Wake Up From Victimhood: How I Stopped Blaming — And Started Living
Everywhere I look — in families, friendships, workplaces, and even in the headlines — I see the same thread: people pointing fingers, casting blame outward, and refusing to reflect on their own choices. It is so easy to fall into the role of the victim. So easy to say an illness ruined everything, or that childhood wounds explain every outburst, or even that events which happened long before we were born are the reason life feels impossible now.
What’s missing is reflection — the willingness to ask, How might I have responded differently? What can I change now?Without that self-honesty, we stay trapped in the same story, circling through blame while life itself keeps passing us by.
Victimhood says: life is happening to me.
Responsibility says: life is happening through me, and I get to choose my response.
That distinction changes everything.
“Blame chains us to the past,
but reflection opens the door to freedom.”The cost of never reflecting
Blame can feel vindicating. It allows us to avoid discomfort. It lets us sidestep responsibility. But it also paralyzes us. I see people in their seventies still blaming parents for behaviors they could change today. I see people blaming illnesses, society, or even history for lives that have never evolved. That mindset is not harmless — I believe it feeds the mental health crisis we’re living in: helplessness, resentment, and an inability to grow.
You don’t have to look far to see the pattern. Some people seem to live in constant drama, hardship after hardship, as if fate itself had singled them out. But beneath the surface, it is the same cycle repeating: blame always cast outward. Multiple children no longer speak to them, and yet each child is “at fault.” They live in squander, but it is always because their jobs didn’t pay enough or the community didn’t provide enough. They mistreat others, then justify it with excuses, never once seeing their own part in the story. What they don’t realize is that their actions — or even their energy — repeatedly draw hardship to them. And it is never just one thing — it is husbands, coworkers, neighbors, finances, friendships — one after another, like waves breaking against the same shore.
When we live in victim mode, something dark begins to take root. Helplessness turns into anger, anger ferments into resentment, and resentment often erupts as rage. It breeds jealousy of those who do create change in their lives. And worst of all, it distorts the way we see one another. Instead of viewing humanity through the lens of love, we begin to see it through suspicion, blame, and hostility. That shift not only poisons our own spirit — it tears at the very fabric of our relationships, our families, and our communities.
And I say this not only because I’ve seen it in others — but because I’ve lived it myself.
“The stories we repeat shape the lives we live.
Change the story, and you change the path.”My early years
I’m not someone who grew up privileged. I grew up poor, and by the age of fifteen I was already helping to support my family financially. Responsibility wasn’t optional — it was survival.
While my senior class was dressing up for prom, I was beginning my first full-time job. There was no summer break ahead of me, no carefree college years waiting. Because of my health conditions, I needed insurance the moment I turned eighteen — less than a month away. There was no safety net. I knew early on that if I wanted to survive, I would have to provide for myself.
From there, more hardships came. At nineteen, I lived through the devastating loss of my firstborn son, born still. I endured sixteen years in an abusive relationship. I battled chronic health conditions beginning when I was twelve. I carried grief, fear, and pain. And for a time, I let those things become my identity. I wore my suffering like a badge and wanted others to admire me for enduring.
The turning point
Then one ordinary day, driving home from work, I heard a voice ask me: Why is your focus on what’s wrong? Why aren’t you focusing on what’s beautiful? Why aren’t you taking charge of your healing?
At the time, I didn’t know who or what that voice was. Years later, through my shamanic practice, I would come to recognize it as one of my beloved guides. In that moment, it felt only like truth cutting through the fog. A strange mix of fear and freedom filled me, as though a light had pierced the heaviness I’d been carrying, showing me there was another way forward.
And so I began to change, step by step:
I stopped letting doctors dictate every step and became my own advocate.
I changed my diet and daily habits even when others around me wouldn’t.
I stopped appeasing at work; I spoke up even when it cost me my job — and losing that job pushed me toward the career I love.
I focused on fitness, which led me to train as a Pilates instructor and rebuild my strength, body, and spirit.
