Inside Heilsche

I asked myself something today.
What part of me is still addicted to being the victim, even when I wear the mask of the mastermind?

It hit me in a quiet moment. I looked at how I carry myself, how I make decisions, how I play strong. But deep inside, I still feel a small voice saying, “They did this to you.” That voice wants to be seen as the one who got hurt, the one who was left, the one who was never fully loved.

I thought I was done with that. I thought I was in control now. I act like I’m always thinking five steps ahead. I like being the one who doesn’t break, who keeps her cool, who sees through everyone. And yes, that part of me is real. I’ve built it. It protects me.

But sometimes, I catch myself feeling sorry for myself.
Not out loud. Just inside.

Like when I don’t get attention, or when someone chooses someone else, or when I feel unseen. I tell myself, “See? They never cared anyway.” I act like I knew it was coming. Like I expected it. But truth is, part of me still hopes to be the exception. Still wants to be chosen without having to ask.

That’s the victim.
The part that wants someone to feel bad for not loving me right.
The part that thinks I deserve something just because I’ve been through so much.

It’s hard to admit this because I don’t like playing weak.
I don’t want pity.
But I do want understanding.
And maybe that’s the trap. Maybe I’ve been trying to win power by using pain.

I wonder if I’ve used my wounds as currency.
Like, “I’ve suffered enough, so now I deserve peace, love, safety.”
But life doesn’t work that way.
And deep down, I know it.

I’ve seen myself switching masks.
One moment, I’m the one in control.
The next, I’m feeling like the girl who gets left behind again.

It’s confusing.
Because I can be both.

But now I’m asking myself—am I using the victim identity to avoid doing deeper work?
Am I holding onto my old pain just to stay in a role I know too well?

There’s comfort in being the one who was wronged.
Because it means I don’t have to change anything.
It means I get to wait for the apology.
It means I don’t have to take the risk to open again.
But staying there means I also don’t get to grow.

And I’m tired of feeling like I’m stuck between being powerful and being broken.
I want to stop performing both.
I just want to be real.

Yes, I’ve been hurt. Yes, I’ve been used, forgotten, overlooked.
But I’m not staying there anymore.

I don’t want to win by guilt.
I want to win by choice.