Of all the addictions I’ve had to break—and trust me, there are plenty to choose from—none gripped me like victimhood.

It didn’t wreck my life overnight. It whispered sweet nothings while it slowly hollowed me out.

It told me I didn’t have to try so hard.
It told me no one could blame me for falling apart.
It wrapped itself around my pain like a warm blanket and said,
"Shhh… you’ve been through enough."

And I believed it.

Because victimhood doesn’t come in like a wrecking ball—it slides in wearing compassion’s clothes.
It sounds like understanding.
It feels like relief.
And before you know it, you’re living inside a story where nothing is your fault, and nothing is your responsibility either.

But here’s the truth:

The self-destruction.
The numbing.
The overcompensating.
The people-pleasing.
The self-betrayal.
The lowering of every standard I once held for my life.

It was all fed by the same lie:
"You’re too broken to be expected to do better."

And I was just broken enough to believe it.

I lived in victimhood for a long time.

And not for no reason.
I had a long list of deeply valid explanations for why I was the way I was.

I’d been through some shit. I was walking around wearing my wounds—sometimes like a badge of honor, sometimes like armor. I justified my worst choices, my self-destructive behaviors, and my inability to grow… all on the pain I dragged from my past into every single corner of my present.

And plenty of people around me enabled it.

Not because they were bad people—most of them meant well.
They said things that sounded like love:
“You’re doing the best you can.”

At the time, it felt like compassion. It felt like understanding.

But here’s what I see now, looking back:

Those same people benefited from my brokenness.
From my lack of boundaries.
From how desperate I was to be loved, accepted, chosen.
From how I didn’t expect much from myself or from others—because I’d been convinced that pain was my ceiling.

I kept waiting.
Waiting for someone to show up and save me.
Waiting for some magic apology, some grand restitution, some perfect moment of redemption to finally make things right.
And not just because I was hurting—but because deep down, I knew it wasn’t my fault.
I kept telling myself it wasn’t fair. That after everything I had survived, someone owed me a repair.
So I outsourced my peace.
I held my breath, hoping the people who hurt me would come back and heal me.
Hoping they'd finally see the damage, feel the remorse, and come clean up what they broke.

But I would’ve been waiting forever.

And eventually, the consequences of that pattern caught up with me.
In no uncertain terms, I saw what it was doing to me—what it had done to me.
I saw how long I’d been stuck. How much of my power I’d given away.
How deeply I’d betrayed my own potential.
And I knew: I wasn’t going to last much longer if I didn’t make a change.

So if any of this feels familiar—if you’re reading this and thinking, “Shit… that’s me"—I want to tell you something that might be hard to hear.
But if it helps save you years of waiting and wasting time, then I’ll say it clearly:

What happened to you?
What was done to you?
The trauma, the abandonment, the chaos, the heartbreak?

It may not have been your fault.
But it is your responsibility to heal from it.

And you can.

I say that as someone who spent decades standing in the wreckage—waiting for the people who broke everything to come back with mops and brooms and the right attitude. I thought if I waited long enough, someone would show up and clean up the mess they made.

But while I was standing around?
The mess didn’t shrink. It spread.
It leaked into every aisle of my life.

Just like a sticky, stinking spill in the grocery store, victimhood left trails everywhere—through my relationships, my career, my self-esteem, and my ability to see what was possible for my life.

It felt good in the moment, sure.
There’s a twisted kind of comfort in being able to say, “After everything I’ve been through, it’s a miracle I’m even still here.”

And you know what? That’s true.

But when you set the bar that low for yourself, just surviving becomes the goal.
And if survival is the ceiling, thriving never even makes it onto the blueprint.

Our lives are shaped by two things: conditions and choices.

The conditions you were born into? You didn’t choose those.
The abuse. The neglect. The poverty. The illness. The betrayals. The violence. The instability.

You didn’t ask for any of it.
You didn’t cause it.
You didn’t deserve it.

