“Power-Under”

We talk a lot about bullies, tyrants, and narcissists—those who wield "Power-Over" others with threats, manipulation, and control. We can list their tactics: gaslighting, intimidation, love-bombing, stonewalling. But we miss the other half of the story, the silent partner in this toxic dance.

This is the story of the "Power-Under" position. It's not about weakness. It's about the brilliant, heartbreaking, and ultimately self-caging survival script a person learns when "Power-Over" is the only language spoken in their world.

If "Power-Over" is the fist, "Power-Under" is the flinch. It's not a choice; it's a deeply wired neurological and psychological adaptation. It's the set of behaviors we adopt, not because we want to, but because we learned—often as children—that our safety, our worth, and our very right to belong depended on making ourselves small, useful, and quiet.

This is the story of that flinch, the map of that invisible prison, and the first steps toward walking out of its gates.

The Core Belief: The Rulebook of Survival

Everyone living from a "Power-Under" script operates from a core, often unconscious, belief:

"My safety, worth, and belonging depend on me making myself smaller than you. My needs, my feelings, and my reality are secondary—or even dangerous—to express.”

This isn't a philosophy. It's a law of physics in their relational universe, written by repeated experiences of "Power-Over" tactics. From this rule, a whole manual of survival behaviors is written. Let's walk through that manual, not as a critique, but as a compassionate inventory. Seeing these behaviors clearly is the first step in realizing: I was taught this. I don't have to live here forever.

The Survival Scripts: How "Power-Under" Shows Up

1. The Pre-emptive "Yes": Pre-emptive Obedience
(A survival response to: Coercive Control, Threats, "Or Else" Statements)

You don't wait to be told "no." You say it to yourself first. A request isn't a question; it's a command you simply hear earlier than everyone else.

• What it looks like: You abandon your own plans, desires, and boundaries before anyone has to challenge them. You volunteer for the extra work you dread. You agree to social plans that drain you. Your own "no" feels like a terrifying act of rebellion, so you pre-emptively surrender.

• What it feels like in the body: A sunken chest, as if physically protecting a heart that believes it doesn't deserve to take up space. A hollow, sinking feeling in the gut—the body's center of personal power and "no." A voice that stays soft, high, and appeasing, never dropping into the resonant depth of true conviction.

2. The Inner Prosecutor: Internalized Gaslighting
(A survival response to: Gaslighting, Distortion of Reality, Dismissing Feelings)

The ultimate victory of "Power-Over" is when it doesn't need to be present anymore. You hire its voice to live in your own head, rent-free.

• What it looks like: You are your own worst abuser. After any interaction, you replay the tape: "Did that really happen that way? Maybe I'm too sensitive. I probably misunderstood. I must have deserved it." You dismiss your anger as "irrational," your sadness as "self-pity." You attribute malice to your own intentions while giving others the benefit of the doubt. This is self-gaslighting—a relentless inner prosecution where you are always the guilty party.

• What it feels like in the body: Mental fogginess, dizziness, a disorienting feeling of being untethered from your own experience. A headache from the constant cognitive dissonance. The body feels like a crime scene you're constantly trying to clean up and explain away.

3. The Human Shield: The Fawn Response
(A survival response to: Weaponized Morality, Guilt-Tripping, Unilateral Decisions)

When fight, flight, or freeze are too dangerous, there is a fourth "F": Fawn. You survive by becoming indispensable, by merging with the needs and moods of the powerful person.

• What it looks like: You become a master reader of rooms, a hyper-vigilant servant. Your identity becomes "the helper," "the fixer," "the peacekeeper." You believe, at your core, that your worth is contingent on your utility. You cannot rest, because rest isn't "productive" for someone else. You absorb their emotional storms and apologize for the weather.

• What it feels like in the body: A constant, low-grade buzzing anxiety in the chest and solar plexus—the engine of hyper-vigilance always idling. A tight, performed smile that doesn't reach the eyes. A profound exhaustion that feels like a moral failing.

4. The Silenced Song: Suppression of Voice
(A survival response to: Condescension, Dogmatic Gatekeeping, Intellectual Presumption)

You learn that your thoughts are not contributions; they are potential targets. Your creativity is not an expression; it's a vulnerability.

