How to Deal with Villains
It’s hard to stay grounded when the world keeps throwing plot twists at us.
News after news.
Headline after headline.
Just when your nervous system starts to settle—another story breaks.
It’s been hard. Disorienting. Exhausting.
And in moments like these, our bodies often respond before our minds do. We freeze. We brace. We scroll. We shut down. We look for something—anything—to help us make sense of what’s unfolding.
Which brings me to stories.
Every transformative story has one thing in common: a villain.
Without the villain, the hero’s journey wouldn’t exist. Villains create tension. They disrupt comfort. They force movement. They push the story—and the hero—forward.
Think of Voldemort. Ursula. Scar.
When the villain appears, our first instinct is to hold our breath. To get scared. To freeze. We don’t know how bad it will get—or what it will ask of us.
And this week, for many of us, the villain feels very real.
Very loud.
Very familiar.
Here’s the part we rarely talk about:
Villains show us where the story must change.
Not because the harm isn’t real.
Not because the impact should be minimized.
But because villains force growth—often in ways that are deeply uncomfortable and undeniably necessary.
Villains aren’t just obstacles in the story.
They’re mirrors.
They reflect back the parts of ourselves—and our communities—we’ve been avoiding.
The action we haven't been taking.
As n’betweeners, many of us learned early how to survive by being “good.”
The good daughter.
The good immigrant.
The good partner.
The good, grateful, palatable one.
We shapeshift. We soften edges. We make ourselves smaller to avoid rejection or punishment.
But sometimes, this performance of goodness keeps us from stepping into our full power.
Remember The Ugly Duckling?
A true n’betweener story.
Mocked. Rejected. Labeled “ugly” and “different.” Cast out and misunderstood. Seen as the problem.
If the duckling had spent his life trying to be a good duck, he would never have discovered he was a swan.
He had to risk being wrong.
He had to risk not belonging.
He had to risk being the villain in someone else’s story.
To move toward what you want, you may have to stop being seen as “good.”
Maybe you’ve been so afraid of being “bad” that you’ve stayed frozen.
So afraid of messing up that you haven’t started the thing.
So afraid of being judged that you’ve swallowed your truth.
So when the villain shows up—whether as a person, a system, a moment in history, or your own inner voice—pause.
Ask yourself:
What is this asking of me? What do you I need to listen to?
What part of myself have I been avoiding?
What strength is being called forward?
Villains are part of every story.
They create the tension that makes transformation possible.
So the real question isn’t whether this chapter is hard.
It’s this:
How will you choose to meet this moment?
Taking deep breaths with you.
With love and courage,
Nora