How to not fall victim to circumstances

...you only get to be a victim once, after that you are a volunteer

There comes a moment in everyone’s life when it feels like the script has been hijacked. The job falls through. The relationship dissolves. The health report stings. Or sometimes, it’s more subtle—the slow drip of monotony, the invisible weight of disappointment, the nagging sense that everyone else got the memo on how to do life right, and you didn’t.

It’s in these moments that circumstances become seductive. They offer us the perfect excuse. “It’s not my fault,” we say, and maybe it isn’t. But slowly, unknowingly, we begin to hand over the pen. We let life write itself on our behalf.

To not fall victim to circumstances is not about denial or delusion. It’s not about pretending things are fine when they’re not. It’s about choosing response over reaction. It’s about reclaiming authorship, even when the plot turns sour.

• radical acceptance first, then action

The first step is not resistance. It’s recognition. Life is not obligated to be fair or linear. Some people are born lucky; others must carve out space where there is none. Accept this, not with bitterness, but with clarity. What you face may not be your fault, but what you do next is your responsibility.

From that place of radical honesty, ask: What is the next right step, however small?

• rewrite the story you’re telling yourself

Circumstances are external. Victimhood is internal. One can experience misfortune without becoming miserable. The shift lies in narration. If you tell yourself that life is always against you, you will act accordingly—cautious, resentful, inert. But if you frame setbacks as setups, then even pain can feel like preparation.

The story you tell yourself becomes the compass you walk with. Make it one of strength, not surrender.

• develop discipline like it’s your only lifeline

Discipline is the quiet rebellion against circumstance. It’s waking up at 6 am even though nothing external is demanding it. It’s showing up to your prep table, even if your heart feels elsewhere. It’s honouring your dreams more than your mood.

You don’t rise above your situation in a single heroic leap. You chip away at it, every day, with unglamorous consistency. The gym, the books, the journaling, the job applications, the networking events you don’t feel like going to—they all count. They all build the scaffolding of a life that doesn't collapse in a storm.

• get ruthlessly selective about what you consume

What you listen to, watch, and read becomes the soil from which your mindset grows. If you’re constantly surrounded by cynicism, gossip, or passive people who’ve surrendered to fate, it becomes harder to remember your agency.

Curate your environment. Follow people who are two steps ahead of you. Read things that make your brain sit up straighter. Save poetry for the soul, podcasts for the commute, and mentors for when your own voice goes quiet.

• lean on love, but don’t wait to be rescued

Support is essential—but passivity is dangerous. Nobody is coming to save you. Not your parents, not your partner, not your professors, not your past successes. They may cheer you on, but the lifting is yours to do. Let love be your oxygen, not your anchor.

• stay future-focused, not fantasy-filled

There’s a difference between vision and delusion. Vision sees the gap between where you are and where you want to be and builds the bridge. Delusion waits for magic. The key is to stay soberly hopeful. Dream, but also plan. Manifest, but also work. Visualise, but also execute.

final thoughts

Not falling victim to circumstances doesn’t mean you always win. It means you don’t hand over your will when things get hard. It means you keep going—not out of blind optimism—but because you owe it to the version of you who still believes in something better.

Life may not unfold exactly how you imagined. But if you can stay awake inside your own narrative, if you can keep your decisions louder than your doubts, you’ll find that even the worst circumstances don’t get the final word.

You do.

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P.S.

If my words have ever made you feel less alone, more understood, or simply reminded you of your own softness, consider buying me a coffee. Your support helps me keep this space honest, slow, and open—for all of us still figuring it out.

Thanks for reading. I’m so glad you’re here.

Love, Anna 💕