Last year my header contained a quote attributed to Malachy McCourt: Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other guy to die.
It’s a great quote, great sentiment, and I shared a little of my experience with real, spirit-shredding resentment, too.
I have actually been struggling with resentment, recently, for the first time in my life, and I can attest to the poison-power of it.
The mild aggravation and eye-rolling impatience I have for Mrs. Clinton are nothing like the feelings and fantasies that are attached to the object of my resentment. Not even close. I do not lie awake at night simmering about her. I do not have fantasies of meeting Mrs. Clinton and landing her a facer. I have never considered calling a rather intimidating (with good reason) relation and asking him to go knock on her door and introduce himself and his little friend.
…
Over the course of the last few months, waiting for some resolution of this situation, I have found myself doing all of those things I described above. I’ve been losing sleep, grinding my teeth, imagining violence – those face planters, that call to my distant cousin – and simply simmering and festering and yes, poisoning myself as I seethed. And the poison was affecting my physical body; at one point, I got shingles.
This year we had a very happy (and fair and just) resolution to this issue; my family-member’s name and reputation was restored -as much as any name and reputation may be restored once a lie has been spread.
And that is the problem, of course; once a reputation has been besmirched with a lie, there will always be that residual stink, like something carried in on a shoe, that dulls all the rich colors and makes us flinch with remembered pain. There will always be the person here or there who will stick to believing the lie, because they like the lie, or because they like scandal. Or, simply, because they are people with a deficiency within themselves, who fill their aching void with malevolence and spite.
I had an encounter today with onesuch. A fellow who preferred the lie, and wanted to continue to serve it, over the truth. And that encounter ignited such a fury within me that I realized it is sometimes a very good thing that I do not have handy weapons on my person.
It is a very good thing that I am not a male, standing 6′4″ and with some muscle behind me, or I have no doubt, this person would be in an emergency room, right now, and I would be under arrest.
I felt teeth-baring fury; if I were a dog, this bastard would no longer have an arm.
To paraphrase Edward G. Robinson: How do you like yer gentle anchoress, now, eh?
I always told you I am no saint.
But…I had also told you (and I had truly thought) that I had managed forgiveness, and put away resentment.
Maybe forgiveness doesn’t always ‘take’ the first time. Maybe once we have given in to the poison and power of resentment, allowed it to seep into our sinews and viscera, forgiveness has to be administered like a therapeutic treatment “reapply as needed.”
Today, I need to find a way to purge some more of that poison, because it is -I now realize- still inside me, and still capable of wrecking havoc. It is like a little pilot-light of rage, combustible only with certain gas-leaks, but then baby go boom; don’t mess with my family.
I can do something outwardly, like consider a civil suit charging slander. Could probably win that, but then my little pilot-light would be kept alive for the years and years such a suit would take, and I don’t have the energy for that. I want it tamped out, and the water of life mixed in with the ashes, so that no more fires may burn.
So, inward I go. This thing won’t be cast out without prayer and fasting. Lots of it.
Whoever said Christianity is for wimps and that belief is a “crutch” has no flipping idea what they’re talking about. The life of faith, lived seriously, takes courage because it requires this painful, necessary introspection. And it is meant to achieve not a victory…but a surrender.
I love the life of faith. I love baseball. Sometimes, I hate them both because of how much I love them.
Yes, that’s a joke. Sort of.
We are engaged in great battles in the larger world of politics and society. We are engaged in the smaller battles with acquaintances, family and (sometimes) friends. But the most harrowing battles we must fight, and fight again, and again, are the ones we fight within ourselves.
If you are inclined to prayer, a few whispered up for me and my family -and especially for my roiling spirit, just now- would be much appreciated. Thanks.
May 1st, 2009 | 1:50 pm | #1
Ahh…now things are clearer…I offered up a rosary for your intentions this morning, not knowing what they were…
May 1st, 2009 | 1:53 pm | #2
Sorry Anchoress,
Jesus said 70 x 7. That meant, infinitely, over and over and over and over, etc.
Sometimes you have to put the Blood of Christ over the family name, verbally in prayer.
Then you need to put the Blood of Christ on the hatred you feel, whatever you call it. Bathe that connection between you and the jerk with the Blood of Christ. It breaks the evil that binds.
