Resentment — The Silent Relapse
I once heard a man in recovery say
“We alcoholics can’t afford resentments. They’re a luxury we can’t afford.”
At the time, I didn’t really get it. I thought, well, I have every right to be angry.
But over time, I began to feel what resentment really does inside you. I could justify every one of them, people who hurt me, bosses who humiliated me, situations that didn’t go my way. I had reasons. Good ones. But the truth is, every time I held onto a resentment, I could feel it burning through me like poison.
I used to work for a CEO who made it his daily mission to tear people down. This man could walk into a room and make you feel two inches tall. His words were sharp, cruel, and personal. He’d take your dignity and wear it like a trophy. When I finally left that job, I told myself I was done with him, but I wasn’t. I carried him with me.
I replayed every insult in my head. I took his words as truth. I let them define me. Before long, I wasn’t just angry, I was broken. My self-worth was gone, my confidence shot. The thought of drinking again crept in, whispering that maybe I really was worthless.
That’s when it hit me, this was the silent relapse he was talking about. I hadn’t picked up a drink, but I was drunk on resentment. It was clouding my spirit, warping my truth, and feeding my pain.
It was an ah-ha moment. I finally understood what he meant: resentment is a luxury my alcoholic self can’t afford. It will destroy me from the inside out.
And here’s the thing, I don’t think it’s just alcoholics. I think resentments are poison for all of us. Maybe some people can carry them with class, keep them tucked away without letting them rot. But I can’t.
When I start to feel that bitterness rise up again, I do something that’s become my saving grace. I pause, take a deep breath, and whisper
“Bless them, change me.”
It sounds simple, but it brings the power back to where it belongs, inside me. I can’t control who they are, but I can control how I carry it.
When I forgive, I’m not saying what they did was okay. I’m saying I refuse to keep drinking the poison hoping they’ll die from it. Forgiveness is freedom, not approval. And every time I let go of what’s heavy, I make more room for peace.
Three Tools to Practice When Resentment Creeps In
When resentment starts to rise, pause. Take a deep breath in and out until the heaviness starts to lift.
Say the words: Bless them, change me. It shifts the focus from blame to growth.
Write down what that resentment is costing you, your peace, your sleep, your energy and ask yourself if it’s worth the price.
Reflection Question:
What resentment am I still carrying that’s quietly robbing me of peace?
If you’ve read this far, maybe this is your sign to let something go tonight. Not for them, for you. You deserve to breathe again without the weight of someone else’s words sitting on your chest.
And if this hit something inside you, don’t keep it to yourself. Pass it forward. Someone else might be holding the same heaviness and just needs a little light to remind them they can let go too.
