Dear Resentment

Old foe, we meet again. You would think I’d be accustomed to your ugliness by now, given our countless encounters. The sneaky way you appear, uninvited, taking up space where you aren’t welcome. Your subtle yet precise way of sullying everything you touch with bitterness. No matter how many times you show up, I’m still surprised - blindsided almost - wondering at what point I left room for you to bloom again. Will I ever be free of you?

It’s painfully ironic to me how potent you are, overshadowing the emotions I intentionally cultivate. I’m not trying to nurture you yet here you are, stronger than ever, mocking my efforts. I’m writing this letter hoping we can come to some sort of agreement. The thing is, I don’t have the capacity for you anymore. Previously, there was a bitter-sweetness to your presence. I felt righteous somehow - noble, even - as if you indicated some unspoken virtue, a testament to my sacrifices. The more present I become, the more I recognize that you are not a badge of honor, but rather a consequence of my self-neglect. To be quite frank, I despise you.

I hate the way you taint my spirit with bitterness, harden my heart with cynicism and strain my connections with suspicion. I hate how you leave me ruminating about every interaction, magnifying the subtle ways humans can be disappointing. I’m exhausted by you. It must be frustrating for you too, constantly having to visit me, navigate my corners, and do the same thing repeatedly. You’re clearly here to teach me something that I can’t seem to grasp.

Becoming a more present human has been a double-edged sword: it’s brought your sting into sharp focus, and it has clarified my core values - curiosity, compassion, integrity and alignment. My values have been helpful in facing you this time round. I’m curious about the circumstances that trigger you - what am I doing, who am I with, how am I feeling? Paying attention to this has revealed that you are linked to the roles that I play, and labels that I cling to.

These roles and labels were initially thrust upon me by circumstance. I willingly took them on and they served me and others well. But time has rendered them obsolete, burdens I now carry out of habit and fear. This is why you show up, Resentment - a signal that I’ve reached my limit, that I am ready to shed old skins and step into something new. I wish I could recognize my limits without you, Resentment. But perhaps your unwelcome presence is what finally compels me to be more sensitive to my needs.

I long to let go of my outdated identities, but I’m scared. I dread the imagined fallout, the disruption to my carefully constructed world. Sometimes, I fantasize about disappearing and starting over somewhere new where nobody knows me or my past. A clean slate. A fresh start. But escapism wouldn’t be consistent with my other values, would it? Curiosity, compassion, integrity and alignment. These demand a different approach.

I am curious about who I might become if I rid myself of these roles and labels. What would my life look like? How would my relationships evolve? I have compassion for and embrace all the versions of me that held on to these roles for survival, that felt worthless without them. And I extend grace and compassion to the people who, for a time, needed me to take on these parts, unaware of the cost.

I believe in being honest about my need to shed these roles and labels, and I choose to do so in the light - not through escape or denial. Shame has no place here. I want to step away from who I have been boldly, and deal with any fallout head on. I’m not sure of the how, AND I trust that the only way out is through. So this is the first step on my journey through, facing you, Resentment, and thanking you.

Thank you for making me aware of the tendencies that I need to release. For reminding me that letting go requires intentionality - a conscious unfurling that is neither quick nor easy. For reminding me that holding on to outdated identities serves no one, least of all myself. For threatening my well-being so much that I am inclined to shift towards a truer version of myself.

Please be gentle with me, Resentment. I hear you loud and clear, and I’m working on it. May this be our last encounter.

Reluctantly yours,

Zana