Last week as I was hyping myself up to start writing again (earnestly, honestly, and regularly) I had an idea for how I wanted to structure the journey.
"I think I'm going to write about my resentments," I announced to an uninterested coworker. "One post for each resentment."
"Do you have a lot of those?" He asked.
Men, church, middle school, doctors, law enforcement, capitalism, past employers, old friends, summer camp, perfect people, abuse, societal expectations...
As I considered how many places, people, or situations I resented I felt a pang of insecurity. And then a flood of debilitating "monkey mind" thoughts.
No one wants to hear you whine, Sarah, gosh.
Why are you so negative?
Are you really so self-absorbed that you have to share every ounce of suffering you've been poured in life?
No. One. Cares.
I laid in bed later that night contemplating why I felt such a strong urge to dive into my resentments. Does this make me a negative, tormented person? Shouldn't I just move on and write about happier things?
I resolved to try.
This morning, I opened my journal. "Things I Like," I scrawled across the top of the page.
"Flowers. French Braids. Coffee. Reading. Music. Children. Languages. Holding hands. Laughing."
Fine, a list is all well and good, but we are here to WRITE, to speak, and for me, that means to discover the truth about things (the truth about what things are to me, that is). And that requires going deeper. Pulling out the 'if's, 'and's, 'but's, and 'why's.
I started to write, determined to stay chipper and positive. But as the words flowed, I found myself struggling to be authentic. I was attempting to edit out the resentment. And with that, I lost the depth of my voice. I was acting, not speaking.
I could dive into any of the "Things I Like" things listed above and somehow, ultimately, I would end up back at one of my dreaded resentments.
And then it occurred to me.
The things that bring me joy are not wholly positive things. My resentments are not wholly negative things. I am attempting to dichotomize my life into good and bad.
That, my dear readers, is not how life works.
Perhaps my resentments are not merely negative vibes I want to spew out into an already dark world. Maybe they are the entry point to dive deeper into the things I love.
I hate some things. But I will say, most of the things I hate are closely connected to things I love. Isn't that how it works? We hate things because they threaten the things we love. We love things because they help steady us against the things we hate. It is all connected.
It is all connected.
My resentments are not things to absolve, to erase. They are the painful, unpleasant, uncomfortable aspects of all the good things in life. They are the trigger point for change. They are the road to better understanding myself, others, and everything else. As I give them a voice, they teach me. And like grief, jealousy, despair, and fear, resentment does not have to be permanent.
It can be a teacher. It can change me, and I can change it.
I can allow the things I resent to exist, and I can allow grace and forgiveness to stand there beside me as I face them.
I resent some things that have happened to me. Only because they threaten the beautiful things in life that make it worth living for me. Betrayal, violence, heartbreak, grief, disappointment- these are all the dark sides to the joyful aspects of being human.
And for me, since I feel these "dark sides" so very, very deeply - I think that they provide an incredible entry point into writing, into processing, into changing, and into loving, even.
So I will be writing about my resentments.
And it won't be all bad.
It will ultimately be just another way that I honor the things I love. It is an undeniable, important aspect of "wholeness" which is ultimately what I strive for when I write.
I am not scared of the things I resent. (Well... maybe a little.)
I am only scared of the things I love being destroyed. Of losing the good to the bad. And once I accept the fact that no matter how great my resentments, they can't destroy me or the things I love, and that the good things will continue to exist despite the bad things, well... then I guess we can just chat about it and it's really not the end of the world, huh?
"You are equal parts bitter and sweet," a lover once said to me in a letter. After he broke my heart that phrase echoed in my mind.
So are you, I thought. So are most things.
No comments:
Post a Comment