What to do about the annoying victim on the couch (+ Breitenbush scoop)

It’s time!

BREITENBUSH time! I just found out today that registration is well underway and we’re filling, including two men already (sometimes I get the question, how many men are attending)? It’s an absolutely lovely group.

Breitenbush is in the lush old-growth forest of Oregon in the most glorious fairyland you’ve ever seen. A place for mind, body, spirit renewal…the dining hall serves three amazing vegetarian organic meals per day, there are mineral hotsprings and sauna for soaking, and you have your choice for accommodations including adorable little warm cabins. June 22-26, 2016.

An incredible time for identifying what’s going on within you that you find disturbing, where your stressful thoughts come from, and learning and practicing the powerful four questions known as The Work of Byron Katie.

Our retreat is called Declare Peace, and my wonderful assistant and friend Susan Beekman brings her big heart, clarity, and long-time experience in facilitation of The Work to our group. Limited to 26 people, and we do sell out. Make your reservations soon to get the best sleeping arrangement. Come soak in inquiry…and peace.

24 Credits for Candidates in Institute for The Work, 26 CEUs for mental health professionals (Washington State Society for Clinical Social Work). Forward this to friends. Would so love to meet you!

(Secret surprise….everyone who comes to Breitenbush gets free access to Summer Camp for The Mind, the follow-up online camp of five calls per week, you can dial-in any time and keep on doing The Work July and August).

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Did you hear him say that?

I was having a conversation, on the inside of my own head, about one of my first clients when I first started out.

This client had one complaint after another. My terrible childhood. My horrible ex-wife. That awful accident. That ridiculous family growing up.

All the reasons why he screwed up and failed and can’t get a job, or can’t support his kids, or can’t quit smoking, and why he was an alcoholic for many years.

He’s such a victim.

Yeah, I agree 100%.

Refer him to someone else.

No kidding, he’s outta here. I am never meeting with this guy again!

My mind was already chattering away based on about three hours of being with him (three sessions), declaring that his perception of being alive was like a theater on 1^st avenue downtown….

….All Victim All of The Time! Victims Come On In–Open 24 Hours Day Or Night! Nobody Loves Me! Nobody Cares About Me!

Ew.

Can’t he see how sorry he feels for himself, like he’s missed out when all these other people got the breaks?

I especially love the victim story of how he got accepted to Yale but his parents wouldn’t pay tuition, and he would have been classmates with “x” famous person.

And how his former wife created real war against him.

Such a shame, shame, shame, such a shame.

That’s his trumpet call….or maybe the oboe or the cello is more like it. Oh wait. The violin, that’s right.

But while this energy began to rise, sitting in his presence….listening….I also had another voice.

And I’m not talking about the voice that says what a mean, nasty person I am for being so harsh and presuming to know what’s best for this guy (he should stop being such a victim! duh!) or that I’m so horrible and un-spiritual and holier-than-thou and I should be more forgiving to this person and all sentient beings and stop being such an ass.

No. Not that voice. Not the Spiritual Advisor Voice.

Those two used to fight it out all the time. Getting nowhere, I might add. (You may have noticed this within yourself).

This was a new voice, a new sort of energy.

It had the feel of….

.….“Hey, do you notice how annoyed you’re getting with this man? This is worthy of inquiry. This is one of those places to look. Feel it. Find out what’s going on. Listen, listen. Don’t give up so quick about ever seeing him again.”

I remembered how some people I had thought of as the biggest victims in the world, who had really dreadful stories they could keep beefing up forever, surprised me with their wisdom and insight after doing The Work.

Or, not even that. They didn’t “need” to do The Work….they could be themselves and NEVER do The Work if they didn’t want to, and they showed me something unique and interesting. A wall I hit up against. A closet I needed to open.

So I remembered, for some weird reason that was not planned and not expected and I wasn’t “trying” to be “good” in my thoughts (thank God almighty) to be there with him, without my story.

Like a whisper.

Who would you be without your story right now, as you’re looking into this person’s eyes and sitting with them and watching them try to express how hurt they are, and how disappointed, and how full of despair and how hard it is to have the world done them wrong, and what a mess it all is?

What if I didn’t know why this guy was here, wanting to do The Work with me, but I assumed it was GOOD that he was here, with me…..FOR ME?

Wow. Yikes.

Interesting.

It didn’t mean I have to invite him to stay longer than an hour, or come back next week for that matter. Or ever see him again.

“Let’s slow down, and look at what you’re thinking here” I said.

“Let’s look at one single thought only, in one moment in time, in just one situation you’ve mentioned.”

