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Wednesday 05 August 2026 19:42:45 GMT
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2026-08-05 21:22:50
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#CapCut I recently learned about something called locus of control. It’s basically how you explain the things that happen in your life. When something goes wrong, do you immediately look at yourself, or do you look at the situation around you? Apparently, I have a pretty strong internal locus of control. The realization first hit me when I was listening to a podcast that asked a simple question: If you got a bad grade on a test, would your first thought be: “I didn’t study hard enough.” or “The test was unfairly difficult.” Without hesitation, my brain went straight to the first answer. And then I remembered my Japanese JLPT N4 exam. A few months ago, I sat for the test and walked out feeling absolutely terrible. I was so disappointed in myself that I remember going to a Zen yoga class afterwards just to calm down. I felt guilty, frustrated, and convinced that I hadn’t prepared well enough. When the results came out, I had passed and scored in the top 90th percentile. The funny thing is that even after seeing the results, I didn’t really feel proud. I later found out that I had only gotten around 65% of the questions correct, but because the exam was difficult for almost everyone, that score still ranked highly. In other words, the test actually was hard. Yet my immediate reaction wasn’t, “Wow, that was a challenging exam.” It was, “You should have done better.” Then the podcast shared another finding that stopped me in my tracks. Apparently, children with a very high internal locus of control were less willing to share toys they had won in a competition. The reasoning was something like: “I worked hard for this. Other people had the same opportunity. If they didn’t get one, maybe they didn’t work hard enough.” And suddenly another piece of myself made sense. I think I’ve carried some version of that belief into adulthood. I’ve noticed that I can be less empathetic toward people who don’t seem to put effort into things—whether that’s taking care of their physical health, working on their mental health, or pursuing personal growth. Because effort feels deeply connected to responsibility in my mind. If change is possible, why wouldn’t you try? But lately I’ve been wondering if that’s too simplistic. Not everyone starts from the same place. Not everyone has the same resources, support systems, energy levels, life experiences, mental health, or capacity. What feels achievable to one person might feel completely overwhelming to another. And maybe that’s the downside of having too much internal locus of control. You become accountable for everything. The good things. The bad things. The things that were never entirely within your control in the first place. I think it’s also why I sometimes feel guilty about how good my life is. I’m incredibly blessed, and yet I’m constantly aware that many people are struggling. Somehow my brain still tries to make that feel like my responsibility too. I’m still unpacking all of this. I don’t think personal responsibility is a bad thing. In fact, I think it’s one of the reasons I’ve been able to grow in many areas of my life. But maybe there’s a balance. Maybe accountability without compassion becomes guilt. And maybe compassion without accountability becomes helplessness. Still learning where that middle ground is.
#CapCut I recently learned about something called locus of control. It’s basically how you explain the things that happen in your life. When something goes wrong, do you immediately look at yourself, or do you look at the situation around you? Apparently, I have a pretty strong internal locus of control. The realization first hit me when I was listening to a podcast that asked a simple question: If you got a bad grade on a test, would your first thought be: “I didn’t study hard enough.” or “The test was unfairly difficult.” Without hesitation, my brain went straight to the first answer. And then I remembered my Japanese JLPT N4 exam. A few months ago, I sat for the test and walked out feeling absolutely terrible. I was so disappointed in myself that I remember going to a Zen yoga class afterwards just to calm down. I felt guilty, frustrated, and convinced that I hadn’t prepared well enough. When the results came out, I had passed and scored in the top 90th percentile. The funny thing is that even after seeing the results, I didn’t really feel proud. I later found out that I had only gotten around 65% of the questions correct, but because the exam was difficult for almost everyone, that score still ranked highly. In other words, the test actually was hard. Yet my immediate reaction wasn’t, “Wow, that was a challenging exam.” It was, “You should have done better.” Then the podcast shared another finding that stopped me in my tracks. Apparently, children with a very high internal locus of control were less willing to share toys they had won in a competition. The reasoning was something like: “I worked hard for this. Other people had the same opportunity. If they didn’t get one, maybe they didn’t work hard enough.” And suddenly another piece of myself made sense. I think I’ve carried some version of that belief into adulthood. I’ve noticed that I can be less empathetic toward people who don’t seem to put effort into things—whether that’s taking care of their physical health, working on their mental health, or pursuing personal growth. Because effort feels deeply connected to responsibility in my mind. If change is possible, why wouldn’t you try? But lately I’ve been wondering if that’s too simplistic. Not everyone starts from the same place. Not everyone has the same resources, support systems, energy levels, life experiences, mental health, or capacity. What feels achievable to one person might feel completely overwhelming to another. And maybe that’s the downside of having too much internal locus of control. You become accountable for everything. The good things. The bad things. The things that were never entirely within your control in the first place. I think it’s also why I sometimes feel guilty about how good my life is. I’m incredibly blessed, and yet I’m constantly aware that many people are struggling. Somehow my brain still tries to make that feel like my responsibility too. I’m still unpacking all of this. I don’t think personal responsibility is a bad thing. In fact, I think it’s one of the reasons I’ve been able to grow in many areas of my life. But maybe there’s a balance. Maybe accountability without compassion becomes guilt. And maybe compassion without accountability becomes helplessness. Still learning where that middle ground is.

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