that time i was a victim and then i was a creator
“Wait, what? N is coming? When?”
A silence opened on the phone line as I jiggled myself to feel warmer in the spring-cool Portugal air.
“N said at the end of June”, my friend said on the line. “You didn’t know?”
“No, she didn’t tell me…”
Normallly I would be delighted to know a friend is visiting, but this ‘surprise’ made me feel like a house collapsed in my belly.
A flash of heat pulsed under my cold skin.
That feeling of being overlooked…
Like I don’t matter.
Not valued.
How could she not tell me, after all we’ve been through?
How could a sister treat me like that?
*
I was all twisted up inside: a mix of feeling discarded and furious at the same time.
For me, this friend had harmed me, even if it was something ‘insignificant’.
And in my pain, I started to fall down a well.
The stones of this well spoke and said things like
I have been harmed!
How could you she do such a thing!
I deserve better!
Poor me!
Ouch!
Why does this always happen to me?!
I must be worthless to be treated like this!
I’m a victim!
Protective mechanisms in me began to wake up. They didn’t want me to feel bad…
No one treats Caitlyn like this. Not even N!
These inner protectors saw N as a perpertaror. If I’m feeling harmed, *she* is the one our defensive crosshairs should be locked on…
So these protective mechanisms foistered their best weapons at N: sticky pain mixed with bladed wit delivered in blame-filled text messages.
How could you not have told me?! I thought we were sisters! You disrespect me!
*
Days passed in this text-message ‘comms battle’ (which I knew better not to do, but hey. Protective mechanisms can be powerful hijackers).
The twist in my insides got twistier.
What I wanted was for my head to be patted and for N to say, Sorry, there, there.
What I really, really wanted to stop feeling so worthless. So much like discardable trash.
Some of the protectors thought maybe the head patting and there-there’ing might help that.
Unfortunately, the protectors’ grand communication plan (blaming and crying through 512 character text messages) wasn’t working…
I was solidly flattened at the dark bottom of the victim well and felt as lonely as the cold stones down there.
*
The one at the bottom of the well kept twisting and turning. She was desperate for some relief, becoming louder and more urgent in her demands.
She was trying to hook N into acknowledging how terribly she’d treated me.
But N had a different perspective.
No head pats for me…
This could be endless.
And what if the desperate well-driven ‘comms plan’ doesn’t work?
I could be stuck down the well forever…
And do I really want my friendships to be run by parts of me who are trapped at the bottom of the well?
Is there another way to deal with this?
… which at the end of the day was two needs:
The need for timely communication for things that are relevant to me
The need to feel worthy
*
6.37am. My eyes cracked open with the Portuguese sun, which was getting punchier day by day.
I rolled over in bed, my miserable merry-go-round still making slow circles inside me.
One word began roll around in my bed-hair head…
Drama…
Drama.
DRAMA.
I was being a bit dramatic, it was true.
If you could sum up my text message comms plan in one emoji it would be:
😩
And then this word reminded me of the Drama triangle.
The endless cycle of the Victim - Perpetrator - Saviour….
If I feel I’m a Victim, by the law of the triangle, there must be a Perpetrator. And eventually I will seek a Saviour to get me out of feeling so bad (in this case, it was my protective mechanism-driven blamey ‘comms plan’).
Despite all the effort of the Victim to find resolution or retribution, the thing with the Drama Triangle is that the cycle is endless and fruitless (endlessly painful, energy-sucking and without genuine resolution).
The Victim is *never* empowered so long as they see themselves as a Victim and the counterpart as the Perpetrator.
A Victim by nature cannot be empowered: they are not empowered.
(note for clarity: the Victim role is not the same as actually being a victim of harm or trauma.
It’s a disempowered identity or mindset, characterized by learned helplessness or emotional dependence.)
It’s not to say that I didn’t feel harm (I did), but the difference is the self-perception and the projected perception of the ‘perpetrator’.
So what can I do?
I felt harmed, I felt bad… That was TRUE.
How can I feel pain, but not fall down the well of helplessness and blame?
I can become a Creator.
Rather than falling down the well, I…
held myself in the pain and moved it through my body.
Validated how I feel.
Moved and shook my body.
Did some voice dialogue to express the words that got stuck in my body.
This meant being *with* the one who feels worthless…have different self-talk
Rather than feeling flattened or consumed by the pain, I kept my spine straight.I went in to meet the one inside me who felt unworthy and helped to unburden her so she can feel whole and worthy
I ASKED for what I *need*.
I change my perception of N.
Rather than nailing her to the cross of ‘Perpetrator’, I see her as a Challenge to help me step into my power.
Her behaviour is my challenge to hold myself when painful feelings come up (rather than fall down the well or throw the feelings on her).
Her behaviour is my challenge to be in my power and ask for what I need (rather than just get upset that someone didn’t know my expectations as clearly as I did).
Her behaviour is my challenge to stay present with myself (rather than getting hijacked by feelings).
Her behaviour is my challenge to consciously meet parts within me that feel worthless (rather than letting them stay unconscious).
It was humbling. Not to put the ‘blame’ one someone else.
I realised how unfamiliar this was — normally as soon as I felt pain, I would fall down the Victim well.
I don’t think anyone in my upbringing ever showed me how to do anything other than that…
Now, I felt the pain, but I had something I could do. Now I had a way to be with it. I could have a straight spine, even with the discomfort.
*
Feeling complete (for now) with my voice dialogue and emotional expression (this work is layer by layer, so no doubt I had to meet deeper layers later, especially of the self-worth wound), I opened the patio door to feel the morning air on my skin. The clouds were already on an early summer vacation and it was only 7.04am.
The day was starting.
And a sun began to rise inside me…
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