• What it looks like: You withhold your opinions, insights, and ideas. You preface statements with "This might be stupid, but..." or you simply never voice them. You defer to others as the "experts" on your own life. You kill your fledgling ideas before they can be criticized, becoming the executioner of your own potential

• What it feels like in the body: Chronic tightness in the throat and jaw—a physical gate holding back unspoken words. A collapsed diaphragm, leading to shallow breath—the body literally can't support full self-expression. A feeling of constriction, like wearing a too-tight collar.

5. The Bottomless Cup: Emotional Scapegoating of the Self
(A survival response to: Emotional Scapegoating, Blaming, "Trash Can" Dynamics)

You become the designated emotional landfill for any system you're in—your family, your workplace, your friendship group.

• What it looks like: You automatically assume fault for any conflict or negative emotion. If someone is upset, your first instinct is to search your own behavior for the cause. You absorb the stress, dysfunction, and bad moods of others and carry them as your own personal guilt. You believe you can, and should, "fix" the emotional climate for everyone.

• What it feels like in the body: A heavy, literal weight on the shoulders and chest. Recurrent stomach aches or gut issues—the body trying to process toxicity it wasn't meant to hold. A feeling of being dirty or contaminated by emotions that aren't yours

6. The Walled Garden: Self-Isolation
(A survival response to: Isolation, Public Shaming, Triangulation)

Connection has led to pain. Therefore, connection is pain. The solution is to pre-emptively cut the wires.

• What it looks like: You withdraw from friends, avoid deepening new connections, and wear "I'm fine" as full-body armor. You believe "I can handle this alone" or "I don't want to burden anyone." This isn't chosen solitude; it's protective isolation. It's the logic of a wounded animal: loneliness is safer than the risk of another attack.

• What it feels like in the body: A physical sensation of coldness or numbness. A literal shrinking of your posture—making your body take up less space in the world. A deep, hollow loneliness that, paradoxically, feels like the only safe space left.

The Architecture of Entitlement: Where "Power-Under" Is Learned as Virtue

The "Power-Under" script is rarely learned in a vacuum. It is taught and reinforced within the very structures we depend on for belonging, meaning, and safety. To see it not as a personal flaw, but as a learned adaptation, we must look at the universal frameworks where compliance is framed as a virtue.

From corporate dynasties to multigenerational homes, a common rule exists: seniority equals entitlement to compliance. This is not respect for experience; it is a system where the will of the senior member automatically negates the reality of those "below." A young manager’s idea is dismissed with, "We’ve always done it this way." An adult child’s choice is overridden with, "I know what’s best." Here, the "Power-Under" person lives the survival scripts perfectly: Pre-emptive Obedience (abandoning the idea before it's rejected), Internalized Gaslighting ("Maybe the old way is better"), and Suppression of Voice.

Likewise, in spiritual communities or organizations built around a charismatic leader, followers can adopt the "seeker's shadow." This shadow believes: "My wisdom is outside of me. My salvation lies in my ability to perfectly follow the one who knows." This is the ultimate outsourcing of internal authority. The survival scripts manifest as: The Human Shield (Fawn Response) directed at the institution, The Inner Prosecutor weaponizing dogma ("My doubt is a failure of faith"), and The Bottomless Cup, absorbing the organization's dysfunctions as personal guilt. The sincere quest for growth becomes the very mechanism of self-erasure.

Reclaiming the Messenger: Anger Versus Rage

Within these hierarchies, teachings meant to liberate are often twisted into tools of control. A saying like, "You are the first victim of your anger," when wielded by a "Power-Over" system, becomes a spiritual gag order. It conflates the emotion of anger with the actions of rage.

We must make a critical distinction:

• Anger is the primary, internal sensation. It is the flash of heat, the clenching gut, the surge of "No!" It is the body’s messenger, sent to telegraph: "Your boundary has been crossed. Your dignity is being violated.”

• Rage or vengeance are possible secondary actions driven by unprocessed anger. They are the "Power-Over" mimicry—the attempt to reclaim power by overpowering another.

To condemn the initial, sensory anger is to shoot the messenger. It teaches *Self-Denial Script #1*: "Your deepest instinct about a violation is itself the problem." The path to "Power-Within" requires listening to the messenger. It means feeling that boiling sensation and asking: "What is this anger protecting?" This is how anger becomes the guardian of your dignity.

These frameworks—the family, the spiritual community, the corporation—train us in the 'Power-Under' script in compartmentalized parts of our lives. But to see the full architecture, we must look at the system that encompasses them all, the one that formalizes these dynamics into law and marble: the political state.