Then, you need to do some prayers in vast repetition. Why? Because, God doesn’t need to hear them, but your inflamed spirit does.
By the Blood of Christ, I fully and freely forgive you (name), I loose you and let you go. You fully and freely forgive me, you loose me and let me go. All things are cleared up between us now and forever.
Sorry, A, but, you will have to say that one dozens and dozens of times. What happens is, you start to notice the big everlastinggobstopper of hate/resentment/woe in your heart/gut/throat starts to melt. Then, you think you are done. You waltz off into the airbrushed sunset and you get hit with another bout and you start it again. Multiple dozens of times.
Proof? Efficacy? Yes. I’ve been a victim and have forgiven the perps. Need any more proof than that?
Now I feel pity for them. I feel and see them in a new light. Not the light of my concealed “heater” making a quick flash and a loud bang. ;D
Please do this, A. It melts the malice in the other person’s heart and soul in a miraculous way. Its a formula; I know, not glamorous. Please plug it in and pray for perseverance. As the nike ad states: Just do it.
If I met you I’d say, “Just do it for Christ’s sake.” But I’d mean it prayerfully.
We need our Anchoress around a long time. We don’t need her dying of poison.
AF
May 1st, 2009 | 4:31 pm | #3
Oh, Anchoress, do I feel you this afternoon. Someone did something very hurtful to me earlier this week, and I’ve struggled with it (and mostly lost) since. I find myself handing over my anger in prayer every night, and feeling the peace wash over me. But come morning, it comes back. No, it doesn’t just come back:
I pick it back up. Being angry is a bittersweet experience, in the literal sense. It is exhausting, and self destructive. But it feels *good*, too. Homer knew this: he wrote that anger “melts down through men’s hearts like honey”. Aristotle, who called anger “the desire for revenge for a conspicuoous belittling” said that “of course” anger is difficult to let go of, because it is pleasant to think about getting things that we want, i.e., cramming my fist down the throat of someone who desperately deserves it.
So I keep asking God to take it away from me again, and hoping each time it will stick.
[what a good comment, Elizabeth Anne - beautifully written, compassionate and instructive. Thank you. Now go to the latest post and yell at me about torture!
I'm still not fully done thinking about my position. But I've had too much wine to do more, tonight! But this wonderfully written comment reminds me of something else I meant to link to! -admin]
May 1st, 2009 | 4:47 pm | #4
God bless you. I will pray for you, your poison and your family. There is a phrase that I have to use a lot, like daily. Let go and let God. Easy to say…hard for me to do. Some days I have to go to the Blessed Sacrament and place ‘it’ and my tears at His feet.
May 1st, 2009 | 5:21 pm | #5
[...] Maybe forgiveness didn’t ‘take’ the first time [...]
May 1st, 2009 | 6:59 pm | #6
Of course, I had no expectation of having my email answered personally, but this post serves that purpose fairly well. Thanks, Anchoress. And yes, I followed the link to your January 2008 article. I’m praying about Matthew 5:46. The problem is what to do about those who claim to love you but treat you like … well, you know. Prayers!
[Thanks, Mimsy. I really do try to answer all of my emails, but sometimes they come in avalanches and I either lose track of them or just can't keep up! - admin]
May 1st, 2009 | 11:36 pm | #7
My teachers tell me that compassion is the exact opposite of anger: when you are experiencing anger you cannot feel compassion and when you are compassionate you cannot feel anger. The person who is the focus of your anger has suffered terribly in the past, is suffering terribly now, and will suffer terribly in the future, just as you are suffering now and for much the same reasons. A little conscious reflection on their life rather than yours will show this to be true.
So if it were me, and I were Catholic, I would repeatedly pray for their Salvation. When you can do so, and really mean what you are praying, you are likely to find that the anger will have vanished on its own.
[I agree, and this is certainly what Christ taught as well. It is of course, the Way, and I do try to live this way. I probably - by the grace of God - succeed more than I fail, but when I fail, it's an epic fail. And of course, it is an entirely "don't mess with my family" thing, because nothing makes me more ferocious. But yes, now that my head is a little clearer...you know... - admin]
May 2nd, 2009 | 9:40 am | #8
I’m a lot like my late Aunt Polly, and I suspect, you. Auntie Polly could be mad at someone in the family, say her mother (my grandmother). She’d say anything about such member of the family she wanted to say but if someone from outside the family said anything, even if she was angry with the family member, she would become like a mother bear and defend her family to the outside world.
