I recently watched the movie Venom and couldn’t help but notice the fascinating psychological dynamic at play—Venom embodies Eddie’s selfish inner self—in Freud’s words, his id. On the surface, it’s a story about a guy being consumed by an alien symbiote. But beneath the humor and the high-octane action lies a deeper exploration of human nature. Venom isn’t just an alien parasite; he’s a metaphor for the inner selfishness inside us—the raw, untamed instincts that often feel unwelcome but are undeniably part of who we are.
Wrestling with Our Inner Chaos
Venom, as a character, is Eddie’s selfish inner self personified. The symbiote craves destruction, indulgence, and dominance. It thrives on primal urges, offering Eddie strength and power but at a cost: he must wrestle with a voice in his head that amplifies his worst instincts. In a way, Venom is the voice we all hear sometimes—the one that tells us to put ourselves first, to yell, or to give in to temptation.
We like to think of ourselves as calm, thoughtful, and rational, but secretly we know there’s a selfish primal animal lying under the surface. Beneath the polished exterior is a side of us that craves, pushes, and demands, without much regard for consequence. Venom brings this part to life, and Eddie struggles to control him, just as we all wrestle with the parts of ourselves that seem to act on their own.
Venom is the original, primordial parts of our minds. It’s wired for survival, not happiness. For most of human history, this wiring kept us alive—prioritizing immediate needs like food, safety, and social acceptance over long-term well-being. But today, these same instincts can feel overwhelming and irrational, leaving us grappling with urges that seem out of place. Yet these impulses don’t have to define us. They’re simply part of the human experience, and the goal isn’t to eliminate them but to work with them.
At first, Eddie and Venom are at odds, constantly fighting for control. Venom’s unrelenting demands clash with Eddie’s attempts to live a normal life, and neither seems to be winning. Over time, though, Eddie learns that Venom isn’t just a destructive force. The symbiote offers Eddie strength, confidence, and protection—qualities he needs but struggles to wield on his own. Eddie’s journey isn’t about rejecting this voice outright. Instead, he learns to live with it, to negotiate with it, and ultimately, to find a kind of partnership.
A New Kind of Friendship
Eddie learns to befriend Venom and leverage him when he needs him. He realizes that while Venom comes on strong, he’s a valuable friend. Venom’s strength and confidence help Eddie face challenges he couldn’t handle alone, while Eddie’s humanity grounds Venom, keeping his chaos in check.
It’s not easy, and it takes lots of practice. Just as Eddie learns to pause and negotiate with Venom instead of fighting him, we can observe our inner world without getting swept up in it. This starts with acknowledging those inner voices, recognizing them not as enemies but as parts of ourselves that need attention.
When we show our impulses love and caring, we begin to understand what they’re trying to communicate. Often, these feelings are rooted in unmet needs—security, rest, or reassurance. Instead of suppressing them, we can validate their presence: It’s okay that you feel this way. With practice, we can learn to guide these impulses gently, setting boundaries while offering the same compassion we might show a friend or a child.
When we pause, breathe, and reflect, we can choose responses that align with our values instead of reacting impulsively. Over time, the parts of ourselves that feel chaotic can become sources of resilience and creativity.
How I Relate to My Own Inner Venom
When I’m starting to feel my own inner Venom—whether it’s frustration, impatience, or an unhelpful craving—I try to imagine him showing up. Instead of pushing him away or bracing for a fight, I make a friendly gesture toward him. He’s not evil or even a bad guy; he’s just impulsive, raw energy, eager to help but not always sure how.
I’ve learned that showing love and caring for Venom is important because it transforms how I relate to my impulses. When I approach them with compassion instead of judgment, I can respond to my feelings thoughtfully rather than reactively. I learn to show it love and caring by pausing, acknowledging the feeling, and asking what it really needs. I’ve found that personifying it as Venom makes this much easier than trying to wrestle with an abstract force inside my head. Giving it a name and a face helps me create a healthier, more constructive dialogue with it.
In those moments, I remind myself that Venom isn’t something to fear or hate. He’s part of me, and if I can pause and listen, I might learn what he’s really asking for. Sometimes it’s rest, or reassurance, or simply acknowledgment. I’ve learned not to treat him as an enemy but as something that’s immature, emotional, and just needs some love and caring.
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