Get What You Want Out Of Life-Lose The Victim Mentality

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What is a Victim mentality? My dear husband describes this as your inner martyr. That part of you that gets pleasure out of thinking: “Poor me, I will never be pretty enough, skinny enough, smart enough. I’m just a waste of human DNA; someone please put me out of my misery”.

The victim is your excuse for:

  • not getting the pretty girl or rich guy

  • coming up short on the promotion at work

  • not closing that prospect

Just fill in the blanks on what you don’t deserve and why. If things are not going your way, you can just call in the Victim, and shed a few tears over your own ineptitude as you just quit trying to succeed at anything at all.

Just fill in the blanks on what you don’t deserve and why. If things are not going your way, you can just call in the Victim, and shed a few tears over your own ineptitude as you just quit trying to succeed at anything at all.

The Victim in you survives by replaying your inner DVD of errors and missteps in your life thus far. If you want more out of this life you have to quit reliving your past. Learn from your mistakes and move on!

I am going to use celebrities as an example here: I am sure you’ve read in the tabloids about some star that, early on, got everything that they wanted. But their Victim tells them everyday that this is not a life that they deserve; the Victim is judge and jury and causes them to make decisions on a daily basis that are guaranteed to prove this out. Driving drunk, committing suicide at the height of their careers, being publicly promiscuous, the list is endless when it comes to the damage that some celebrities inflict on themselves and the people who care about them.

We get out of this life exactly that which matches our expectations, and if you are expecting the worst you will get the worst. If your inner Victim insists that you don’t deserve any better – well, then you don’t. To gain small victories we must let go of our Victim mentality. Lose the Victim and gain a life of happiness and abundance.

How do you let go of your Victim mentality? Well you have to put different thoughts into the compartments of your mind. Fill those spaces with thoughts of future successes small and large; don’t focus on your lack of funds, instead think about what you are going to do with all that money when it’s just sitting in your bank account; replace the words fat, chunky and overweight with thin, healthy, and svelte. In short, you must spring clean your mind and rearrange the furnishings (and change the locks while you’re at it) so that the Victim becomes a homeless person.

Stay focused on your desires, live in the moment secure in the belief that you deserve to live your best life.

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I ,Too, Sing America – The Good Ole Days

I too sing America

I looked in the mirror this morning and noticed that my nose is still broad, my lips are thick, and my skin is still brown (and about to get positively black now that the heat has returned to Georgia); I was thinking about having a nickel for every time I hear someone wishing for the good old days and returning our country to what our forefathers dreamed of , or some such.  I remember the good old days just fine thank you and I like our present days much mo’ better, imperfect as they may be.

I don’t want my kids or my grandkids to be afraid to even drive through certain neighborhoods because they could be mistaken for black people who had come there to start trouble.  When my husband was on tour with El Pus they stayed in some really nice hotels – back in the good old days they would have had to stay at people’s houses or sleep in the car just because they were “colored” .

Back in the old country,  I  lived in a town I lived in a town where bauxite was mined for the Reynolds company. Their executives were all southern whites ( I assume) and they lived on “the hill” where black people could not go unless they were housekeepers, gardeners etc. If a piece of fruit fell on the ground and you picked it up you would be accused of stealing and jailed. When they shopped at the town’s only grocery store, the local “coloreds” were not allowed to shop that day (at least they were nice enough to designate a day for this).  They were OK with us dying in the mines and getting mangled by the equipment though (worker’s comp, disability, pension – all that socialist claptrap, not here man).

When our forefathers wrote the Constitution the certainly weren’t thinking about the rights and freedoms of my husband’s ancestors – neither Cherokee nor African. As a matter of fact, they weren’t thinking about their slaves at all, after all slaves weren’t actually human or anything like that. Giving consideration to slaves would have been like writing provisions into the Constitution for their horses! That would have been Ridiculous, right?

Back in the good old days I most certainly would not have moved TO the South FROM the North. That would have been something like suicide or genocide or some kinda ‘cide.  But don’t get me wrong, the North wasn’t always no crystal stair either. My Mom wanted us to have a house so she moved us to East Flatbush – 3rd Black family in the neighborhood. I heard the word jigaboo more than once, and not in a nice way either (is there a nice way to call someone a jigaboo?) We couldn’t always go play at the neighborhood park, and I remember cowering with Dianne and Cathy in her foyer because Big Rocco and Little Rocco were coming down the street and they would have beat my ass for being Black and beat her and Cathy’s asses for hanging out with ‘niggers’.

What I know is that the world is not now, nor has it ever been, perfect. But it is moving towards perfection every day and in every way. When we try to hold on to the past or roll it back like Walmart rolls back prices, we are actually retarding the progress of the entire world.

So I’m asking you nicely to quit throwing all those prayers out there for a return to “the country of our forefathers”, that is of course unless….OH, I see.

I, Too, Sing America by Langston Hughes
I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

I’ll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody’ll dare
Say to me,
“Eat in the kitchen,”

They’ll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed–

I, too, am America.

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