After I’d complained for the zillionth time about my disappointing state of affairs, a friend suggested I attend a motivational seminar. I figured it couldn’t hurt. On the first day, the leader asked us to tell stories about times we were victimized. I rattled off tales of seemingly inexplicable rejections from employers, banks, and men. But she stopped me: What if you told those stories differently, she asked, as if you were accountable for what happened? How did you end up in those situations? Just the suggestion that I was to blame infuriated me. If it were my fault that I was alone, in debt, and going nowhere, then I’d be the real loser, not just a victim of my circumstances. The thought made me wince, but the part of me that was also exhausted by those stories kept me from running for the door. So reluctantly I considered the choices I made in the past–the shoes I bought when my rent was due, the chocolate mousse I ate while I was “dieting,” the defensive attitude I had on dates to cover up my vulnerability, and the red flags I ignored when I pressured my now ex-husband to get married. Something surprising happened when I retold the stories this way: I felt relief, not regret or shame. Beneath my victim persona, I’d been hiding my fear–that I was unlovable, that I wouldn’t be successful, that I couldn’t take care of myself. By owning up to the part I played in those events for the first time, I felt I had the power to change what happened because I wasn’t at everyone else’s mercy. Once I began feeling like the protagonist in my life–not the victim–I knew I could rewrite the ending of all those stories. I now believe I’m responsible for authoring my own life. Over the past two years, I’ve found new work, built a house, lost ten pounds, and started dating a wonderful man. It’s lucky, yes. But it also happened on account of me. Laura Fraser is the author of An Italian Affair and its new sequel, All Over the Map.
