From Grave Digger to Victor

I was driving the other day and thought about something mean someone said to me a while ago. It just popped up outta nowhere. I got angry all over again, and then I started thinking about all the other mean things people have said to me over the years. Before I knew it, I came to the conclusion that folk just don’t like me.

From there, I was about to spiral into self-loathing—but then I caught myself.

Those few people don’t define me. Everyone doesn’t have to like me or agree with me.

Where did I even get that notion?

I think it’s because, as a child, I never felt heard or liked. I carried that into my adult years, and it has not served me. It’s immature, and I’ve been wrapped in my own little world for too long. But lately, I’ve been thrust back into the real world and have started making some serious strides. Everything from revamping my personal website to turning it into a hub for self-reflection and healing.

I want to win in life—not just look like I’m winning.

Since starting this journey, I’ve been catching my thoughts as they happen. I question where they’re coming from, and if they’re not from God, I cast them out. That day, as those self-defeating thoughts started rising up, I stopped them in their tracks and said, I forgive all of it—and everyone involved.

Then instantly…

I was reminded of this sweet couple I met at church in the early 2000s. They were always so kind to me—every Sunday, they held a seat for me in the second row. And after thinking of them, other great people came to mind. People God sent throughout the years to encourage me, to uplift me, to love me well.

I was reminded that there have always been far more people on my side than not.

But I’ve been guilty. Guilty of skipping over thirty positive comments just to stew over one or two negative ones. I was trying to avenge and defend this dead flesh! Trying to get them to like me. To see my side. To accept me.

Here’s the problem: my flesh is supposed to be dead and buried with Jesus. But every time something happens, I grab a shovel. I become a grave digger—giving my flesh a platform to vent, to “feel,” to pout. It was immature. This desperate need to defend and avenge myself has cost me time, peace, and progress.

But not anymore.

When I shifted my focus from the insults and criticisms to the many praises, I smiled. I thanked the Lord. A tear formed in my eye when I thought about how patient God has been with me—how kind He’s been to hold my hand and lead me into this deep revelation.

All this time, I thought I was lacking something. But everything I need is already within me—because He dwells in me.

I’ve wasted enough time focusing on the wrong things.

Not anymore.

I will live from the inside out.

I’m no victim.

I’m a VICTOR.