Pick on me and that’s fine, but pick on my husband, children or grandchildren and I’m like a mother bear.
My 11 year old granddaughter skipped a grade and is in advanced Algebra class in 7th grade. This will give her high school credit and she has an A average, but has had to have a tutor because the teacher hasn’t been able to teach the subject. My daughter and son-in-law have had a couple of conferences with her and she included the principal in them. She is so angry with the parents there isn’t a day that goes by without her attacking Ashley. The other day she got her in the hallway and complained her skirt wasn’t school uniform and threatened to keep her after school for it. Ashley pulled out her handbook and showed the appropriate paragraph about her skirt and was threatened to be put in resource all day for being “defiant”.
What the teacher didn’t know was the assistant principal was standing behind her where she couldn’t see him but Ashley could, and he informed the teacher Ashley’s dress code was perfect. He told the teacher to wait there while he wrote out a pass for Ashley’s first class or she would have been marked tardy for it.
When I heard this I went spastic. I wanted to call that teacher and give her what-for, but I realized I have a grandson who is younger and will probably have this sorry teacher too. I also realized it wasn’t the Christian thing to do.
And this teacher sponsors a Christian student’s club! Give me a break! She needs a man. LOL
May 2nd, 2009 | 11:45 am | #9
Pardon my butting in, but it sounds like Ashley had a Guardian Angel already assigned to this issue. No need for more intervention, just prayers…
May 2nd, 2009 | 11:48 am | #10
Oh…and as Clarence said in It’s a Wonderful Life, “Thanks, Joseph!”
May 2nd, 2009 | 2:35 pm | #11
Tfillot (prayers) for the Anchoress, coming up, whatever it’s worth. We get a lot of kapparot (the equivalent of “sacrifices”) from our enemies. They say you can get expiation through suffering, through financial loss, through ill health (may none of these things hit any of us) or we can get them through insults and enemies, which is by far the “easiest” option.
This guy ought to be glad you’re not a 6′4″ weightlifter. considering the above, I guess you should be too.
May 2nd, 2009 | 2:51 pm | #12
Jeanette:
I hope you don’t mind an unsolicited opinion, but your granddaughter’s teacher obviously needs to be dealt with. She is a] incompetent at teaching and b] a bully (who bullies children!) and a liar. As you imply, when you mention your grandson, she’s probably going to do this sort of thing to other kids. I’m not a Christian, but I’m sure that calling her would be the right thing to do – see what she has to say for herself – and then, unless she has an awfully good explanation, do what you can to get her, well, fired.
There can’t be anything right about allowing bad people to continue to abuse authority. This does strike a personal chord with me. Again, sorry if you think I’m out of line.
May 3rd, 2009 | 11:26 am | #13
My dear Anchoress, I can only share my own experience. What it means, if anything, is beyond my control.
After my divorce, I was continuously angry for *6 months*. I found a peer group ministry which hepled me greatly, but the anger never went away fully. Not sure why. Maybe a wound that deep never really heals or maybe I am just too self-centered to let the Holy Spirit heal it. Or maybe some of both or something else. So I have to keep forgiving my ex-wife on a more or less regular basis.
This used to bother me a lot as in why can’t I forgive and be done with the hurt and pain? Maybe this is my own personal “thorn in the flesh” to keep me humble, to keep me realizing my need for the love and mercy of God by showing love and mercy to one who hurt me so much. Or maybe something else.
Time and trust in God are great healers, if you let them do their work. Out of all the hurt and anger I like to think that I am now slower to judge, faster to forgive. Don’t worry too much about the feelings themselves, worry instead that you will let them master you.
HTH
May 3rd, 2009 | 8:03 pm | #14
Iceworm, I know that your comment was directed to A, but I wanted to let you know that it really touched me, particularly this part: “Don’t worry too much about the feelings themselves, worry instead that you will let them master you.”
Thank you so much.
-J
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