The Payoff of Playing the Victim As An Identity

June 1, 2026

Diane Russell Chrestman, LCSW | Mental Health Counselor, Corporate Mindfulness Trainer, Speaker, Author of Zenergy Mindfulness

Joshua Bennett-Johnson, Subject Matter Expert

If someone has ever accused you of playing the victim, pause before dismissing them. The people who know us best can often recognize the roles we play before we see them ourselves. What follows is something I know not from theory, but from lived experience. 

Recognizing that you identify with being a victim is the first step. The second — and harder step —  is having the courage to ask why.

I want to be clear. I am not denying that real victimization exists. Sometimes we do genuinely horrible things to one another. 

Sometimes nature seems to hiccup on some grand cosmic stage, and people are born into terrible illness or peril. And some of our brothers and sisters arrive in a world so disadvantaged that their struggles seem insurmountable. 

But I am not talking about cosmic hiccups. I am turning the lens to learn about how we often identify with them — and how we can begin to wear our suffering as a victim identity. 

My Story Begins In Childhood

I still don't know what came first — the chicken or the egg. Did alcoholism fuel the poverty, or did the poverty fuel the alcoholism? What I do know is that they fed each other in a continuous loop that eventually resulted in me dropping out of high school and then landing briefly in foster care. 

A few decades later, I was in graduate school studying to become a therapist. One day, a professor introduced us to a tool called the Adverse Childhood Experience (ACE) questionnaire. The ACE assessment measures exposure to ten categories of childhood trauma. 

Research has consistently shown that higher ACE scores correlate with significantly greater risk of mental health challenges, chronic illness, and other difficulties in adulthood. Problematic alcohol & substance abuse are correlated with a higher ACE score. 

To introduce the tool, our professor had us line up against the wall. Then the questions began.

"If you ever witnessed domestic violence as a child, take a step forward." "If you have ever experienced food insecurity or unstable housing, take a step forward." 

By the time it was over, I had crossed to the other side of the room. I had the highest ACE score in the class.

Something shifted in me that day — but not in a helpful way. My suffering had been quantified, labeled, and confirmed as statistically significant. And that is when the ego stepped in and whispered: You are broken. You are a victim.

I had never felt that voice with such intensity. It was insistent and subtle at the same time, slipping into my consciousness before I noticed its arrival.

Here Is What The Victim Identity Voice Taught Me To Do 

In relationships, it coached me to perform my brokenness.

If I can get you to see how damaged I am, you'll lower your expectations. You wouldn't expect a broken vase to hold water, would you? Then don't expect someone like me to regulate her emotions, to show up with integrity, or to consider anyone's needs but her own.

And then — a whisper from somewhere deeper inside of me: What a relief!

Because acting with integrity is sometimes quite a challenge, emotional regulation is hard, too. 

Identifying with brokenness gave me a pass on accountability. My brokenness was the currency I could spend to avoid accountability and, when needed, to manipulate.

I played that card for years.

Internal Family Systems (IFS) Therapy

Internal Family Systems (IFS) Therapy offers a compassionate framework for understanding this. In IFS, the parts of us that carry the raw pain and terror of our earliest wounds are called exiles — they hold the memories, the shame, the grief. But the psyche is resourceful. 

Other parts, called protectors, step in to ensure we never feel that pain directly. They build identities, roles, and strategies around us like armor. The victim role did serve a purpose. 

I learned to manipulate relationships — and the people who cared about me — to obtain the resources I needed to survive. It also protected me from the terrifying waters of accountability.

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Why Trauma Keeps Coming Back 

The Turning Point Wasn't Dramatic

It came on gradually, as I began to notice that feeling strong, capable, and simply decent, also felt good. Not as a replacement for my story — but alongside it. 

The difficult conditions of my childhood and my inner strength were never opposite. They co-existed. 

As I began practicing emotional regulation, taking accountability, and investing in the kinds of relationships I actually wanted, something loosened. It felt like stretching a tight muscle. I discovered I was far more than the worst things that had happened to me.

Just Notice

Just notice. Observe. Notice the inner dialogue that reaches for the victim role when things get hard — when you don't get what you want, when a challenge feels too challenging, when excuses come easily. 

Don't judge it. Approach it with curiosity and self-compassion. Ask what it is trying to protect you from & what it is trying to show you.

Bad things have happened to you. Genuinely awful things. But they are not your essence. There is something underneath the emotional scars — something wise, something curious, something that has survived every hard thing so far.

Find that. Build from there.

Your true essence is as vast as the sky. 

You are far more than your worst experiences.

You are not defined by what happened to you. You are defined by what you choose to do next.

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Read Diane's bio by clicking her icon at the start of this article.

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