In the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, there’s a story near the end called “Freedom from Bondage.”
A woman tells how she got free from resentment — not by confronting anyone, not by “working through” it — but by praying for the very people who hurt her.
She didn’t want to.
She didn’t mean it.
But she did it anyway.
Every day for two weeks she prayed for their happiness, their health, their prosperity — everything she wanted for herself.
And somewhere along the line, something inside her shifted. The resentment that used to feel permanent started to melt. She realized she was free — not because they changed, but because she did.
That story’s been around for decades because it works.
And not just for alcoholics.
Resentment: The Number One Offender
In recovery language, resentment is called the number one offender.
It’s the thing that eats us alive while we’re busy blaming someone else for holding the fork. You don’t need to be an addict to understand that.
Anybody who’s ever replayed a conversation in their head at 2 a.m. knows what resentment feels like. It’s that loop of “they shouldn’t have” and “I should’ve said…” that never shuts up.
It pretends to protect us. But really, it keeps us trapped.
The Experiment
So here’s the deal.
If there’s someone you can’t stop resenting — pray for them for two weeks.
Every day.
Pray for their health.
Pray for their happiness.
Pray for them to get everything you want for yourself.
You’ll hate it at first.
You’ll roll your eyes.
You’ll probably mutter the words through gritted teeth.
That’s fine. Do it anyway.
Somewhere around day ten, something weird starts happening — the anger loosens. The bitterness starts to lose its power. You stop being the victim of your own story.
You don’t have to mean it to start.
But you’ll mean it by the end.
Why It Works
Because prayer — or whatever word you use for it — pulls your hands off the steering wheel.
It tells the universe, “I’m done trying to make them pay. I just want to be free.”
And when you finally stop rehearsing your pain, something softer takes its place.
Maybe it’s peace.
Maybe it’s pity.
Maybe it’s love.
But it’s lighter. Always lighter.
Still…
Still learning to pray for the ones I don’t want to.
Still surprised that it works every single time.
Still finding that freedom doesn’t come when they apologize —
It comes when I stop waiting for them to.
As always - with much gratitude and love…DeeBo
Excellent
Reminds me of the Buddhist practice of Tonglen - you visualize taking in the suffering of others (including those who hurt you) and send out compassion. Some Buddhists believe it literally magically heals the world. I think it heals the one doing the practice.