Have you ever noticed yourself watching the same scene play out in your head, over and over, like you're stuck in some kind of terrible rerun and nobody will let you change the channel? Same worry. Same mistake. Same what if. And you're just sitting there like you have no say in it at all.

I know that feeling from personal experience, because for about twenty years I watched that movie rerun from a specific seat, in a specific place. I called it Victimville. It's the county seat, if you want to get technical about it, in the Land of Hoping and Waiting. You know the place: where you're hoping someone or something changes, and waiting around for it to happen, and in the meantime you've handed over the steering wheel of your life to some other driver. Victimville is where I lived. It’s the place where I sat and watched those reruns. It's the place I eventually had to escape.

Moving Into The Neighborhood

There's a many chaptered story about how I landed in Victimville, more than I'm going to get into here, (if you’re interested I walk through it inside Power Shift™). But I'll tell you about one chapter of it.

My first husband was an alcoholic, and I did not know how to handle that, or what to do with it, so mostly what I did was hope. I hoped things would get better. I hoped he'd change. The whole time I was hoping, I was also waiting, and I felt powerless and victimized.

Then he died in his sleep, suddenly. My kids were three, five, and seven.

After he passed, I wanted so badly to remember the good in him, and there was so much good! He was a phenomenal dad, he was funny, he had this enormous heart. But that's not the movie that kept playing in my head. The movie that kept playing on repeat was the hard stuff. The alcoholism. The fights. The disappointment. One difficult scene after another, along with the narration “Poor Linda, look what she has to endure.”

I lived in Victimville long enough that it felt like home. And since humans tend to stay with the familiar because it seems less scary than the unfamiliar, and especially because I wasn’t convinced I was worthy of something better, I stayed.

How I Escaped Victimville

There came a point where I was all done being a martyr (definition: victim wearing a fancy crown so all can see what she ha to endure). I was all done being in the passenger’s seat of my life. I remember the day I decided to stop settling and start doing…I don’t know what, but something! That decision marked the beginning of my escape from Victimville.

Getting out wasn't one big dramatic exit. It was a bunch of small moves, one after another, each one getting me a little further from that seat in the audience and, eventually, out of Victimville. For good. I'll share a couple of them here.

The Remake

I got so sick of watching my movie on repeat that one day I just decided, this needs a remake. And that decision, small as it sounds, was actually my first step out of Victimville. Because the second I thought remake, I was no longer in the audience. I was sitting in the director's chair.

Should, Can't, Have To

Another move, and this one surprised me with how much it shifted in its simplicity, was noticing three phrases I used constantly: I can't. I have to. I should. I can't leave. I have to deal with this. I should cancel plans with friends so he won’t pick a fight.

I can’t and I have to are shackling phrases, reinforcing the underlying belief that we’re not free. And should carries its own specific flavor of shame, because some part of you already knows what you'd rather be doing, and you're doing something else instead, so now you’re out of integrity with your true self. And that feels not only shameful, but sucky.

So, I started swapping those phrases out in favor of I choose to, or I choose not to, I will, or I won't. I choose not to leave. I choose to deal with this. I won’t cancel plans with my friends. Changing the words handed the choice back to me and reminded me of the freedom of choice I have in every moment. It sounds small but these word substitutions aren’t small at all, and it was another step further out of Victimville.

The Power Shift

I call my third move my Power Shift, and it's the most significant move. I'm not going to unpack it here because it deserves more room than a blog post can give it. Just know it completely shifted how I saw the entire twenty years I had spent in Victimville, not just the marriage. I credit it for creating one of the most profound transformations of my life and it informs how I move through life today. I’ve shared it in keynote presentations and it was so well received that I created a DIY video-based program aptly named Power Shift™. If you’d like to be walked you through the process of turning circumstance into strength and getting back into the driver’s seat of your life, check out Power Shift™ below.

What movie is still playing in your right now, on repeat, like you don't have a say in it? You're allowed to walk into the editing room and sit in the director’s chair. What will your remake look like?

Are there a slew of shoulds, can'ts, and have to’s running in the background of your day, convincing you there's less choice available to you than there actually is? Try the above word substitutions and notice you differently you feel.

Might you be standing in Victimville? Good thing there’s a way out, one small move at time.

**Turn Circumstances into Strength with Power Shift™**

If you've been settling for a while now, tired of living in the Land of Hoping and Waiting and telling yourself someday you'll take control, but there's a voice in the back of your head wondering if you've even got what it takes, you’re exactly who I built Power Shift™ for. It's bite sized: three short videos and a workbook. Doable in a day. A small investment of your time that will yield a BIG shift in how you feel about your past and how you show up moving forward.

This week on Conversations Worth Your While™ — THIS WEEK ON THE PODCAST:
How to Escape the Trap of Your Own Thoughts

I sit down with Dr. Pollyanna Chavez to talk about why our minds keep replaying the same scenes and how we can actually take back the remote.

How I Finally Left Victimville

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