Trap #5: Playing the Victim

The mindset that makes moving forward impossible

Chapters in this Guide

1. Man Down - Introduction

2. Why I’m Writing this No-BS Guide to Grief for Men

3. What the Hell is Grief Anyway?

4. How and Why Men Grieve Differently

5. What Grief Looks Like for Men in the Real World

6. The Traps Keeping You Stuck

   1. Shoulding All Over Yourself

   2. Trap #2 - Destroying Yourself by Avoiding the Pain

   3. Trap #3 - Locking Everything Away to Survive Another Day

   4. Trap #4 - Trying to Outwork the Pain

   5. Trap #5 - Playing the Victim

7. From Traps to Tools

8. The Tools

   1. How to Focus on What’s In Your Control

One of a man’s deepest fears is becoming a victim. Powerless, trapped, unable to protect himself or the people he loves. Without the strength or knowledge to change his situation. It’s like drowning in quicksand: the harder you fight, the deeper you sink. Eventually, you’re so damn tired you stop fighting altogether.

Grief is a wrecking ball. It doesn’t just knock you down; it obliterates everything you thought was solid. It leaves you free-falling into darkness with nothing to grab onto and no way to stop the descent. That loss of control is terrifying.

Sometimes, loss comes out of nowhere—a child lost to suicide or an accident. A spouse dropping dead of a heart attack. Being let go from a job you loved and depended on. A relationship ending when you thought things were solid.

Other times, you see it coming. A parent with dementia fading away. A marriage unraveling, where every fight feels like one step closer to the end. A terminal diagnosis for someone you love, where every day feels like both a gift and a countdown. Seeing the loss on the horizon doesn’t make it hurt any less. Sometimes, it’s even heavier because you’ve been carrying it long before the final moment arrives.

I remember feeling like I was an unwilling guest on an episode of Oprah. You know the one. The guest’s life is a complete shit show, and you sit there thinking, "Man, that sucks, but it could never happen to me." Then somehow, it does. You become the guy no one in the world wants to trade places with.

My daughter Chloe died drinking and driving. She killed herself and almost killed four other people. Imagine being grateful your kid died instantly. If she’d lived, her life as she knew it would have been over. I’ve thought, many times, that maybe it’s better this way. At least her suffering is over. What a fucked-up thing to have to think about.

I’ve spent countless hours trying to make sense of it all, looking for answers I know don’t exist. "How could my little girl have died this way? Why did I have to lose Chloe too? Wasn’t losing Cindy enough for one lifetime?"

Loss feels so goddamn unfair. It’s like God flipped your world upside down, and nothing makes sense anymore. Trying to sort it out is exhausting. And when you’ve got no energy and no answers, it’s easy to give up. That surrender leads to one of the most dangerous traps: the victim mindset.

The Two Faces of Victimhood

Victimhood has two faces. The first is the one I lived for years: denying responsibility. Responsibility for the role I played in my past and for my life in the present. This kind of victimhood hides behind the mask of strength. You tell yourself that surviving is the same as healing. That holding it all together on the outside means you’ve got it handled. But underneath, you’re stuck. Stuck in shame, stuck in guilt, stuck in a version of your story that doesn’t let you move forward.

For me, it looked like numbing my pain with booze. It looked like telling a polished version of my story, carefully edited to make me look good. I avoided the hard truths about who I was and where I was headed if I didn’t change.

The second face of victimhood is louder and easier to spot. It’s the guy who’s always complaining, always blaming the world for how unfair life is. Every thought, every conversation circles back to the same point: “Why me? Why did this have to happen?” This isn’t just about self-pity—it’s about making your pain your identity. The deeper you go, the harder it gets to imagine anything else. You stop looking for solutions because the story feels safe. Safe from responsibility, safe from the hard work of moving forward.

This version feeds on itself. You start believing the world is out to get you. It shows up as complaining, withdrawing, or blaming anyone or anything around you. The deeper you lean into this mindset, the harder it gets to see anything beyond the pain and loss. All your energy goes into focusing on what’s gone and how unfair it all feels. But instead of relief, all you get is more of the same—more hopelessness, more anger, more stuck.

Both faces of victimhood share the same core problem: they trap you in the past. Whether you’re quietly avoiding responsibility or loudly declaring how unfair life is, the result is the same. You replay the same story over and over, instead of giving yourself the power to write a new one.

How I Stayed Stuck

After Cindy died, I would have sworn I wasn’t a victim. "Me, a victim? Hell no." I went to work every day. I hit the gym hard. I ate clean. I built a new family. I wasn’t curled up in the fetal position, crying about how unfair life was. I was out making things happen.

