Recently, an incident occurred in a therapy group I attend that left me feeling resentful toward one of the group members. He had called me a “dry drunk.” I needed to work my program in order to address my resentment.

This man’s words (and his tone) had hurt me—even though it may not have been his intention to hurt me. My hurt turned to anger, and anger makes me feel unsafe. I needed the group to be a safe place for me to share—but after he spoke to me that way I felt shame and rejection. The feelings were so overwhelming at the time that I wanted to cry, but I was numb. I wanted to run out of the room and never return.

The reality is that his words triggered my past wounds. When I was a young boy in school, my rabbi would make fun of me because I had learning disabilities. Throughout my childhood years I felt worthless. The reaction I felt to that group member’s words was the same reaction that I had as a boy: I wanted to run away. As a child, I would cry for hours, thinking, “These people don’t understand me. I’m different, I have a learning problem.” I didn’t want to admit that I had a problem. And I feel this same way in my therapy group. I don’t want to admit fully that my disease is a problem for me; I want to think that I’m different.

In the end I discussed this with my sponsor, and—after taking a full inventory of this group member’s character defects!—I asked myself what my part was in the situation. What character defects led me to interpret things the way I did? Then, the answers became clear to me:

1. My ego and pride got in the way. I have a hard time being humble. I know how to act humble sometimes, but being truly humble is tough for me.
2. I want to be able to get away with “a little” lust, to have the attitude that it won’t affect me, that I can handle it. In short, I’m in denial.
3. I only feel valued or not valued based on others’ views of me. So if someone else doesn’t approve of my recovery, then my recovery has no value.
4. I have the idea that “I’m special,” and if others don’t agree, then I’m not “special” anymore.
5. I want to believe that I’m different, that I have a different rule book than everybody else.

Today I know that the words this man spoke to me were sent straight from God for me to hear. The writing I did helped me let go of the resentment. At the end of the next meeting, he made an effort to apologize for the way he had spoken. That helped me a lot. I also made the effort to go over and give him a hug. That is what I call “tough love”: being loving even when loving is tough. And I learned this only through SA. It’s what our book calls “taking the actions of love”: I took the action, and the feeling followed (SA 164).

In keeping with the spirit of the Eleventh Step Prayer: “Lord, make me a channel of Thy peace…” (12&12 99), I will continue praying for this man every day. I pray that God will bless him with love and compassion for himself and others, and use him as a channel of kindness and goodness for the world.

This resentment opened the way to a new understanding for me.

Love,