Addressing Resentments: Detachment and Self-as-Context
We’ve all been there—replaying a moment in our heads, fuming over what someone said or did, wishing we could change the past. Resentment has a way of hijacking our minds, pulling us into loops of anger, injustice, and self-righteousness. And yet, no matter how justified our resentment feels, it rarely does us any favors.
So why is it so hard to let go?
Because when we’re stuck in resentment, we’re fused with our thoughts. We believe them completely. We don’t just think about what happened—we relive it. The tension, the anger, the hurt—it all floods back like it’s happening right now. In this way, resentment has a way of pulling us under, dragging us back into old wounds and making us relive the same pain over and over again. It convinces us that we’re right, that we’re justified in holding on, that we have to keep replaying the scene because it was unfair, because we were wronged, because we can’t just let people get away with things. It makes sense why we do it—it feels like a way to protect ourselves, to make sense of something that hurt. But in recovery, we learn a hard truth: holding onto resentment doesn’t just hurt the person we resent—it keeps us stuck. And if we’re not careful, it can take us right back to a drink.
In active addiction, any feeling that took us out of comfort was a reason to reach for something. Anger, sadness, anxiety, fear, boredom—it all led to the same place. We drank because we didn’t want to feel what we were feeling. And resentment? It’s one of the most dangerous emotions for an alcoholic. It’s not just discomfort; it’s a full-bodied experience of reliving pain, of being consumed by it. It pulls us out of the present moment and into a past that we can’t change. And when we’re trapped there, disconnected from what’s happening right now, it’s only a matter of time before the old patterns start whispering again: You know what would fix this? Just one drink.
What ACT teaches—what recovery teaches—is that we don’t have to be owned by our thoughts and emotions. We don’t have to believe everything our mind tells us. Resentment feels so real when it flares up, but it’s just another story, another thought pattern running its script. And the truth is, we don’t have to engage with it. We can step back, detach from it, and see it for what it is: an echo of something that’s already over.
Detachment doesn’t mean denial. It doesn’t mean pretending something didn’t happen or saying it was okay. It means recognizing that the memory of what happened is not happening now. It means seeing resentment as a thought, not a fact. It means stepping outside of the version of ourselves that is fused with this pain and seeing the bigger picture. In ACT, this is called self-as-context—the ability to recognize that we are not just the person who was hurt; we are the person observing that hurt. We are the one experiencing these thoughts and emotions, but we are more than them.
And that shift changes everything. Because once we stop seeing ourselves as the victim of this thing that happened, and instead as a person who experienced something painful and is now here, in this moment, with a choice, the grip loosens. The resentment stops owning us. And we can finally—finally—breathe again.
Part of that process is looking at the whole picture, including the part we played. Not because we’re trying to take all the blame, but because it gives us a path forward. When we get honest about our role—if we had one—it moves us from helplessness to responsibility. And when we do that, when we see ourselves as just one part of a larger story rather than the center of it, something opens up. We find empathy—not just for ourselves, but sometimes, unbelievably, for the person we resented.
It takes time. It takes practice. But eventually, we realize that the thing we swore we’d never let go of? It’s already fading. The memory still exists, sure. But it doesn’t burn like it used to. It doesn’t pull us out of our own lives. It doesn’t make us want to reach for something to numb it. Because it’s just a story now—something that happened once, but is no longer happening.
And in that space, where resentment no longer dictates our experience, we find something better. Peace. Freedom. The ability to move through life with a little more ease, a little more lightness.
And most importantly, we stay sober.
Because that’s the only way we get to see what life can actually be.
