CHAPTER 5
I sat on the bench at mid-morning, staring out at the ocean. The sun had burned off the coastal layer of fog, and the water, stretching out like a blanket buffeted by the wind, covered the earth.
My sleep had been restless. All night Ted’s teachings had churned through my brain like the waves crashing onto the beach below. It was a huge burden, realizing how much of my life had been spent caught up in the Victim Orientation. How many times had I traveled around the DDT, that toxic Dreaded Drama Triangle? As I lay awake in bed, my mind wandered from the mundane to the monumental, considering all the highs and lows of my life in light of this new viewpoint.
A few days earlier my flight to the coast had been delayed in Chicago, and like the other passengers, I was anxious to get where I was going. We were all victims of the weather that day, and the havoc it had wreaked on the flow of airport arrivals and departures. I remember how some travelers approached the gate agents as potential Rescuers, as if the buttons on their computer keypads could accomplish instant magic. When the ticket agents promised that they would only announce new information when it became available, I watched those same passengers begin treating the agents as Persecutors.
When had I first taken up the Victim Orientation? I guess it went back to my early family life. No doubt my parents had loved me and did the best they could, but they had unwittingly repeated certain unhealthy patterns from their own upbringing. I suppose if I followed the genealogical map of the Victim Orientation, it would lead all the way back to early humans and the fight, flee, or freeze reactions that had helped them survive to populate the world. And now evolution had placed me at this critical choice point: I had the opportunity to break the Victim cycle, to stop the patterns that passed it on from generation to generation. The prospect was overwhelming.
I was also excited. Something new was about to happen! There was a more fulfilling way of being in the world after all, and I knew that today Ted would give me some clues about how to live it. Or so I hoped. We had left things fairly open-ended the day before. What if he didn’t show up? I had no phone number, no way to contact Ted. I took a deep breath of salt air and let it go. I decided to trust the process.
I closed my eyes and offered a prayer of gratitude. I had found a wise friend, and now I had the time to consider our conversation, maybe even start putting it all to good use. I took a slow, full breath. The salt air and the sound of waves on the shore blended with the calls of seagulls overhead. The breeze brushed my cheek. I felt calm, at peace.
Ted cleared his throat. I opened my eyes and there he was, standing with his staff in hand. I had not even heard him approach. He smiled. I nodded. We were ready to begin again.
Moving Beyond the Victim Story
I tucked my journal under my arm and we started toward the path. Silently we made our way down to the beach, and this time I managed not to fall. As we passed the point where I had slipped the day before, Ted noticed the difference.
“I see you stayed upright—congratulations!” Ted observed. “You walked differently just now as you approached the place where you slipped yesterday.”
“I guess I learned from the experience,” I chuckled. “I was a lot more aware of that spot today, so I came at it a little differently.”
“You learned from your experience. You stayed aware of the lessons of yesterday’s fall, and that gave you the option to choose a new approach just now. That’s what I want to explore with you today. There is a different approach to your life that will serve you much better than the DDT and the Victim Orientation,” said Ted. Then he went on, “What a fine day!”
And it was: clear sky, a brilliant sun, and the tide moving out to reveal the smooth sand that had served as Ted’s blackboard the day before. My pace quickened as we reached the edge of the shore. As the waves lapped and smoothed over the sand, I noticed a woman in the distance who seemed to be looking our way. She waved and started walking toward us.
Ted turned to me and said, “I’ve invited someone to join us, David. Her name is Sophia. A couple of years ago we met on this beach and had much the same conversation that you and I had yesterday.”
Sophia smiled and gave Ted a hug. She kissed him on the cheek, and he held her at arm’s length, studying her face. “It’s been a while, my friend,” he said.
Sophia’s hazel eyes sparkled. “It’s been too long. Not a day goes by, though, that I don’t think of you.” I studied Sophia. Her light auburn hair fell around her shoulders, blowing in the sea breeze. She reached into her beach bag and brought out a baseball cap and an exercise band. In one swift motion, she pulled on the cap to tame her hair and placed the stretchy band around her wrist. Then she turned to me.
“And you must be David,” she said warmly. Before I knew it, she had taken both my hands in hers. With a penetrating look, she said, “You’re a fortunate one to have met Ted, you know. That bench up there is a magical spot.”
“You met Ted there too, then? I think he told me a little about your story yesterday. When did you two meet?” I asked.
“A little over two years ago. I had just split up with my husband, Dan.”
I nodded. “There seems to be a pattern here: marriages and relationships coming to an end.”
“It’s no accident that Ted brought us together today. He tends to do that,” Sofia replied, smiling. “So often people come to a point in their lives where they are ready to make a significant change and it is helpful to benefit from the experience of others who have been down a similar path. For some, like you and me, it is through close relationships that perhaps are no longer working. But Ted has met other people who found their way out of Victimhood for different reasons and in different aspects of their lives. Some were fed up with office politics or had hit bottom in their addictions. Others had breakdowns in their families or while facing death. The ways people arrive at this choice point are as varied as the human experience.”
A young couple walked by arm in arm, oblivious to us on their romantic walk down the beach. I felt an inner tug of envy and a stab of loneliness. “Tell me more about yourself, Sophia.”
“I assume that Ted mentioned my husband, Dan, and how he had an affair,” Sophia answered. “I could say that was the reason we divorced, but that would only be a half-truth, because I was doing the other half of the DDT dance. There was so much hurt and anger in our relationship those last few months. We had created a pretty abusive, toxic environment—a vicious cycle of playing out those same dynamics again and again.
“But I don’t talk about that much anymore,” she continued. “It’s not who I am now, so I rarely tell those old Victimhood stories.” Sophia glanced at Ted.
“Sophia is referring to something of vital importance, David. The way you talk about yourself and your life— your story—has a great deal to do with what shows up in your day-to-day experience. Your thoughts create filters through which you view your life. If you think of yourself as a Victim, you filter all that happens to you through the lens of the DDT, and you find plenty of evidence to support that viewpoint. That’s why the orientation you adopt is so important: it exerts a powerful influence on your life direction.”
“I’m very clear about not wanting to live my life from the Victim Orientation anymore,” I said. “But you’ve got to tell me: what’s the alternative? I stayed awake for hours last night contemplating everything we talked about. There’s got to be an alternative to the DDT and the Victim Orientation.”
Now Ted and Sophia were both smiling at me.
“Well?” I said, a little impatient.
“The opposite of Victim is Creator,” said Ted.
I did a double take. Ted’s answer echoed the response I had heard from within myself just the day before. Had I imagined it? Just what was going on here?