I fix things that go wrong rather than constantly blaming myself

Water is coming through the kitchen ceiling. One person is turning off the stopcock. The other is standing in the hallway explaining what kind of idiot doesn't check a washing machine hose.

Only one of those is accountability, though the second feels more like it — heavier, more sincere, more deserved. Self-blame does a convincing impression of taking responsibility while producing nothing that changes the ceiling.

The test is simple enough to run mid-thought: does this end in a task? If it ends in a verdict about your character instead, it isn't repair work. Repair is boring. It is a phone call, an apology of two sentences, a form filled in on a Tuesday.