All last week resentment, and a feeling of being slighted, was slowly building in me, fed by a daily dose of gossip and innuendo. This building resentment is certainly clearer in hindsight than it was at its inception. Saturday night capped it off, or so I thought. Then Sunday evening, out of nowhere, an even bigger assault on my person and ego struck. The way another's actions were able to derail me was, although not surprising, certainly disappointing.
Parts of my character that do not highlight me at my finest, came bubbling to the surface, not the least of which are pride and petulance. As I absorbed the slight, all other slights and resentments cried out for attention - my husband, whose only crime was being a witness; my daughter, who I felt did not feel appropriate anger on my behalf; my sons, who had forgotten this or neglected that; friends long forgotten who had wounded my pride at some point. It's amazing how much my equilibrium was thrown off by what was, if I were to tell you, a somewhat minor event. The remainder of my evening was spoiled and I went to bed at 7pm, sad and bitter.
I came across a quote once that I really identified with:
But, oh, how sweet is anger. When I'm angry, I'm not in the wrong. Somebody else is in the wrong, and for once I have peace. A delicious peace that gnaws over the wrong like a lion with a ragged bone. It is delicious and compelling enough that it urges me to accumulate other wrongs and hold them greedily close. I love to be wronged; only then, for that brief moment, can I be sure I'm right. It is intoxicating in its sweetness, this brief joy in being right. It is good to be a victim, because victims are sinless.
The quote is from Frederica Mathewes-Green's book Facing East.
Pride goes before a fall. I've often thought that pride is my biggest sin. But perhaps that is pride speaking, believing that I am the one capable of declaring which, of all my many sins, is the biggest?
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