victim complex

I think I have a victim complex, void. I don't know what to do about it. It's like I'm constantly acting wronged by people, stewing on this idea that they "used me then left me for a better version", but why would this even be a pattern if there wasn't something severely wrong with me in the first place? I am the common denominator here. I am responsible for getting left behind. God even the way I worded that sounds like something someone with a victim complex would say. Ahem. I am responsible for acting selfish, not showing up consistently, talking shit about literally everyone I know, and generally being a miserable, downer gossip snob 80% of the time, which encourages a majority of the people around me to find someone more empathetic, genuine, and trustworthy, and less judgmental, condescending, and self-centered to hang out with in the time they used to waste on me. That's better.

I hate that I am like this. The negativity, mainly. Why can't I just like people? Why can't I just talk less shit about people? Is it because I have nothing else to say? I'm uninspiring on my own so I gotta bring down everyone with me? I hate the thoughts in my head so much that I want to cut my own fucking brain out most days. Start over. Be nicer. More accepting. Get rid of that fucking colossal chip on my shoulder. Shake off this insufferable victim complex. Is it because deep down I know I wouldn't be interesting enough for anyone to pay attention unless I've somehow been terrorized by someone else? Why do I need so much attention anyway? How do you stop being a terrible person who thinks and says terrible things about not-terrible people for cheap clout and common-enemy bonding?

Ugh. I even behave as if I am a victim of my past self. Like they're a separate entity who destroyed so much of my life that my present self can't move forward. I mean, the reason I'm so unhappy is completely my current self's fault but I'm constantly acting like I have no hand in my fate anymore. As if I'm in any way unique in my suffering for shit decisions I made when I was 18 years old. As if I'm in any way less capable of overcoming my suffering than anyone else. At least I'm not on drugs. At least I didn't have a child against my will. I just chose the wrong career. Soiled my entitlement to a college education by choosing the wrong school and the wrong major. All for a stupid generic dream of getting my stupid novel published. I won't call it generic. It's not generic. I'll give myself that, at least. (that's also probably why it will never publish, though... again with the self-victimization, self.)

I think what troubles me the most is that I'm so obsessed with my own pain that I can't feel joy for other people's happiness. I feel pretty confident that the involved parties will never read this, so here's an example. I love road trips. They are my passion, my pride... the primary source of my life's good memories. I used to drag someone out on these road trips with me. While they never appeared particularly interested in planning road trips on their own, nor ever did before going on them with me, they always had a good time and never said no when I suggested a new one. Because of this, this person became my go-to road trip buddy. I don't have a lot of friends, and finding someone who wants to spend time and money on your wild road trip ideas is kind of rare, so the fact that they did mattered a lot to me.

Okay, now flash forward: this person is not in my life as much due to very normal, not dramatic reasons (aka, like most normal people, this person has partnered up). In the brief time that I was able to spend with them recently, they mentioned that they were planning a road trip with their partner. The route will cover a huge number of destinations that I had mentioned wanting to hit up in the past. Last month, they also planned and went on a road trip hitting up destinations I had very recently told them I wanted to road trip to. If I weren't such a negative bitch with such a giant fucking victim complex, I would be happy that I inspired this person to go on out there and plan road trips of their own. Instead, I couldn't even fake an ounce of excitement or joy for them as they and their partner told a group of us about this new road trip because I was so focused on the fact that I no longer have a road trip buddy and that my former road trip buddy is now going on my dream road trip plans with their partner and that the old ritual of going on road trips with my former road trip buddy is likely done for good.

Why am I upset about this? Selfishness aside, I don't even have funds to go road-tripping anymore. Logistically, going on one in the near future would require me to abandon people I love during a critical hour, too. While it's never been explicitly stated that my presence not-on-a-road-trip is crucial to the welfare of these people by these people, it is clear that they depend on me quite a bit right now, and as I am currently the only one in the capacity to assist them (aka not partnered up or depended on by anyone else): assist them I will, and by my own will. However, it does mean no road trips. And no accepting work outside of a certain radius, which is really not that much of a sacrifice for me because I don't have a network anywhere anyway. Honestly, the biggest network I have is in the area I am willingly confining myself to because of this situation so like I said, not a huge sacrifice.

With all of this in mind, it is clearly not feasible for me to go on road trips this year. So why can't I be happy for my former road trip buddy that they at least are able to go on road trips with their partner? Why was (and is) my only reaction the same butt-hurt chain of thoughts: I am always replaced by people's partners. It is really that easy for someone to cut me out of a shared tradition, swap in a romantic interest, and carry on happily as if nothing changed. It probably actually improved the tradition for them. They didn't even notice that the swap took the tradition away from me. And it's normal because no one matters if they aren't someone's partner. I don't matter.

This week, I may have to turn down a job interview because moving away to take the job wouldn't be the right thing to do during this critical situation. Tonight, I had a hot flash and worried that maybe, this time it wasn't from anxiety. Maybe my past self's compilation of wrong choices has already closed more doors for me than I thought. I hate that being a person with a uterus makes me have to think that way.

But there I go again. Always the victim, right?

Until next time, x.