The Crucial Insight: It's a Dance, Not a Monologue

"Power-Over" and "Power-Under" are not isolated roles. They are co-created, locked in a feedback loop of suffering.

The Tyrant needs a subject to rule. The Martyr needs a cause to sacrifice for. The Controller needs someone to manage.

One role energizes and reinforces the other. The more someone uses "Power-Over" tactics, the more the "Power-Under" person's survival scripts are triggered. And the more the "Power-Under" person flinches, pre-empts, and fawns, the more it validates the "Power-Over" person's belief that control is necessary.

It's a dance with no winners, only different kinds of exhaustion.

The Path Out: Turning the Dignity Protocol Inward

The escape from the "Power-Under" prison doesn't start with a confrontation with your tyrant. It starts with a revolution inside your own skin. It begins the moment you start treating yourself with the dignity you've been begging others to see.

Dr. Donna Hicks's research outlines elements of Dignity, such as Safety, Independence, and Benefit of the Doubt. For the "Power-Under" person, the most radical act is to apply this protocol to yourself.

• Offer yourself the Benefit of the Doubt. When your inner prosecutor starts its case, interrupt it. "I am acting with good intentions. My feelings are valid data.”

• Grant yourself Independence. Make a small choice, just for you. What do I want for lunch? Do I want to watch this show? It's practice in listening to your own will.

• Provide your own Acknowledgment. Instead of dismissing a feeling, place a hand on your heart and say, "I see that you're feeling really overwhelmed. It makes sense." This is the language of self-rescue.

• Ensure your own Safety. This means psychological safety. It is safe for you to have a boundary. It is safe for you to take up space. Your own judgment is a safe place to land.

This is not about building arrogant, aggressive "power." It's about cultivating internal authority. It's the slow, tender process of moving from a flinch to a foundation.

Practical Sovereignty

The journey is taken in small, daily steps.

• The Micro-No: Practice saying a small, low-stakes "no." "No, I can't take that extra shift." Feel the tremor of fear, and do it anyway. The goal is flexing the atrophied muscle of your own will.

• The Sensation Check-In: Three times a day, pause. Ask: "What do I feel in my body right now?" Not an emotion, just a sensation. Tightness? Warmth? This reconnects you to your primary source of intelligence—your physical self.

• The Narrative Interruption: When you catch yourself in a "Power-Under" script ("I'm such an idiot"), literally say out loud: "Stop. That is a survival script. It is not the truth of who I am." Break the automatic tape.

A Final Word of Compassion

If you see yourself in these "Power-Under" scripts, please meet that recognition with immense kindness. You are not broken, defective, or weak.

You are a survivor. You developed a brilliant, intricate set of skills to navigate a world that felt threatening. Those skills saved you. They got you here.

But now, you are safe enough to ask: Are these survival tools now becoming the walls of my cage?

The work is not to hate the parts of you that learned to flinch, fawn, and fold. The work is to thank them for their service, and then, with gentle firmness, to inform them that the war is over. You are building a peacetime life now. And in this life, your needs matter. Your voice is welcome. Your full, un-shrunken self is not a threat—it is your birthright.

The door of the invisible prison is not locked by the old "Power-Over" keyholder. It is locked from the inside, by the belief that you must stay small to be safe.

You hold the key. It begins with the whisper, then the voice, then the unshakable knowing: I am allowed to take up space.

But claiming this birthright fully requires one final look outward—not at the tyrants in our lives, but at the Temple of Power we are all taught to worship. What good is learning to stand tall in a room designed to make you kneel?

Navigating the Middle Passage: Self-Inquiry for "Power-With"

Emerging from the "Power-Under" script is a monumental act of courage. But the landscape you are entering is unfamiliar. There is a dangerous, well-trodden shortcut: swinging directly from "Power-Under" into the "Power-Over" position you once feared.

This is not transformation; it is role reversal. The flinch becomes the fist. The silenced voice becomes a weapon. The anger you finally allowed yourself to feel can harden into blame and self-righteous rage. You become the new tyrant in your own story, justifying your actions because you were once the victim.

Why does this happen? Because both "Power-Over" and "Power-Under" are familiar scripts in our psychological database. They are two sides of the same coin of domination. "Power-With" is a third, radically different paradigm. It is not about dominating or submitting, but about connecting, collaborating, and co-creating from a place of inherent dignity. Because it is so scarce in our experience, we must consciously cultivate it.

The bridge from "Power-Under" to "Power-With" is built not by actions first, but by questions. Before you speak or act from your newfound sense of self, pause and inquire within.

