Victim Mentality
BY: T. Franklin Murphy | August 23, 2019 (modified January 6, 2023)
The perpetual (subjective) victim often avoids avenues of escape, relying on superficial support for strokes of attention.
This darn life delivers more than we can bare, at times. Travelling these dusty paths alone proves unmanageable. Overwhelmed and exhausted, we call for help— all we need is the gracious gift of a friendly smile or a helpful hand. We intuitively know (and science supports) the benefit of connection to helpful others. We seek companions to join in our travels. Our hearts leap with excitement when joined by another. Our biological systems yearn for connection, but our conniving mind settles for counterfeits. When authentic support is scarce, we settle for less, grasping at anything that simulates support. Sadly, for some, shallow connections become the norm, providing emptiness and thwarting opportunities for the real gift of love. The rules of true connection are set—empathy, compassion, reciprocity, commitment and predictability. Without adherence to the rules, closeness can’t be achieved. We don’t need perfection just actions that are good enough to allow roots to take hold so the plant can grow. Most people survive childhood learning just enough to continue development throughout life. Unfortunately, some don’t, moving into adulthood blind to the intricate behaviors essential to create a network of loving support. Even without an internal map for connection, those with developmental relationship injuries still feel lost and alone. They reach into the darkness, hoping to discover that something that they don’t entirely understand. Instead of openness and honesty, they utilize the relational games they learned from their lost mothers and fathers. They adopted dysfunctional relating skills to obtain human strokes of attention necessary for survival. Superficial Support to Expressed Victimhood
The hollow gestures of caring procured through simple games of interacting ultimately fail to create healthy bonds. Sadly, we see the brokenness all around. With a little attention, we see the numerous attempts to connect. The lonely scattering crumbs to entice others, beckoning for connection. Yet, their broken lives, void of healthy connection, lack necessary skills to nourish the relationships when opportunities arise. They make contact but then fearfully retreat, or disturbingly cling.
This is not a condemnation of the needy. Blaming the victim is wrong and should poke our sense of decency. We want to reach out and help those in need—and we should. The problem arises when the aide we give doesn’t heal the festering wound. Normal adult to adult interaction proceeds smoothly, with natural and expected responses. This creates predictability and comfort. Broken lives, however, didn’t experience the luxury of painless honesty in childhood. Normal interactions were laced with hidden burrs that pierce tender moments. These children implemented protections to survive, creating a defensive self-system oriented for survival in a dangerous world. For them, human discourse is accompanied by faulty thinking, defensive narratives, and self-preservation. The mindsets that push growth-oriented thinking away, leaving the victim alone and disconnected. Over the past decade of running a wellbeing blog (Flourishing Life Society), I have received thousands of calls for help, programmed to respond, I reach out. Most of us would do the same—that is what we do. Unconsciously, patterns of interaction are established—both by the victim and the rescuer. Oh, you need help, here take my hand. The social transaction is normal and predictable. We call for help when we are hurt. Others reach to help. These patterns provide lessons, we learn that statements of brokenness attract attention from helpful others. However, the healthy interaction is often spoiled by the introduction of vulnerability. The momentary good feelings of attention are quickly contaminated by fear, intruding and ruining the normal communicating of an adult exchange. Eric Berne refers to these transactions as games.
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