There are people in this world whose victimhood is their primary sense of identity.
They are looking for goblins in every shadow. Protesting every experience as a violation of their personal freedom.
But when we try to help or console them, they get annoyed. Sometimes horribly defensive and insulted. As if to say, hey now, don’t take away my tragedy. I’m planning on dining on that for a while.
In my own experience, it’s best to not add any fuel to this fire. Or even stand next to it. Because the over under of these people having a diminished sense of outrage is not in our favor.
They would rather we agree with them, so they can feel more justified in being a victim. They would rather sabotage themselves in order to return to their more comfortable and familiar state of misery.
It’s better to treat their martyrdom as a bell of awareness. A gentle reminder that we are not victims of the cosmos, we are victims of our own actions. And that as soon as we become capable of having expectations, we become capable of protesting about not having them met.
Neruda said it best in his poem:
You are the result of yourself. Don’t forget that the cause of your present is your past, as the cause of your future will be your present.
In a world where most of the oxygen molecules in our atmosphere are used for the purposes of sighing and bemoaning and complaining, taking this kind of responsibility for our life would literally be a breath of fresh air.
It’s a choice. Maybe the biggest one we make.
We can be victims of the moment, or we can become willing explorers.
We can be overwhelmed by circumstances, or we can become a masterful creators at play.
LET ME ASK YA THIS…
What impotent protest is waste of your life and energy?