When I am a victim…
…I feel a weight on my shoulders. It’s pushing down so that I bend slightly at the knees. It’s what they call my ‘ego.’
Every time life was unfair to me; my ego has inflated a little more. Now I carry it around. I have to trudge under the weight.
I feel weary, often depressed, but my ego needs protecting. I was wronged, and so my ego needs to be big and strong to take revenge on life. Life was harsh to me, so I deserve a big, heavy, impenetrable ego.
…I feel entitled. This makes me realize that I can be passive to get the things I deserve in life. I’m waiting for good things to come to me. I’m checking my watch. I’m looking out the window. Waiting.
…I avoid taking too many risks. I come up with an even better excuse than last time, for:
– Not posting that article.
– Not starting that side-business.
– Not emailing that potential mentor.
– Not going to that meetup.
Because I might get rejected. And rejection is an absolute no-no for my self-image. My ego could pop if I get rejected, and that would involve pain. This is something I am not willing to go through again. So I’ll stay home and distract myself.
…I don’t do things that make me feel vulnerable. That would not be a good thing to do. I have an image to uphold after all. I must keep looking cool at all times. I am kind of a badass, I suppose.
I can’t be vulnerable because then people will know who I really am, and who I am is not good enough. As someone who is not good enough, I cannot show myself too much. I’ll keep hiding, thank you very much.
…I feel tired and frustrated, mainly because that’s what victims do. I’m acting the part.
…People get on my nerves. I am still resentful to those schmucks who were mean to me at school; in the office. I still can’t forgive you, dad, for that thing you said when I was ten.
…I want to escape through movies; fast food; porn; games; Facebook videos; social media; procrastamacation; not doing the thing. I’m a victim after all. I deserve to feel good, even though all these things won’t help me in the long run and don’t seem to make me feel any better.
…I just don’t have very much motivation. Why have a purpose, when I’m just a poor old victim?
…I’m not creative. I don’t feel much love for others or the world because they are the source of my pain. And so I cannot draw on life’s beauty to create more. I am putting too much energy into holding onto my resentment, so there is little left over to create anyway.
…I don’t finish things. The process is fun I suppose, but there’s not a chance that I’ll complete it because that means that it’s open to criticism. I’d rather keep it unfinished than have too many people see it. I’m good thanks. I’ll stop here for now.
When I am a victim…
…I realize it’s not a good look for me.
So I forgive those who wronged me; I question those beliefs I held on to so tightly, and I forgive myself too.
Processing this takes work, maybe a weekend of devoted work, if not, much more. Writing some pages on those beliefs helps a lot. It’s worth it.
I unpackage the seemingly concrete concept that I am not good enough. I realize that perhaps I’m better, more valuable, more interesting than I thought.
That cheesy thing spoken about by those ‘weird’ spiritual people: That each and every one of us is a total miracle.
I start to believe it.
It feels good to be unapologetic about who I am again.
To be creative again.
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