The mirror stares at her many times a day. It as if it needs to say “yep, you’re still there,” fully aware that object permanence lost its wonderment to the game of Peek-a-Boo. I see who? Who are you? This reflection of herself stares back with unruly hair, eyes of different sizes, new lines of age, need for more beige under those bags she inherited from her dad.
It looks at her, longing for objectivity while mirroring her insecurity as to what it might discover, uncover. Perhaps her appearance is older than she feels. Empirical data may wink at her sense of strength; an impartial judge might laugh at what she considers kindness. A neutral assessor might snicker at her blindness.
Her blind optimism has served her well, as she cuddles in its protective shell. Today, she puts everything aside, no place to hide or hang false laurels or pretended morals. She is going to take Step 4 inventory and see what story unravels in its truth, whose astuteness lay in her honesty, playing Hide-and-Seek with fears and untrusted tears when she felt hurt or threatened and acted, reacted, retracted or responded.
Despondent, she feels paralyzed by the Resentment Inventory, wanting to please an invisible teacher and convince her that she doesn’t have pent up resentment and is really quite content with her life. Hmm, she ponders and wonders if she is telling the truth. This is between she and she– no need for secrecy. . . . . “Okay, I resent the day my husband passed away. I resent that my son has drug addictions.”
“I resent that I am terrified of resentment. “ This raw admission is compelling.
She digs a bit deeper into the depths of self-awareness, a sleuth trying to understand this fright with insight. Why fear resentment? Does it dishonor contentment? Is it bad to revisit something that had not gone well?
Resentment scares her into a sword fight, trying to seduce her mind with its blade replaying negativity in figure eights and pointing its jealous tip at the heart of her values. The sleuth stands boldly with an expression of amusement and curiosity asking: Who are you behind the mask taunting your cold steel with memories of injustice? What is your intent?
Resentment peels off his veneer slowly with a chuckle and a smirk of understanding, asking her to hold out what is in her hands. The sleuth watches her tremble with hesitation as each finger relaxes from fearful fists.
Silence fills the air with awe of the pricelessness resting in each palm. Resentment takes a closer step while replacing his sword in a sheath, Gently; he places her open hands in his with assurance as they embrace a moment of gratitude suspended in a warm womb of love. Looking at Resentment in the eye, she sees the lessons he is teaching about her fears, her goodness, and the values she holds dearly.
The split second of that insight draws her back to the person she is and hopes to be for eternity- simply taking an inventory.