shame was passed down. Many were all too eager to self-flagellate, pointing fingers to make sure everyone knew exactly who had screwed up.
But here’s the kicker: even though we were conditioned to feel shame for every misstep, deep down, it was clear we were all just trying to make sense of things we couldn’t fully understand.
Whether in my family or in the city itself, blame became a coping mechanism—and shame a way to punish ourselves for things that happened before some of us were even born. Original Sin, much?
BREAKING THE CYCLE
So why didn’t I call the plumbers sooner? Because, on some level, I kept thinking I could fix it myself. I thought that if I just tried harder or researched a little more, I’d get it right. I could handle the pipes and the leaks on my own.
It’s the same thinking I carried through life—this idea that I should be able to figure everything out by myself, and that asking for help or admitting I needed help would somehow mean I wasn’t good enough.
But here’s the truth: no one can do it alone all the time. And sometimes, things break. And sometimes, it’s not about assigning blame. It’s about accepting that things happen, that failure is a part of life, and that asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness—it’s a sign of strength. It’s a sign of being human.
In the end, the plumbers did in hours what I couldn’t in weeks. They replaced the old, clogged, rusted pipes that had been there for years. And it was okay. There was no shame in that. My landlord has been nothing but supportive, reminding me it’s part of her job to handle these things—while also being thankful I tried to be proactive and found a reputable company to manage the situation for us both.
I’m also super thankful she’s agreed to pick up the costly tab. A truly lovely lady…
For me, the real lesson isn’t about fixing pipes. It’s about breaking the cycles of blame and shame that have held me back for so long. It’s about learning to break the cycle.
So let the circle be broken, by and by, Lord, by and bye!
I don’t have to live in a world of blame and shame. I don’t have to carry the weight of every failure on my shoulders. By releasing myself from the need to assign blame, I free myself to move forward, fix what’s broken, and accept that sometimes, I need a little help along the way.
And maybe—just maybe—if I learn to let go of the blame and shame game, I can start building a better, healthier life. Project Lite-Brite continues…
Thanks for reading!
Clint 🌈✌️
ON THIS DAY = FEBRUARY 21
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1804 = The world’s first steam locomotive, built by Richard Trevithick, runs for the first time along the tramway of the Penydarren Ironworks in Merthyr Tydfil, Wales
1842 = John Greenough is granted the first U.S. patent for the sewing machine.
1896 = An Englishman raised in Australia, Bob Fitzsimmons, fought an Irishman, Peter Maher, in an American promoted event which technically took place in Mexico, winning the 1896 World Heavyweight Championship in boxing.
1903 = NYPD conducts the first recorded raid on a gay bathhouse in the US, the Ariston Hotel Baths, which had been in operation since 1897. Twenty-six men are arrested and 12 are brought to trial on sodomy charges; seven men receive sentences ranging from 4 to 20 years in prison.
1925 = The New Yorker publishes its first issue.
1947 = Edwin Land demonstrates the first "instant camera", the Polaroid Land Camera, to a meeting of the Optical Society of America.
1958 = The CND symbol, aka peace symbol, commissioned by the Direct Action Committee in protest against the Atomic Weapons Research Establishment, is designed and completed by Gerald Holtom.
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Oh, the blame and shame game is familiar to me. Growing up as a queer kid in the '50s helped form my perfectionist self. I can only imagine the shame that lingered for years in your hometown after the Kennedy assassination. Time stood still on that day for me and I will never forget where I was and what I was doing when the word came down.
I am grateful for people like you who help me to tell that little boy inside that it's OK, that there have been queer kids forever and they're just fine. Some of the images you post of those men who loved each other long before I was here help me feel strength and pride rather than blame and shame. Progress, not perfection.
PS. It sounds like you've got a great landlord.
Just reading this nearly caused me another stroke. Galvanized steel for drinking water supply, actually galvanized anything for the purpose of human consumption, is an absolute NOT. I grew up in the Midwest and this is a practice that has been banned for many decades. It is the equivalent to lead in house paint or gasoline and is an extreme danger to children. Within the past decade, I had to pickup a load of interstate highway signage support posts which are those systems that are on every interstate highway in the U.S. that has the huge green signs that tell you where you are and where you are going to. These steel posts are dipped in galvanizing solutions to make them weatherproof / rust resistant. After getting loaded and securing the load, I wondered what they felt like, and I persisted to pet them with my bare fingers. After I hit the highway, in less than 20-miles I began to feel weird (more so than normal), and within 70-miles I had a stroke, the kind you don't die from but wish you did. I cannot believe this is what was used in your home and ultimately surprised this didn't cause you massive headaches for no reason, or other serious health concerns. My current home / 5th wheel RV trailer, is entirely plumbed with PEX plastic which for the kitchen sink is currently frozen solid two days in a row now due to single digit temps, the fact is I don't have to worry about it affecting my health. And yes, it is frozen solid for now but no risk of bursting because PEX can expand. By tomorrow, it should thaw out and I'll have my kitchen sink back to normal again. Can't wait for winter to be over, as I'm sick of this damned cold weather. Normally this time of year I'm in Palm Springs, CA for my six-week vacation which I've done for the past 14-years, but right now I can't afford the trip due to change in jobs and major reduction in pay. Even Key West, FL is now outside of my budget which is another of my hangouts. Being gay and broke just doesn't go together, but it's my new reality.