Bitterness

“Growth in wisdom may be exactly measured by decrease in bitterness.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche

I love this quote because it is a great truth.

We all struggle in our lives. Struggle is relative, in that whatever my biggest problem is, it may be worse or better than your biggest problem, but my biggest problem is my biggest problem, and yours is yours. Mileage on that school of thought may vary, but I stand by it.

Where there is struggle, there is often blame. Our basic need for meaning drives us to attribute some cause, some reason, some cosmic sense to our pain. Some take all the blame themselves, one more weapon in an arsenal of self hate. Some people dole out all the blame to others, so there is none left for them take on themselves.  They wear their bitterness like a cloak, seeing slight in every interaction, more proof that they are a victim in this world.

Wisdom is the cure to bitterness. It allows us to see that we are neither wholly innocent or guilty; that we must take credit for our part in causing our struggles, but that nothing is in our complete control, and so all the blame in any given struggle is not ours alone. It allows us to understand the part we play in our own drama, and further, allows us to understand where others come from, and why they act the way we do.

Bitterness is something I’ve grown up with my entire life. From the moment I was born, I was slipped under the cloak of bitterness. Enough so that nearly all of my memories of my childhood are bittersweet. The poison just soaks through everything, so that very little is left pure and unscathed.

I have been given bitterness, but I have chosen wisdom. I am bitter at times, I certainly have that tendancy to feel slighted, to play the vicitm. I welcome it, because the bitterness burns my heart and my soul. It hurts me deeply, and in so doing, drives me to heal old wounds, which drives me to seek more wisdom.

Bitterness is a cage washed in acid- a confined space that one cannot leave, that others cannot enter, but there is no respite there. Every surface of that prison cell is washed in caustic acid, so that every movement burns and eats away the flesh.

I have a key in my pocket that unlocks the door to that cell.

I only wish I could make copies for people.

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