When you feel anger (your messenger), ask yourself:

• Is this feeling pointing me toward a boundary I need to set, or toward a person I need to blame?
• What does my boundary look like? Is my boundary forcing someone else to comply or change?
• Can I express the need behind my anger without making the other person the enemy of my well-being?

Before asserting yourself, ask yourself:

• Am I speaking to be heard and to connect, or to finally win an argument and prove I'm right?
• Am I holding the space for others to be heard and connect? Or am I trying to prove them wrong and make them change?
• Is my goal to control other’s behavior, to express my truth and silence theirs? 
• Is my action building a bridge for understanding, or demanding my scripts followed.

When you feel the old "fawn" impulse to people-please, ask yourself:

• Can I be kind without being compliant? Can I be helpful without abandoning myself?
• What would a response look like that honors both their needs and my own?

When you feel the urge to isolate (The Walled Garden), ask yourself:

• Am I pulling away to protect my peace, or to punish others by withdrawing my presence?
• Is there a way to create a boundary that is a bridge, not a wall?

When you notice yourself assigning blame (The Inner Prosecutor turned outward), ask yourself:

• Am I focusing on who is at fault, or on what is the repair? Can I hold someone accountable without stripping them of their dignity?
• What part of this dynamic, however small, can I take responsibility for changing?

The Core "Power-With" Question:

• In this situation, what would create more connection, understanding, and mutual respect, rather than more distance, fear, and control?

These questions are not about achieving perfection. They are compass points, helping you navigate away from the familiar poles of domination and toward the uncharted territory of true relational power—power that amplifies rather than diminishes, that builds rather than breaks.

This inner practice of inquiry is the essential foundation for the outer work of reimagining our systems. Before we can build a "Power-With" world, we must learn to speak its language within ourselves.

The Temple and the Stage: Re-imagining Power Together

We have explored the invisible prisons we build within ourselves and in our immediate circles. But there is a final, grand structure we must see clearly: The Temple of Power.

Look at the buildings that house our governments. See the marble columns meant to evoke ancient Greece, the vaulted ceilings that force you to look up, the heavy wooden desks that seem like altars. These are not just offices; they are designed as temples. The ritual is the political process; the high priests are the elected officials and bureaucrats; the sacred objects are the titles, the flags, and the lavish furnishings. The entire architecture is a psychological operation broadcasting one message: Those inside are of a higher order. Your role is to be a supplicant.

We, the public, are cast as the congregation. Our job is to worship from afar—to vote in the ritual of elections, to bring our offerings of taxes, and to have faith that the priests will interpret our needs correctly. The system trains us in the ultimate "Power-Under" script: to believe that governance is a mysterious, complex sacrament we cannot possibly understand, best left to the anointed few.

Flipping the Script: From Temple to Service Stage

But what if we stopped being a congregation and reimagined ourselves as an audience in a different kind of theater? Not one where we worship the actors, but one where the actors—our public servants—are there to perform a service for us.

In this theater, the stage is a platform for transparency and work, not for ego. The "show" is the visible, accountable process of solving public problems. The actors are skilled professionals hired for a job: to facilitate the will and meet the needs of the audience. Their performance is judged by how well they repair our roads, educate our children, and care for our vulnerable neighbors. They are not in a hierarchical position above us; they are in a contractual position of service to us.

A Practical Dream: Your Tax Dollars, Your Choice

We can make this new stage real by redesigning its most basic mechanism: how we fund it.

Imagine filing your taxes and being presented with a clear, simple list of the core services that make our society function. You could direct a meaningful portion of your contribution to the areas you believe are most vital:

• Natural Park Services & Environmental Protection
• Road Repair & Public Infrastructure
• Implementation of Social-Emotional Learning & Support Protocols in Schools
• Loans and Grants for Startup Businesses & Local Innovation
• Mental Health Services for the Disadvantaged
• Systematic Services for the Unhoused: Pathways to Housing and Contribution

This is not about defunding government; it's about refunding democracy. It forces the Temple to become a transparent workshop. If people consistently choose mental health services over new bureaucratic buildings, the system must adapt. It transforms us from passive worshippers into active commissioners of our own future.

The First Step Out is a New Question

The journey from the "Power-Under" position doesn't end with personal healing. It culminates in a collective reimagining.

We must ask not just, "How do I survive this system?" but "What system would we build if dignity, collaboration, and tangible service were the foundation?"