Ugliness comes with lessons, and by looking my monsters straight in the eye, I hope to gain more insight. Why are they here? What are they trying to teach me? And what do they need to be soothed back to sleep?
This week: Victim
You happened to me.
Before I could even spell your name, you had already taken hold of me and that’s okay. Sooner or later, you show up for everyone that’s just life.
The first time you came, you were far too early. You stole my innocence and playfulness.
Your arrival marked the start of a phase I wasn’t ready for: adulthood. That was 26 years ago.
You only became a monster when I started to resist.
I hate you.
Because when you're around, I feel small and powerless.
The situation becomes a battle I have to win. My jaw tightens, my eyes shoot fire.
All the times you’ve ever appeared turn into a long list of arguments justifying my anger.
Your sidekick Fear shows up, and living from a place of love feels further away than ever.
Who are you, really?
The dictionary tells me:
vic·tim (noun)
1. (historical) a sacrificial animal slain on an altar
2. someone who suffers physical, financial or mental harm through no fault of their own; someone who pays the price
I have a dangerous habit: looking for blame. Where one might team up with you and go hunting for a scapegoat, I turn inward and ignore your arrival. What did I do wrong? What did I miss? Surely this isn’t just happening to me for no reason? What lesson am I supposed to learn? While brewing my Simpelsapjes, you visit more often than I’d like. I fight you off with learned lessons and good intentions. Giving meaning becomes forcing meaning. But you refuse to leave.
By stubbornly seeking answers and reasons, I desperately try to cast myself as the perpetrator. Because if I did something wrong or if there’s something to learn, then I’m also the one in control. The illusion of a manageable world is dearer to me than I thought and it weighs heavily on my shoulders. I can’t carry this. And I don’t have to, as long as I’m willing to accept that the questions of blame and “why” don’t always have an answer. Sometimes, things just happen. Not because I need to learn from them, but simply because I had bad luck. I can’t control what happens to me, but I can choose how I respond.
And just like that, Victim quietly slips away…
And Love gently knocks on my door again.
Aca
Monstrous Monday: Victim