Dealing with resentments in sobriety is something everyone has to face in recovery. Itโs something that a 12 step program stresses outside of the abstinence of drugs and alcohol. According to the literature, resentments lead to relapse. I have shared in the past how this sentiment is true. My alcoholic personality inside me has gone out of his way to try and conjure up resentments out of thin air in the hopes that I again return to alcohol. However, I’d like to talk about one resentment in particular that I gained in sobriety. Iโd now like to attempt to exorcise it, so to speak.
It was a Friday night share meeting and it was a full house. I was just over 60 days clean and I was in a spectacular mood. Two nights prior, on my actual 60th day of sobriety, I had attended a concert at the Hollywood Bowl. It was my first experience there as a sober person. So on the night of my share, I shared this story.
(note: edited to make myself sound more eloquent than I actually am):
Dealing with Resentment in Sobriety: How it Started
Like Bambi, had Bambi been a struggling alcoholic instead of a fawn, I was just getting used to my new, sober legs. Since I had gotten sober I hadnโt done anything fun, so when I got the chance to see a band Iโd been wanting to see live in concert, I took the initiative and went alone. I had forgotten, however, that the Hollywood Bowl was really just a place that sells alcohol but just happens to have live music.
When I got to my box seat, I was immediately introduced to my box mates; 5 dudes getting hammered. When I sat down I was offered a shot of whiskey. I took a look at the bottle, some artisan rye whiskey with a fancy label. Then I thanked them for their offer but told them, firmly, I didnโt drink anymore. I did, of course, mention how if I had still been drinking that I would have enjoyed that bottle immensely.
When I got to that part in my story, where I got to my seat and saw that it was full of rowdy, drunken men, there was a literal gasp from the room. I assured my compassionate audience that it didnโt bother me to be around so much alcohol. It was true, and aside from it being one of the best concerts I had seen in years, I was most excited to find that I could be around alcohol without being tempted to drink. I was excited to share the fact about my magical night. I was able to be present for the concert and enjoy every moment without needing to take a shot or run to the bathroom every 30 minutes because my body was to capacity with beer and whiskey.
The Insult
About 12 shares later, this โspiritualโ looking fellow who I had seen once at another meeting, brought up my share. He told the group that he and his wife, a pretty, younger woman whose hand he had in a vice, were in town to take their daughter to a concert. He mentioned how he and his wife, both recovering and โgratefulโ alcoholics, had instilled into their daughter the dangers of being offered alcohol when she is out in public. After waxing poetic about him being grateful and steadfast in his recovery, he ended his share that he โknows better than to get in that boxโ with a bunch of drunk guys at a concert. The box he was referring to was my box seat at the concert where I did not know better than to step into.
I immediately caught on to the slight. Itโs easy to do when youโre constantly searching for ways to be offended. I wasnโt too upset, just baffled. At least initially. A stared at the guy. I wasnโt being aggressive(or maybe I was), just trying to see if heโd look at me so I could signal to him โwhat the fuck, man?โ. But he never looked at me. The meeting carried on until the end. I listened to each share, but the offense I had taken to the โgratefulโ manโs share kept barging into my mind. I kept brushing it aside, but it always came back. The meeting ended and the man and his kept wife busied themselves talking to someone else in the group. I kept an eye on him but he never once glanced over to me.
How to Turn an Insult into a Resentment
I brought his comment up to a friend in the meeting and she mentioned that she had also caught onto the slight as well. That confirmation was all I needed to turn this small offence into something bigger, and that is exactly what I did.
Over the next few days the offence grew. It took up more space. I had begun to dissect it, take it apart bit by bit, and rebuild it into something worth resenting. I asked myself why he said that. Why did he make it a point to talk directly to me and then end his share with an insult? Since I chose not to confront this guy I instead had this conversation with myself. My answer? Heโs an insecure little man whose wife was out of his league. He heard her gasp at my story and got jealous because I am taller than he is, so to take out his anger he decided to share that he was better than me. Yeah, I literally asked myself that question and THAT was the answer I went with.
I dissected the insult, but until now, have not dissected my own part to play in this resentment. Iโve always wanted everyone to like me. No, Iโve needed everyone to like me. I spent my entire life focusing on who didnโt like me instead of all the people who do. So when the grateful man took that little dig at my expense, I decided to take it personally. It wasnโt, of course. Few things rarely are. But I decided he said this to get others to not like me.
Dealing With Resentments in Sobriety When You Resent Yourself
Since I am consumed with controlling the narrative of my own identity, I turned to my shadow self to harass my own thoughts. I made the grateful man into an offensive, little, insecure troll. I did this because he is shorter than I am, offended me, and since I am insecure, projected that onto him. He became the personification of my inner abuser; the part of me that demands I be perfect โ to never be satisfied.
By the same time the next week, I was fuming. I gave an impassioned speech in the same meeting during my share about the insult. Since I felt he affected the way others thought about me, I did the same to him. After all, how dare he insult me? ME!!! How dare he walk into MY meeting and make a small reference to me that not everyone would catch and certainly not remember! A few shares later a member of the group mentioned that he was sure that the man didnโt mean to offend me. I interrupted HIS share and told him โyes, he did, I know this guy from another group.โ
But I didn’t know this guy at all. I had seen him once before at another meeting where his share rubbed me the wrong way. I never talked to him but certainly had an opinion on him based upon a three minute monologue he gave that I didnโt like. But I โknewโ this guy, I said. The guy that I was really referring to, whom I โknewโ, was me. He was the one who took a forgettable moment and turned it into a resentment. I did that.
Resentments Are About Control
And I feel silly about that moment. I am embarrassed that I let myself get so worked up over nothing and then shared it with a room full of people I respect. I resent that too. There is a deep resentment for that moment of human emotion. This was a king baby moment where that scared little tyrant inside of me exploded in anger, shaking his baby arms at the world as his crown sat sideways on top of his bald head. Because this is all about me, really. I may never see the grateful man again and most likely never will. He wasnโt my problem, I wasโฆ am.
This is what dealing with resentments in sobriety is all about. I cannot control what happened because it already happened, I can only look back on it. I can choose to be mad at myself or I can let it go. If I believe it matters what other people think about me then I wonโt let it go. Iโll try to control it until it becomes my ruin. Thatโs the insanity of resentments and I know all about insanity. However, I can accept it for what it is; a moment of frustration as I was struggling through early sobriety. I guess I am still a little embarrassed about it, but thatโs life, right? There will be embarrassments and there will be insults. Itโs not the end of the world. If I have the ability to let it go then what does it matter? Still wrestling with that.
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