Coping
I find it very hard to realise those moments when I'm thinking from a victim mindset. Sometimes I want to feel sorry for myself and I need an excuse to justify why I am where I am in life. Most times the victim mindset manifests itself in my blaming my parents. I'm not this or I'm not that because of the way they raised me, or the way that they acted, etc etc.
Even realising that I've adopted this mindset is not enough to lead me to it's exit. Sometimes (just before writing this) I'll think to myself "Surely there are times when the victim mindset is the accurate one. What about a man imprisoned and tortured in a dungeon?" Unfortunately for my hypothesis (or fortunately for the spirit of man) Viktor Frankl showed us how even in the worst environment - a Nazi deathcamp - man remains responsible and response-able.
The choice I face everyday then is to either hold onto my current pain, my current problems and use coping mechanisms such as the victim mindset, eating junk, alternative problem creation (smoking, dating) and so on to... Well... Cope.
The alternative choice is to accept that I am not a victim, and to accept my responsibility and response-ability and tackle the underlying issue. Which, to be fair, the problem to be at peace with the absurdity and contingency of existence while dealing with existential anxiety is a tough one.
Either path has its own flavour of suffering to endure. Why the latter choice feels like the right one I cannot be too sure. To cope is to accept your current pain as well as the deterioration of your state. Things may get better randomly (lottery ticket) but the underlying problem will always be there because the unwillingness to engage with your life IS the problem. The universe does not solve existential crises for us, apart from the odd random event which kills us.
To do something about it is to face the source of pain head on. And though it sounds noble, it actually really, really sucks. Finding love, losing love. Pouring heart and soul into something, standing back and thinking "This is kinda shit." And then having to restart, over and over and over.
Not to mention the parallel, practical life we have to lead. Work. Bills. Laundry. Food. Victim or not, I have the luxury of wallowing in these esoteric problems.
