30 days of writing: day 5 w/prompt


prompt: “it all starts with the choice to live on the other side of victim.”


I have been a victim.  Many times over, I have been a victim of abuse, of bullying, of discrimination, of circumstance.  Hey, it happens.  I know to move myself forward, to propel myself into a life of my OWN design, I need to cut the ‘victimized’ anchor loose.


Will it be easy?  Doubtful.  It seems all the anchors i carry – read ‘drag’ – through life are not easy to let go of.  They’ve been part of my identity, right?  And stay rooted there by the nurturing of my most base desires.  Sex.  More specifically, sexual fantasies.  In mine, I am the victim almost always.  It is rare for me to take a dominant role even in fantasy.  The problem with this is that I am not just submissive – which in itself is not a bad thing – but I am the one being victimized.  If it was real life, arrests would be made!


I wonder about myself always taking this kind of role in my fantasies, if such things were happening to other people I would be outraged and take action to save them from further harm.  Yet for myself, I foster the fantasy and playing the role not of damaged goods, but of being damaged.  That’s some sick shit.  Because it wouldn’t work the same if in that fantasy world I was already damaged. No, there I am pure of heart, mind and body, until it all gets trashed.  And in that world, the trashing leaves me in the throes of orgasmic release.  I can’t even call it pleasure, I’m not sure it is.  At this point it is a need, to continually trash my own wholesomeness.  as if I’ve a compulsion to hurt myself.


Writing it out like this makes me feel pretty frightened.  Of what it means and of what others will think it means.  Really.  What could it possibly mean?  Let me take a stab at it.  Oh hell.  Who cares what it means?  There are a myriad of motivations for such fantasies.  My issues are RIGHT NOW and in the real world where the fostering these kinds of fantasies, sexual and or otherwise, keeps me imbued with the essence of ‘victim’, like a natural perfume or pheromone.  Or an evil caul, wrapping me tight in a never-ending fetal position, unable to stretch and grow.
I can change this.  I have the power to change my scent, my vibration, my circumstance.  I have the power to tear through that victim veil and unfurl. I have the power to open and stretch and grow strong and mature. There is no need for me play the powerless victim of abuse or circumstance. I have the power AND the ability to create a new story line.


It seems there is no turning away from that time when I really was powerless, when I really was a victim. It happened. It’s history. Ignoring it only keeps it simmering under the surface, brewing and luring me back to the familiar. The trick is to get past it. Get around that shit so it is no longer a distraction or danger to the lovely life I want to create.


There is nothing wrong with having a history rich with experiences, things happen. They affect us, yes, but they don’t have to stall us. I have plenty of time to write a new sort of life for myself. I need to leave the back story where it belongs. Back there. And then I need to soak myself in the positive, the joyous, the hearty, by both thought and deed, to re-scent myself in such a way as to attract more of those things to me in my new and better story.


The choice to leave history in its proper place is mine. The choice to move forward from a place of empowerment or remaining stalled in victim mode is mine. Life is mine to wallow in what and how I’ve been or to create who I am and how I move forward to where I want to be.


The choice is mine.




~ by ghyllee mahree on 2014/08/05.

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