When You're Done Being The Victim

One of the most profound things a mum has ever said to us is this:

“I’m so, so grateful I found you at this time. I don’t want to be a victim anymore. I’ve played that role for 45 years. Time to stand up and lead.”

I think about that sentence all the time.
Because inside it sits everything we stand for.
Hope.
Awareness.
Courage.
And the moment a woman decides she’s done living small.

It’s the kind of sentence that feeds our souls.

Why This Work Matters So Much

One of the coaching models we use is Karpman’s Drama Triangle.
It reveals the roles we slip into, often without realising:

• Victim

• Rescuer

• Persecutor

We all move between them.
We all get pulled into the story, the tension, the drama.
And sometimes we play all three roles… in one interaction.

The real freedom comes when you can finally see the role you tend to default to.
Because once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
And only then can you step off the stage, where the friction finally begins to dissolve.

Most mums we work with flip between victim and rescuer.
I did too, for decades.

My Own Wake-Up Moment

For years my inner narrative was:

“Why me? This is so unfair.”
followed very closely by:
“It’s fine, I’ll do it all.”

I had no idea how these two states, modelled to me beautifully by my lovely mum: poor me and let me fix everything, were the engine of so much of my stress.

Those thoughts weren’t just unhelpful.
They were toxic.

And nobody wins in those roles.
They feel like the “good girl,” but the toll is relentless:
resentment, physical symptoms, exhaustion, and distance in relationships that matter the most.

Seeing myself clearly was the easy part.
Changing the pattern, something I’d also rehearsed for 45 years, was the real work.

But Change Happens. And It’s Beautiful.

We've witnessed it over and over again:

Women will do anything to relieve their children’s pain.
So they change and they change fast.

And when they do, everything in their world shifts.

Their relationships soften.
The guilt dissolves.
The house becomes lighter.
They reclaim their identity, the one that got buried under years of doing, fixing, absorbing, and holding it all together.

And joy finds a way back in.

There’s a moment in every woman’s life when she realises:

“I can’t keep living like this.”

Not out of defeat.
But out of truth.

And once she sees the part she’s been playing, she becomes unstoppable.
She stops apologising.
She stops rescuing.
She stops waiting for permission.

She stands up.
And her whole life rearranges itself around that decision.