From Courage to Change of Oct 29:
I recently had an argument with someone I care about. He had made, all too publicly, a few remarks to me about my weight, and I was less than pleased. Later, when I told him that my feelings were hurt, he insisted he had done nothing wrong — that what he had said was true, so I shouldn’t take offense.
How often have I justified my own unkindness, or my interfering where I had no business, with that very argument? Too many times, especially during my alcoholic loved one’s drinking days. After all, I claimed, I was right: Alcohol was ruining our lives, and it was my duty to say so — again, and again, and again.
I am learning to let go of my certainty about what other people should do. In Al-Anon I heard someone put it this way: “I can be right or I can be happy.” I don’t have to make anyone over in my image. With help, I can live and let live.
Today’s Reminder
I am not an insensitive person, but at times I have justified insensitive behavior by claiming to be right. I can respect another’s right to make his or her own choices, even when I strongly disagree. My relationships will improve if I can love myself enough to let other people be themselves.
“Lord, when we are wrong, make us willing to change. And when we are right, make us easy to live with.” ~ Peter Marshall
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In an earlier time in recovery, I found myself in a large meeting room, sharing too long and too personally. I sensed it even as I spoke, yet I couldn’t stop seeking the comfort of crowd validation. Then someone interrupted:
“This is not a speaker meeting. There are a lot of other people here who need the opportunity to share.”
His words landed like a public rebuke. Still, knowing he was technically right, I approached him afterward to thank him. I told him I understood. His reply was curt:
“Well, I’d rather be a resentment than have one.”
Ouch. It wasn’t the correction that hurt—it was the dismissal. A better way would have been to engage me with his own experience, to invite genuine conversation rather than to cast me off as a “potential resentment.” Instead, I felt the double sting of public embarrassment and private disregard.
What bleeds in this memory is not just shame; it’s the ancient wound of being dismissed while trying to belong. My “too long and too personal” share was simply a human reaching out in vulnerability. But the interruption wasn’t an act of service—it was an act of containment, a boundary drawn with the blade of ego rather than the balm of truth.
The phrase “I’d rather be a resentment than have one” reeks of spiritual vanity. It masquerades as enlightened detachment but is, in truth, emotional cowardice wrapped in piety—the classic counterfeit of the self-righteous caretaker. It wounds by cloaking cruelty in the banner of wisdom.
And how often have I done the same? How many times have I justified my own unkindness or meddled where I had no business, armed with similar logic? Too many—especially during the years when my loved one’s self-medication consumed us both. I told myself I was right: obsessive thinking and emotional chaos were ruining our lives, and it was my duty to confront it—again and again and again.
In truth, that same impulse—the drive to intervene, to be right—became my weapon of control. I saw my reflection in that man. The rescuer and the rebuker are born of the same delusion: that salvation requires domination. When we say, “I only said it because I care,” what we often mean is, “I cannot bear to witness chaos without asserting my will upon it.”
My ethos demands rebellion against that lie. “Being right” is the opiate of the spiritual middleman—the one who replaces relationship with regulation. True recovery, true stewardship, isn’t about enforcing silence or demanding gratitude for rebuke. It’s about enduring the discomfort of another person’s freedom—the holy risk that they might fail, suffer, or change without my supervision.
I am learning to release my certainty about what others should do. In recovery I once heard someone say, “I can be right, or I can be happy.” I no longer need to make anyone over in my image. With help, I can live and let live.
I am not an insensitive person, yet at times I have justified my insensitivity by claiming to be right. Today I can respect another’s right to make their own choices, even when I disagree. I hope that my relationships will deepen when I love myself enough to let others be themselves.
Daily Reprieve 
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