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April 2007

Resentment truly is the “number-one offender.” I was enlightened to this fact only one month ago. I had a resentment of 24 years concerning my sister-in-law that, in my 13 years of sobriety, I thought I’d “dealt” with.

I can laugh at myself now, and wonder, How could I think that I was OK with an individual and yet feel a stab of annoyance or anger at the mention of their name? How could I think everything was all right? I also found it strange that most of the resentments that festered have concerned people I care about and love.

The resentment with my sister-in-law was a “sticking point” in my growth, even though I denied it. Most of it stemmed from her relationship with my mother and my youngest sister—stormy, hurtful relationships within our family dynamics easily brought out the negative aspects of my personality. My husband remarked that my resentment was actually with myself, for I had done nothing to try to bring peace between my warring family members. He told me that there was nothing I could do to change what they said and did, that I could only change myself. His words opened up something in my heart.

Ten months ago, my mother’s death triggered something in me. Before she died, she forgave her daughter-in-law. I was happy for the two of them, and in the weeks following her death, I came across some of her writing. God sent me a message on that day, written in my mother’s shaky script. I cried when I read it. She wrote, “Forgiveness is a decision—forgive with your heart, not just with words.” I realized how empty my amends to my sister-in-law had been. I never forgave her with my heart, only with empty words.

One day, my resentment reached its boiling point. A confrontation between us occurred. Although I kept my tongue civil and, according to my husband, behaved admirably well, my sister-in-law said and did some hurtful things to my younger sister and me. I stewed and brewed and a major rift began to form in our family. Someone had to take the first step and stop it.

For 13 days, I anguished and struggled. I prayed. I lost 10 pounds and lots of sleep. On the evening of the 13th day of the “cold war,” as I was preparing supper, my mind once again strayed to thoughts of my sister-in-law. In my mind, I composed a mental list consisting of two columns. One column listed all the nice things she had done for me over the years; the second column was the list of nice things I had done for her. Surprise! Column one was much longer than column two. I felt suddenly very ashamed. I began thinking about all the qualities in her that I admired—there were many. Another realization dawned on me: I was envious of those qualities. I felt extremely foolish. I thought very hard about how I would feel if I were in her shoes and had to deal with me all these years. I felt the pain she must have felt.

Mentally, I began composing a letter to her. I covered all the good things she had put in my life, and, within an instant of starting it, the resentment vanished. I felt it leave me. I was so grateful; I cried and thanked God.

That night, I pondered the best way to make amends. I needn’t have bothered, because God planned it for me. The very next day, she was put in my path. My husband and I were at my mom’s house taking some of our things from the garage, when my sister-in-law showed up with her father. Coincidence? I don’t believe that at all. She walked to our truck and handed a box of old family photographs to my husband. She looked older and more tired since I’d last seen her. As she turned to walk away, I called her by name and said, “I’m so sorry I hurt you.” I’ll never forget what ensued. Her face crumpled like a dried leaf and she turned away in tears. I jumped out of the truck and hugged her and told her that I loved her, that she was a good person, and mostly that I was sorry I was such a terrible sister-in-law. What a sight for the neighbors—two menopausal women standing in the falling snow, hugging and crying, then laughing and talking.

Now, when I think of my sister-in-law or hear her name mentioned, I get a good feeling—love instead of anger or jealousy. Our personalities may be like oil and water; they do not mix well. But now I see the symbiotic relationship of the oil and the water. The oil needs the water to support it, just as the water needs the oil to demonstrate its ability to hold something on its surface.

So, while resentment is the number-one offender, it has also been my best teacher. I have learned painfully (the way I always seem to learn) that forgiving with words is not enough for my peace of mind. I must forgive entirely, with my heart and with my soul, not just with my mind.

The 13th year of my sobriety was the most emotionally wrenching year of my recovery. During this year, I watched my mother die and now I’m watching a dear friend die of the same disease. In addition, my uncle had a paralyzing stroke, and I went blind in my left eye.

I asked God, “Why is all this awful stuff happening?” In the ensuing silence, the realization came to me: Only now, at this point in my life, can I accept it all and learn. A year ago, perhaps, I wouldn’t have made it through. I realized how much good there is in people, including myself.

My love and gratitude runs too deep to be expressed in words. So, I will end with one of my favorite quotes from one of my meditation books. Most apropos, the author is Anonymous: “I came into AA to save my ass and found that it was attached to my soul.”

Lorraine P.

Schreiber, Ontario