Not everything I changed by myself. Leaving the person who abused me took enormous courage — and the loving leadership of my now-husband who held my hand and made safety possible. Sometimes we need someone to lead us out of the pit. But even then, the first step must be ours.
“Healing begins the moment we realize we are not powerless but participants in our own becoming.”Remembering the warrior
I think back to those years when I slipped into victimhood, and I wonder how it ever happened. I had always been a warrior.
When my son was born still, I was just nineteen — yet there I was, taking my employer to court for pregnancy discrimination after they cut my hours and stripped away my medical benefits while I was on bedrest. And I won that case. Not only did I win, but Medicare heard of the case and launched their own investigation into the company’s policies. That investigation eventually brought the business down.
I had always been strong-willed — the girl who never backed down, who stood her ground, who spoke the truth even when it was uncomfortable. I was the big sister who defended my siblings, the one others could count on to fight for what was right. Which is why it was so hard to believe that I — that same fierce, determined girl — would one day find myself in an abusive relationship. To reconcile the fearless protector I had always been with the silenced woman I became was almost impossible. And yet, that is where life had taken me.
And through my healing, I found that girl again. But I also realized something deeper: I no longer needed to live only as a warrior. The battles had made me strong, but they were not the whole of me.
Being a warrior saved me in my youth. Leading with love sustains me now. One taught me how to survive, the other is teaching me how to thrive.
“Strength is not only in the fight —
it is in choosing to lead with love.”A plea — and a practice
My story is unique, but the lesson is universal. Every one of us has moments when we can either surrender to blame or rise into responsibility.
I get frustrated — honest to my bones — when people refuse to look in the mirror. When they expect others to rescue them, they never learn to stand. When family and friends bail them out of every crisis, they are denied the hard, necessary work of growth.
And here is the hardest truth: victimhood does not only chain a person to their pain, it warps the heart. Instead of receiving love, victims often push it away. Instead of gratitude, they carry bitterness. They mistreat others and excuse it, telling themselves it is justified by their suffering. And when someone lovingly tries to help, pointing out that change is possible, their rage flares. That rage is what we now see spilling into families, communities, and society at large.
So here’s what I want to offer instead of judgment:
Reflect daily. Ask yourself: What can I do today that moves me forward?
Own the small things. Responsibility grows in tiny choices — meals, movement, speaking up. Celebrate those wins.
Ask for help — and then act. If you need a hand, take it. But don’t let that hand do all the work.
Choose learning over stories. Instead of rehearsing why life was unfair, ask: What does this teach me?
Lead with love. There’s a difference between fighting and guiding. When you lead with love, you heal faster — and your healing helps others.
“Every hardship can be a doorway,
if we are willing to walk through it with courage.”Closing: From Blame to Blessing
I hold no regrets. Every loss, every illness, every struggle became a teacher. Without them, I would not have learned to step out of victimhood and into responsibility. Without them, I would not have discovered how much lighter life feels when you release blame and choose love.
Today, my life is full of blessings — my beloved husband, my best friend and partner; an incredible son and daughter-in-law; two radiant granddaughters whose lives I now get to impact in profound ways; and the gift of building a legacy they will grow up watching. Together, my husband and I have built not only a beautiful home — one many could only dream of — but also a sanctuary where love, laughter, and healing live. And every morning I wake grateful, and every night I close my eyes even more grateful.
This is the truth I want to leave you with: if all you ever are is a victim, nothing will ever change. But if you can pause, reflect, and take even one small step toward responsibility, you open the door to transformation.
We cannot rewrite our childhoods, undo the abuse, or change the illnesses. But we can choose how we live with them. We can choose to lead with love instead of anger, gratitude instead of resentment, reflection instead of blame. And when we do, we don’t just heal ourselves — we bring healing to our families, our communities, and even to the collective spirit of this world.
So here is my invitation: tonight, before you close your eyes, ask yourself one question — What am I ready to stop blaming, and how am I ready to start living?
And tomorrow, when you wake, take that step. The world is waiting for the wholeness only you can bring.
May your answer be the first step toward a life you love.
Brightest Blessings,
