Trying to Stay Out of That Dark Tunnel

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The Weight I Didn’t Know I Was Carrying

I used to think I knew what pain was. I thought I had felt it all—the betrayals, the disappointments, the times people left when I needed them the most. But what I didn’t realize was that the heaviest thing I was carrying wasn’t the pain itself.

It was the resentment.

For years, I walked around with it. It was in my chest when I woke up, in my head when I tried to sleep. I carried it 24/7, even in my dreams.

It twisted my thoughts, poisoned my relationships, and made me feel like the world owed me something.

And no matter what I did—drugs, alcohol, anything to numb it—it never went away.

Because resentment isn’t something you can drown. It isn’t something you can bury. It’s a chain. And every time I replayed what had happened to me, I was the one keeping myself shackled to it.

The Prison I Built

Mr. 7 sent me something the other day, and I swear it hit me like a punch to the gut:

“It takes two to make a prisoner; a prisoner and a jailer. There is no such thing as being a prisoner on one’s own account. Moreover, the jailer is as much a prisoner as his charge.”

I sat with that for a long time.

I had spent years thinking I was the victim. That I was carrying all this anger because of what people had done to me.

But I never stopped to ask myself—what was I really doing to myself by holding onto it?

I was the one holding the keys. I was the one keeping myself locked in.

Seeing Myself for the First Time

I thought detox would fix everything. I thought if I got sober, the weight would lift. But it didn’t. Because addiction wasn’t the real problem—resentment was.

Six months in treatment forced me to see that.

I had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Therapy stripped away the excuses and made me face myself. For the first time, I saw exactly who I had become.

And I realized something that shook me to my core:

I wasn’t strong because I carried all this pain. I was weak because I refused to let it go.

My heart was wide open, but still frozen. I had spent so long building walls that I didn’t even know who I was anymore outside of the anger.

Who was I, if not the person who had been hurt?

And more importantly—who did I want to become?

The Choice to Let Go

Forgiveness isn’t easy. Nobody tells you that. They make it sound like a single moment—like you just decide one day to let go, and suddenly everything feels lighter.

But that’s not how it works.

For me, letting go felt like withdrawing from a drug. I had built my entire identity around my pain. It fueled me. It kept me guarded. It kept me safe.

But it also kept me in that dark tunnel.

And I was tired of living in the dark.

So I made a choice.

I loosened the chains.

I let go of the anger.

Not for them. Not because they deserved it.

But because I did.

Freedom in Forgiveness

That passage Mr. 7 sent me ends with something even more powerful:

“By forgiveness, you set yourself free; you save your soul. And because the law of love works alike for one and all, you help to save his soul too.”

I used to think forgiving someone was letting them off the hook. Like it meant what they did was okay. But now I see it for what it really is—it’s setting myself free.

Forgiveness doesn’t change the past. But it sure as hell changes the future.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but if you’re carrying something heavy—some old wound, some deep anger you haven’t been able to let go of—ask yourself this:

Do you want to stay a prisoner? Or do you want to walk out of that tunnel?

Because I promise you, the light is waiting.

FaceThyFear. Live to Love.

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