But looking back now, I can see the truth: I was stuck. I drank myself to sleep every night, numbing the thoughts and emotions I didn’t want to face. I wore my past like a badge of honor. I told my story over and over, always casting myself as the hero. But inside, I wasn’t moving forward. I was stagnant and afraid.

Sure, I’d done things I was proud of. I begged Cindy to get help. I went to every appointment with her. I cared for her when she couldn’t get out of bed. I fought like hell to give my daughters as normal a life as possible in the middle of chaos.

But I carried a lot of shame too. Plenty of moments where I came up short. I was unfaithful to Cindy while she was locked in a psych ward, her brain scrambled with electro-shock therapy. I said horrible things to her out of anger, fear, and hurt. Behind her back, I tore her down, desperate to convince others—and myself—that she was the problem, not me. And the drinking? I drowned everything I didn’t want to deal with in booze.

During some of the hardest times with Cindy, I reached out to my employee assistance program. Admitting I needed to talk to someone was a huge step. They connected me with a counselor, and what did I do? I sat there and unloaded all the ways Cindy was crazy. I shared every detail of her worst moments so he’d see how impossible my situation was. I wasn’t looking for real help—I was looking for validation. If I could convince him I was the victim of her chaos, maybe I could convince myself too.

And here’s the truth: I wasn’t being honest. I lied to his face every session. I told him I had “a few beers a few times a week,” when I was drinking hard every night. I didn’t admit how scared I was—scared for my family, scared for myself. I didn’t tell him about the things I’d done that kept me up at night. I didn’t own my mistakes or my pain. Instead, I built a story that made me look good and proved why I didn’t need real help.

That’s world-class victim shit right there. Spending all your energy pretending you’re fine while staying stuck in the same cycle. I wasn’t moving forward. I wasn’t healing. I was hiding behind the mask of someone who had it all together because admitting I needed help felt like admitting I wasn’t strong enough.

The Real Problem With Victimhood

The "poor me" mindset is easy to spot in others. We’ve all been around that guy. The one who’s always complaining, always blaming the world for how hard he’s got it. He sucks the energy out of every room. You look at him and think, "Man, you’re doing this to yourself."

But when it’s you, it’s harder to see. Even when people try to tell you, you shrug it off. "I’m not being negative—I’m being real. If they lived my hell, they’d understand." But all you’re doing is fueling the story that’s keeping you stuck. The more you feed it, the more it blinds you to the possibilities ahead. When a man starts to believe there’s no way forward, nothing good comes next.

Victimhood isn’t about wallowing in what happened to you. It’s about refusing to take responsibility for what comes next. Responsibility doesn’t mean taking on blame for things you couldn’t control. It means owning what you can control—the life you’re building now.

Without responsibility, you’re not just mourning the past. You're sacrificing the present and the future too. You’re giving up your power to change your own life. Staying stuck in the same story might feel safe, but it’s a slow death. And the longer you hold onto it, the heavier that weight becomes.

So here are the questions to chew on: What story are you living right now? Is it one that keeps you stuck in the past, or one that moves you forward? What would it take for you to let go of the weight you’ve been carrying? If no one is coming to save you, what’s the first step you can take to save yourself?

YOUR NEXT STEPS: Learn The Most Important Relationship Skill You Were Never Taught

Ever been in a conversation where someone was grieving, upset, or overwhelmed—and you had no idea what to say?

Maybe you tried to cheer them up, offered advice they didn’t want, or just froze, unsure of how to help. And afterward, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you could’ve shown up better.

💡 You’re not alone. Most people struggle with this—not because they don’t care, but because no one ever taught them how.

That’s why I created The LEAD Model Training—so you can stop second-guessing yourself and start being the person people turn to in their hardest moments.

Here’s What You’ll Walk Away With:

✅ A simple, repeatable framework (Label, Explore, Acknowledge, Decide) that works in any emotional conversation.
✅ Confidence in what to say (and what NOT to say) so you never feel awkward or unsure again.
✅ Proven techniques that make people feel deeply heard—without forcing them to open up.
✅ Real-world role-play scenarios so you’re not just learning, you’re practicing.

Most people:
🚫 Jump to fixing before someone is ready.
🚫 Say things that make people shut down without realizing it.
🚫 Avoid tough conversations altogether out of fear of saying the wrong thing.

But the people who get this right? They build deeper relationships, gain unshakable trust, and become the person others turn to when it truly matters.

🔥 If you’re ready to stop feeling helpless in emotional conversations, join the LEAD Model Training today.