He looked up, as if out of a trance.

“OK.”

He stopped talking. I suggested he look down at his worksheet and fill it out. He was sitting there with a blank worksheet, and 15 minutes had already passed into the hour-long session.

Now, it was dead quiet for a few minutes, while he scratched away with a pencil.

Later, I filled out my own worksheet on him, going backwards into that moment when I felt like I couldn’t stand another whiney comment.

“He should stop being such a bloody victim.”

Is it true?

Yes. Yes. Yes. I hated that energy, that story. So sticky, so needy, so addictive. Everyone else’s fault.

Can you absolutely know it’s true he should stop being such a victim?

Can you absolutely know he IS a victim?

Oh.

Wait.

You mean….he might not be a victim? Well, that’s crazy. Did you hear his stories?

I took a deep breath.

I suddenly noticed something profound. I had joined in believing almost instantly that he WAS a victim, and he should therefore stop.

I could only assume he should stop being that victim over there if I assumed he actually was.

Was he?

Could I absolutely KNOW it?

Yikes….but did you hear the highlights of his life, his tone, his attitude, his powerlessness, his……

No. Even though he was practically trying to convince me (and it basically worked, I realized, for awhile) I did not KNOW for sure he was a victim.

How do I react when I believe he’s a victim, or anyone is?

Strangely, I want to attack that person. Like I actually want to smack them away from me.

Sitting more deeply with this reaction….it’s a fear. I feel myself getting sucked into the story, I want to resist, I don’t like this dark story, I don’t like the river of They Did It To Me, or Life Is A Bitch.

I want to kill that story, like they say in the newspapers.

So who would I be without this thought that he’s a victim, and he should stop?

Wow.

It feels a little detached. Is this OK?

It feels like a gulp of grief in the throat, but a knowing where this is all going is actually very mysterious and very unknown. I might even hear what he’s saying and know he is a life force sitting here with me, right across from me, sharing this air and space and time and moment, just the way the floor, the carpet, the clock on the wall, the bookcase, and the doorknob are sharing this space in this moment.

Who would I be without the belief he’s had it bad? (And, it’s OK to imagine this thought, I’m not betraying his story or making it wrong that he’s telling it).

I’d be with him the same way I can be with the flower on the table.

Sort of in awe at how strange, how pretty, how unknown this living thing is, and feeling it alive with me fully in this moment….knowing it will also be gone soon, and this is the Way Of It.

Without the belief in Victimhood, and how it should be avoided (ha ha) I notice how we made it this far, both he and I. No idea what’s going on. But we’re sitting together. Here. That’s it.

What’s the opposite? What’s the turnaround?

He’s not a victim, and he shouldn’t stop being what he is, either.

Kinda funny, right?

Let’s look.

He is not a victim. He’s powerful, he’s life, he’s a creature, he’s sitting there making noise called “words” and “talking”. Why not? It’s a free country!

(I see a lightening flash image of a kid in my fourth grade class joking around. His white teeth bright as he smiles and laughs, running away towards the ball….”it’s a free country!!” and we’re all laughing, some kids shouting protests, everyone set loose with the joy of playing).

He should be exactly the way he is, in that moment.

I shouldn’t be a victim, not of his story (thinking I need to brace against his words like they could bother me), and not of my own version of the world and my Bad Stuff Happens view I get into if you give me just a teensy reason to worry (it doesn’t take much).

Why should he be as he is?

Well, it appears people go through rough events, to say the least, in this world. He’s reporting about his experience on the front line.

Grieving about these events is powerful. It helps them be expressed and moved through. We all know the “keep it to yourself” story doesn’t work so good. It often leads to suppression, addiction, ticks.

Why should this man be as he is FOR ME, the one apparently playing the facilitator role in that moment?

Because I got this amazing chance to question Victim-ness, in someone sitting across from me.

The most amazing turnaround is that he shows me….myself.

What I’m against. What I think I can’t handle.

Can I allow him to be just as full of complaints as he is? Why not?

Can I allow myself to be just as full of my complaints as I am?

Doesn’t that feel lighter and easier and less controlled?

Ha ha. Yes!

“What happens when we drop all the labels, all the learned descriptions, and face the raw energy of life, as it is in this moment, without trying to change, escape from, or cling to it? What happens when we drop all descriptions of what this moment is or is not and deeply feel into present sensations? This is where the real adventure of life begins…..It is the falling away of all ideas of how this moment should be.” ~ Jeff Foster in The Deepest Acceptance

This moment (the one back then) should have included a man telling me a long story of his own powerlessness, suffering, and how it wasn’t his fault.