Winning at Recovery
In the turbulent aftermath of a relationship scam, a subtle yet dangerous narrative can take root in the mind of the victim: the belief that they can “win.”
This language of competition and victory is a seductive trap, a psychological defense mechanism that masks the depth of the trauma by reframing it as a game or a battle to be fought. The victim begins to see their recovery not as a process of internal healing, but as a contest against the scammer. They talk about “getting the last word,” “exposing them,” or “making them pay” as if these actions constitute a final, triumphant score. This mindset is not only a profound misunderstanding of what recovery entails, but it is also a powerful force that actively drives them further away from genuine peace and mental health.
The core problem with the “winning” mentality is that it keeps the victim’s focus firmly fixed on the external world, on the scammer, the crime, and the pursuit of justice. While a desire for accountability is natural and healthy, it becomes a destructive obsession when it is framed as a victory to be achieved. The victim’s emotional energy, which is a finite and precious resource in the wake of trauma, is poured into tracking the scammer’s online activities, gathering evidence, and fantasizing about their downfall. Every moment spent on this external crusade is a moment not spent on the internal work of healing. It is a profound distraction from the painful but necessary tasks of processing grief, confronting shame, and rebuilding a sense of self that has been shattered. The mind, desperate to avoid the overwhelming pain of its own wounds, chooses the seemingly empowering path of a fighter. But this path leads not to victory, but to a state of perpetual warfare, where the trauma remains the central focus of their life.
Furthermore, the concept of “winning” implies a finality that is simply not available in this context. There is no finish line, no trophy, no moment where a referee declares you the victor. The scammer is an anonymous, often untouchable entity operating in a different jurisdiction with a different set of rules. The pursuit of a decisive “win” is a chase after a phantom, a quest for a satisfaction that can never be delivered. This endless pursuit only prolongs the victim’s entanglement with the abuser. The scammer continues to live in their head, a constant antagonist in their personal drama. This prevents the psychological distance required for healing. You cannot recover from a poison while you continue to hold the vial, studying its ingredients and plotting revenge against its maker. You must put it down and walk away.
This competitive framework is fundamentally at odds with the true nature of trauma recovery. Healing is not a battle; it is a process of surrender. It is about surrendering the need for revenge, surrendering the illusion of control, and surrendering the fantasy of a perfect, tidy ending. It is about turning your gaze inward and doing the quiet, difficult work of self-compassion, grief, and rebuilding trust in yourself and the world. Peace is not won; it is cultivated. It is found not in the defeat of an enemy, but in the acceptance of what happened and the gentle, persistent effort to create a new life based on truth and self-worth. By framing recovery as a game to be won, victims are setting themselves up for perpetual failure. They are measuring their progress against an external benchmark that is irrelevant to their well-being, ensuring they will always feel like they are not doing enough, that they have not yet “won.” The only way to truly win is to stop playing the game altogether, to walk off the field, and to begin the quiet, profound, and non-competitive work of healing your own heart.
