Before we begin, I want to acknowledge something. Yes, terrible things happened to you. Yes, you were hurt, betrayed, or failed. Yes, it was deeply and profoundly unfair. Your pain is valid. Your scars are real. Nothing I am about to say is intended to minimise that reality.
Now that we have established that, we need to have a hard conversation, and my job is to guide you towards the truth, especially when it’s uncomfortable.
Your past is a fact. It is a series of events that happened. But if your past is becoming a life sentence? That is a choice you are making every single day. Acknowledging what happened to you is a necessary part of healing. But using your past as a permanent excuse for your present is choosing to remain a victim forever.
You are living in a prison cell you have built out of your own history. The door is unlocked. It has always been unlocked. But you refuse to leave.
It is vital to understand the difference between using your past as a place of reference and using it as a place of residence.
Using your past as a reference is healthy. It means looking back to understand how you were shaped. It is the work of therapy, of journaling, of self-reflection. It is seeing how a past betrayal made you cautious, or how a past failure made you resilient. It is honouring the journey and the person who survived it. It provides context for who you are today.
Using your past as a residence is toxic. It is when the story of what happened to you becomes your entire identity. It is when “I was hurt” transforms into “I am a broken person”. It is when “I was let down” becomes “I will always be let down”. You stop being a person who experienced a terrible thing, and you become the terrible thing that happened.
Think of it like a shipwreck. It was a real, catastrophic event. Referencing the shipwreck is honouring the dead, salvaging what you can from the wreckage, and learning the lessons that will help you build a better, stronger ship. Residing in the shipwreck is building a hut from the broken timbers on a deserted beach and telling yourself you can never sail again because the storm was too cruel.
Why would anyone choose to live in a prison? This is the question you must be brutally honest about. Because on some level, you are getting a payoff from staying there.
The Payoff of a Clear Identity: “Victim” is a powerful and simple identity. It explains everything. It gives you a reason for your struggles. To let go of that identity is to step into the terrifying void of “Who am I without my pain?”
The Payoff of Lowered Expectations: The story of your past is the ultimate excuse. It gives you permission not to try. Of course you can’t build a successful business, look what you’ve been through. Of course you can’t find a healthy relationship, you’re too damaged. It absolves you of the terrifying responsibility of taking a risk.
The Payoff of Moral Righteousness: Being the one who was wronged can feel validating. It puts you on a moral high ground. You were right, they were wrong. To move on means letting go of that righteous anger, which can be as addictive as any drug.
You are trading your future potential for the grim comfort of these payoffs. It is a terrible bargain.
Here is the central truth that can set you free. Your story doesn't end with what happened to you. It begins with what you choose to do about it.
The past is the one thing in the universe you have zero control over. It is fixed, immutable, and gone. But at this exact moment, you have absolute control over one thing: the next choice you make. The pen is in your hand and you get to write the next chapter of your story.
What happened to you was the inciting incident. It was Chapter One. It was the tragic backstory for the hero. But that is not the whole story. The rest of the book is unwritten, and you are the one who gets to decide what happens next. Are you going to write a story about a character who was defined by that first chapter for the rest of their life? Or are you going to write a story about a hero who used that pain, that injustice, and that fire to forge themselves into something stronger, wiser, and more compassionate?
Stop acting like a side character in the story of your own life. You are the protagonist. You deserve this character development. This redemption arch. It is time to start acting like it.
This is not about pretending the past does not exist. This is about integrating it and moving forward. Here is your work.
Step 1: Separate the Facts from the Story.
Take a piece of paper and draw a line down the middle. On the left side, write down the objective facts of what happened. Be clinical. “I lost my job.” “My parents divorced.” “My partner cheated on me.” On the right side, write down the story you have attached to those facts. “I am a failure.” “I destroy every family I am part of.” “I am unlovable.” Seeing the raw fact next to the painful story you’ve created is the first step to separating them.
Step 2: Write a New Chapter Heading.
The story of your past has a title. Maybe it’s “The Betrayal” or “The Great Failure”. That chapter is finished. What is the title of the chapter you are starting today? It does not have to be grandiose. It can be something simple like “The Rebuilding”, “Learning to Trust Myself”, or “Finding My Footing”. Write this new title down. This is your declaration of intent.
Step 3: Take One Protagonist’s Action.
A hero is not defined by their feelings, but by their actions. If a character does something without fear no one cares. If they do it despite being afraid, we consider them an inspiration. Based on your new chapter title, what is one small, concrete thing you can do today even if you’re afraid? If your chapter is “The Rebuilding”, maybe you spend 20 minutes researching a course. If it's “Learning to Trust Myself”, maybe you make one small decision without asking for anyone else’s opinion. The action must be aligned with the hero of your new chapter, not the victim of your old one. Trust me on this, one day that hero will look back and know that they would have been nothing without your bravery in this moment.
The past was a lesson, not a life sentence. Your pain has given you a depth and wisdom that others may not possess. Do not waste it by staying in a prison of your own making. The world is waiting for your story. Not the one that happened to you, but the one you are going to create.