But your choices?
Those are yours to own.

They are your leverage. Your lifeline. Your power source.
Because no matter where you start, the truth is this:

And if you want your life to feel different, you’ve got to start making different choices—even when it's hard. Especially when it’s hard.

The ones that move you toward who you really are, not who the pain turned you into.
The ones that honor your future, not just your past.
The ones that help you build something, instead of staying stuck in cleanup mode forever.

Because if you don’t choose differently, the past will just keep choosing for you.

Victimhood doesn’t get you anywhere.
It keeps you stuck.
It keeps you small.
It keeps your fate, your freedom, and your future outside of you.

It wasn’t your fault.
It is your responsibility.

You can’t change the past—
but you can reclaim your agency today.

Instead of waiting for someone else to come clean up aisle 5, grab your own tools.
Get intimate with your mess.
Get your hands in it. Grab a mop and a bucket.
Start getting to know and understand all of the bits and pieces that need to be picked up, repaired, and made whole again.

Take your time. Gather what you need. Call in backup.

But begin.

Trauma lies to you.
It tells you you’re powerless. Broken. Stuck. Doomed to repeat the same cycles forever.

But the antidote to powerlessness is agency.
And the moment you start exploring what’s actually in your control?
The moment you stop waiting and start reclaiming your ability to choose, to move, to heal?

It doesn’t take long to discover:

You’re far more powerful than you were ever led to believe.

This work is rarely easy. It can be slow. Messy. Frustrating.
But you know what’s harder?

Staying stuck.

Reliving the same painful loops.
Waking up to the same ache, the same regret, the same story every day.

You weren’t born to live in Groundhog Day.
You were born to live on purpose with purpose.

That’s exactly what I did.

I walked away from a business, a social circle, and an entire life I had built around escaping reality. Closing the door was hard but necessary. And then I got to work.

I began an all-out rampage of personal reflection—digging into the roots of every story I had ever told myself about my worth, my capabilities, my identity, my future. Everything that wasn’t working for me, I put on the chopping block. The level of honesty this took was brutal but necessary.

One by one I started going down the list. Every belief that had kept me small? I traced it to the source. And then I rewrote it.

Using EFT. Mentorship. Group workshops. Retreats. Meditation. Journaling. Movement. Any and every tool that helped me peel back the layers, I used it.

I excavated my belief system and rebuilt a new one.

One that actually supports the life I’m here to live.
One that leaves no room for settling.

Now, maybe this doesn’t hit home for you.
Maybe you’ve already done the work.
If so—I’m celebrating you.

But if part of you is still stuck in that old loop—if you're still carrying the weight of justifications that don't actually help you move forward—then I’ve got to ask:

Is it really working?

Is clinging to the pain helping you live the life you want?

If it is, then truly—keep doing what’s working for you.

But if it’s not?

Then maybe it’s time to stop defending the pain… and start transforming it.

Because here’s the truth:

You cannot be the victim and the victor at the same time.
You have to choose.

One keeps you waiting.
The other gets you moving.

One protects your pain.
The other reclaims your power.

So… which will it be?

Grab your journal. Get honest. These questions aren’t meant to shame you—they’re here to help you reclaim your power and get back in the driver’s seat of your own story.

1. Where in my life am I waiting for someone else to change before I let myself heal or move forward?
Hint: If you’re holding your breath for an apology, that’s your cue.

2. What story do I keep telling myself that makes it “okay” to stay stuck?
What belief has become your favorite excuse?

3. Where am I lowering the bar for myself because of what I’ve been through?
Compassion is necessary. But are you confusing it with avoidance?

4. What do I keep blaming on my past that’s actually within my control today?
It doesn’t have to be your fault to be your responsibility.

5. If I fully believed I had agency and power right now, what’s one thing I’d do differently today?
Start there

Body Love

Yin yoga is one of the best tools I’ve found to support me when I’m deep diving into uncomfortable places. No prior yoga experience needed!