Snow White and the Seven Dwarves: the victim and her trusty companions

When I examine the (fancied or real) wrongdoing of others (columns 1 and 2 of the Step Four resentment inventory), I discover I am upset because it affects ME (column 3: my pride—what you think of me, my self-esteem—how I see myself, my personal and sex relations—how you treat me, and my ambitions, security, and pocketbooks—my wants and needs).

At this point in the inventory process, I'm still the victim of a cruel world that just cannot or will not follow my obviously divinely inspired script. I'm the rag doll in the mouth of the grizzly bear.

Another image: my demands are a mine field I have laid, and the world, unwittingly, tramps on through, carrying on its own business apparently regardless, and steps on mine after mine. Trouble is, I'm the one that blows up, not them. Everyone else just plods on, unsuspecting (if they are out of range) or incredulous at the explosions (if they are unfortunate enough to be in range).

"The first thing apparent was that this world and its people were often quite wrong." (P. 66:0)

Funny thing, the Big Book does not contradict this! It does concede that the wrongdoing may be real or fancied, but it does not suggest that our observations of the wrongdoings of others are, themselves, necessarily inaccurate. There may be part of a bigger picture that is obscured from our gaze, and p. 66:3 ("We were prepared to look at it from an entirely different angle") sets us down a path that expands our view of the situation sufficiently, with any luck, for us ultimately "to take a kindly and tolerant view" (p. 67:1).

In my inventory, there were, however, categorical wrongs done to me. Pretty much everyone's inventory has them.

And the pain caused by those events was real. Incidentally, if the pain was not felt at the time, it may need to be felt now. All this is good and natural as a response to painful stimuli.

However, I found myself at five, ten, fifteen years sober still smarting in my victimhood at the terrible unfairness of being born into the family I was born into, with all of the consequences that flowed from that in terms of damage as I was growing up, or, more accurately, failing to grow up.

"We turned back to the list, for it held the key to the future. We were prepared to look at it from an entirely different angle. We began to see that the world and its people really dominated us. In that state, the wrongdoings of others, fancied or real, had power to actually kill. How could we escape? We saw that these resentments must be mastered, but how? We could not wish them away any more than alcohol." (P. 66:3)

The real question is, 'do I want to be free'? Of course! However, I am not responsible for what was done to me, and, as p. 66:0 indicates, the world and its people are often quite (= 100%) wrong. Where on earth do I go from here?

My problem, for a long time, was adopting the whole "what is my part?" approach. Whilst you still have a part in my unhappiness, I will never be free. And, the greater your actual wrong, the greater your part, and the less free I will be. I'm screwed!

That is why I am so grateful for the following insight I was given:

Other people are 100% responsible for their actions and reactions ("... quite wrong"); I am 100% responsible for my actions and reactions.

That is why there is no such thing as 'their part' and ’my part'.

P. 67:2 tells us repeatedly:

"Putting out of our minds the wrongs others had done ... we tried to disregard the other person involved entirely ... The inventory was ours, not the other man's".

Take your actions and reactions out of the picture, and I'm left just with mine. There are no 'parts' any more. If I am 100% responsible for my actions and reactions, you have no dominion over me at all.

So, now I had established that freedom was even possible, I was left with the thorny question: why was I perversely hanging on to, entertaining, nursing, and harbouring past resentments at genuine wrongs? I was clearly suffering and clearly wanted to be free. I felt completely trapped, however, and continued to blame those who had wronged me for the lifelong prison I believed myself condemned to. I did not want to be a victim (who, really, would want to be?), but I saw no way out.

"We were prepared to look at it from an entirely different angle" (p. 66:3).

Let us take the 'it' to be my victimhood. Flip it over, see what happens. Inextricably tied to my victimhood is a set of other roles: prosecutor, judge, jury, and executioner, amongst others. And these are extremely enticing. Self-righteousness rocks, for a while! Momentary satisfaction every time I garner sympathy and understanding, set out the prosecutor's case, deliver the jury's verdict, hand down the sentence, and strike back, or strike out, to punish whoever happens to be in the way.

Furthermore, victimhood means I do not need to take responsibility for my conduct, because, if my conduct flows unimpeded from my ineradicable past, from the wrongs done to me, I can just pass the blame on to the source and avoid any accountability.

To be free of victimhood—to be free of what was done to me—I have to become willing to be liberated, also, from the roles of Snow White (who is clearly responsible for nothing—she's Teflon) and her Seven Dwarves: the prosecutor, the judge, the jury, the executioner, the politician, the reformer, and the minister sighing over the sins of others. They come as a package deal with victimhood.

I have found change to be possible, but only once, in Step Six, I find what I identify in me to be objectionable (p. 76). I was not responsible for the wrong done to me—for the slaps in the face and far, far worse. But, as I repeated the story back to myself time and time again over the decades, each time unwittingly embellishing, stylising, and honing, I was inflicting on myself the same slaps in the face—and far, far worse, in the form of actions taken on the basis of this narrative of myself.

This continual self-imposed re-enactment from a self-righteous vantage-point was what I ultimately had to find objectionable, although the admission of this was gruelling.

"The truth will set you free, but, first of all, it will really piss you off." (Not in the Big Book, literally, but the idea is set out on p. 25:1.)

May some dark insight really piss you off, because freedom may therefore be on its way!