Releasing the Grip of Victimhood

Read time: 6 minutes

I’ve become acutely aware lately of how easily we become addicted to feeling like victims—and how often I still fall into that trap myself.

As a young adult, feeling like a victim felt natural, even justified. My upbringing taught me that life wasn’t fair, that the odds were stacked against me, and that I had good reason to blame the world for how my life was turning out. Then, in my early twenties, by a stroke of luck, I came across a course called The Landmark Forum. The company that created it has earned a complicated reputation over the years, but one thing is certain: without that early exposure, I might have remained caught in the victim–blame loop that so many people get stuck in.

Overcoming victimhood became a lifelong practice. I learned the principle of personal responsibility—the idea that while we can’t control what happens to us, we can choose how we relate to it. We can learn from the painful events in our lives rather than tormenting ourselves by blaming others. When I realized that this principle was embodied by many of the teachers and leaders I admired, I began diligently rooting out any sense of victimhood that lingered in me—a practice I still return to today.

Before connecting this to the work we do at Groundwork, it’s important to acknowledge that there are real moments when we are victims. Many of the people I work with have survived unimaginable abuse and violence. After my own surgery a year and a half ago, I experienced opioid withdrawal that completely overtook my mind and body. I could not see clearly or recognize myself. In those moments, I was a victim—physically and chemically—and I needed medical and emotional support to find my way back to myself.

We all experience times when we need external help, a new environment, or a path out of a harmful situation. But once we regain our footing, we can begin to reclaim our agency by choosing how we respond to painful life experiences.

Just as I overcame the fear and shame of growing up near the poverty line, and later, the agony of fentanyl withdrawal, I eventually returned to my practice. Taking responsibility for our lives doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine—it means learning to sit with the pain of what we can’t control and gaining perspective through it. It’s how we extract wisdom from suffering and develop resilience. As personal responsibility deepens in us, we find the capacity to release the violent anger we might feel toward others. We become peacemakers—for ourselves first, and then for the world.

A big part of sitting with our pain is learning not to center it, fuel it, or feed it. Dropping into our pain means sitting side by side with our internal suffering—our sadness, anger, loss, rejection, or sense of worthlessness. It’s through this honest presence that we trace the roots of our suffering and see that, without awareness, we actually become victims to the pain itself.

I still fall into the trap of victimhood. Recently, I became the target of a stranger’s anger—someone who doesn’t even know me. In those moments, my pain wants to lash out, to defend, to find safety by gathering agreement that I’m “right.” Without awareness, I could easily slip into blame and self-protection: If only they understood me.

But when I drop in—when I sit quietly with the sadness, aloneness, and lack of safety that gets triggered—something shifts. The grip of my own pain loosens, and I begin to wonder about the other person’s pain. Why would they feel so angry toward someone they don’t know? What fear or wound might be driving that reaction? Often, people’s anger tells us more about them than it does about us. As Mel Robbins reminds us with her mantra Let Them, much of what people project onto us has nothing to do with us at all.

It’s easy in this world to default to victimhood or blame: How could they? They shouldn’t have. It’s not my fault—it’s theirs. And while we don’t have to excuse poor behavior, nor should we stay in harmful environments, the key is this: when we become addicted to feeling like victims, we lose our capacity to feel good about ourselves and to think kindly about others. We choose a prison over freedom.

For me, personal responsibility means softening to my pain as it arises, rather than letting it pull me away from love—for myself or for others. It means cultivating wisdom in how I respond to the world around me. Sometimes, it even means finding grace for the pain being directed toward me.

Personal responsibility is the act of jumping off the victim–blame pendulum. It’s active self-awareness and lifelong practice. It breaks our addiction to pain because it helps us decenter from self-pity and release the need to blame.

Healing our addiction to victimhood and blame is some of the hardest—and most rewarding—work I’ve ever done. To catch it, not step over it, and face the part of me that wants so badly to be the victim or to cast blame has been both humbling and liberating.

If you find yourself caught in that loop, even in small ways, I invite you to drop into that feeling. On the other side lies unimaginable freedom, grace, and power—even in the uncontrollableness of life.