The Danger of Hope for Recent Scam Victims

One of the strange things about victimization is that there are so many different voices in your head, blaming you, shaming you, and more. But there is a quiet voice, a voice hard to hear, but it is there nevertheless, it is the voice of hope. It tells you “I can do this,” “I am strong enough,” “I don’t need help,” “I just need to get over it.” These are quiet, but oh so powerful because they are your hope, the belief in capabilities you do not really have right now.

They are the voice you want to listen to, because they also came from the same place that told you the scam was real. They feel real, they feel safe, they tell you you are strong when in reality, strength has abandoned you. Can you stop listening so that you actually can recover? Or will you listen to that faint voice that tells you that you can do what you can’t right now? We know what is possible, and we know how to help you. Will you let us?

In the disorienting landscape that follows a profound violation like a scam, the mind becomes a battleground. The loudest voices are often the ones of accusation, a chorus of internal critics that echo the shame and blame you feel from the outside. They replay every decision, every red flag ignored, every moment of trust, weaving a narrative of personal failure. Yet, amidst this cacophony, there is another voice. It is not loud or demanding; it is a quiet whisper, a faint but persistent murmur that can be easy to miss but is undeniably there. This is the voice of hope, and it speaks in the language of self-reliance. “I can do this on my own,” it whispers. “I am strong enough. I don’t need help. I just need to get over it.”

These whispers are incredibly powerful because they represent a flicker of the person you were before the world tilted on its axis. They are your hope, your belief in your own capabilities, even though those capabilities feel like a distant memory right now. This is the voice you instinctively want to listen to, because it feels so familiar and so reassuring. It came from the same internal place that once allowed you to believe in the possibility of love, the legitimacy of an opportunity, or the urgency of a crisis. It feels authentic, it feels safe, and most dangerously, it tells you that you are strong precisely when your strength has completely abandoned you. It promises a simple, solitary path forward: just be strong, just endure, just get over it.

But this voice is a siren call, leading you toward the rocks of prolonged suffering. It is a trap born from the very same cognitive wiring that the scammer exploited. The scammer succeeded by creating a false reality that felt true, and now, in the aftermath, your own mind creates a new false reality: the reality of your own self-sufficiency. The belief that you can simply “get over it” is not a sign of strength; it is a profound misunderstanding of the nature of trauma. It is like telling someone with a broken leg to “just walk it off”. The injury is real, the recovery process requires specific tools and support, and ignoring that fact will only lead to an improperly healed limb, vulnerable to re-injury.

The quiet voice of hope that emerges in the aftermath of victimization is often not true hope at all, but rather a cunning form of pride masquerading as hope.

True hope is a vulnerable and forward-looking emotion, one that acknowledges the reality of the present pain while holding onto the belief that a better future is possible, often with the help of others. It whispers, “This is hard now, but it can get better.” The voice you are hearing, however, speaks a different language. It says, “I am strong enough to handle this alone,” and “I don’t need help.” This is not hope; this is pride. It is the ego’s desperate attempt to protect itself from the perceived shame of needing support, to maintain an illusion of invulnerability that was just shattered. It feels powerful because it reinforces a sense of self-sufficiency, but it is a dangerous illusion that isolates you from the very resources necessary for genuine healing.

This pride-based hope is a direct echo of the scammer’s manipulation, which preyed on your desire for agency and control. Just as you were led to believe you were in control of a profitable investment or a blossoming romance, this voice now tries to convince you that you are in control of your recovery. It feels safe because it is familiar, a continuation of the self-reliant narrative that was so cruelly exploited. But listening to it is a form of self-sabotage. It keeps you locked in a cycle of isolation, where the real work of recovery, which requires humility, connection, and the acceptance of guidance, cannot begin. True hope is not the belief that you can do it on your own; it is the courage to admit that you cannot, and the faith to let others help you find the way.

The critical question, then, is one of profound courage: Can you stop listening to that faint voice? Can you silence the whisper that tells you that you can do what you, in this moment, cannot? Or will you continue to heed its call, mistaking its familiarity for wisdom, and in doing so, sabotage your own recovery? To truly heal, you must first accept the reality of your injury. You must acknowledge that the strength you once had is temporarily gone and that the path forward is not one of solitary endurance but of guided convalescence. This is one of the most difficult and most important choices you will face in your recovery journey.

We know what is possible because we have walked this path with others – over 13 million. We know that true strength is not the absence of need, but the courage to admit it. We know how to help you rebuild your trust, not in others, but first in yourself, by providing you with the tools, the strategies, and the support system that were absent before. We can help you understand the mechanics of the manipulation and why simply being human made you vulnerable, so you can stop blaming yourself. We can help you develop new behaviors that will protect you in the future. The voice of self-reliance will tell you to do it alone. We are asking you to consider a different path. Will you let us?

Prof. Tim McGuinness, Ph.D.
January 2026