But I, who am wrong, am right!

 All resentment is based on this process:

- I have observed some things objectively
- I have correctly assembled those things into a picture
- I have accurately analysed what is going on in the picture
- I have a different picture: 'what should be'
- I have soundly compared the two

Having compared the two, I find reality 'wanting'.

All resentment feels justified.

But here's the snag:

If any of these steps is flawed, the outcome is flawed. Just like with solving equations in mathematics.

Resentment relies on certainty. Any uncertainty, and judgement must be withheld.

Might any of the steps be flawed?

As another text puts it:
In order to judge anything rightly, one would have to be fully aware of an inconceivably wide range of things; past, present and to come. One would have to recognize in advance all the effects of his judgments on everyone and everything involved in them in any way. And one would have to be certain there is no distortion in his perception, so that his judgment would be wholly fair to everyone on whom it rests now and in the future. Who is in a position to do this? Who except in grandiose fantasies would claim this for himself?
The pins to stick in the inflated balloon of resentment:

- I do not have all the facts: in fact I have only a few facts
- My perception ranges somewhere between being entirely inaccurate and entirely accurate
- My analytical skills range somewhere between being entirely unreliable and entirely reliable
- My notion of what should be is skewed by selfishness
- It is also skewed by ignorance, both of the presupposed facts and of future events
- The algorithm producing the 'what should be' is impossibly complex for any human mind
- If 'what should be' were reliably discernible, all would agree and all plans would succeed

Who but a hubristic fool could maintain the structure of resentment intact in the light of the above?

The above is the case with human beings in general.

But what about the alcoholic or addict? I, as an alcoholic and addict, have a tiny little history of getting things wrong: of believing, in the moment, that something is good and right but being shown again and again through experience that it is bad and wrong, yet never learning. Can you be more specific? Yes. Every single drink and 'acting out' seemed, on balance, in the moment of 'decision-making' (if you can call it that) to be A Good Idea. It was not. It was a bad idea. But it seemed to me to be a good idea.

There will be thousands of other examples: Every action I have ever taken that fractured or ruptured a relationship, caused confusion rather than harmony, ruffled feathers, produced adverse or suboptimal results in my own life, or inflicted harm on others seemed like A Good Idea at the time.

And how good a job am I doing at managing my own life? Well, today, a lot better than in the past, but do I ever misperceive? Do I ever mis-analyse? Do I ever mis-assess? Do my plans ever not succeed? Do I want to be happy all the time? Am I happy all the time? How good am I at being happy? How reliable a guide am I to what is, what should be, and how to get there?

I take this insight, and apply it back to the resentment structure:

The same mind that, on occasion, thinks a drink and a drug is a good idea, that produces outcomes that differ from those I desire and predict, is clearly unreliable. It is the same mind that has constructed the resentment, however. The starting presumption is thus that I might be right or I might be wrong. and the right approach is always to withhold final judgement. Presuming rightness is folly. The inverse applies with others: they might be wrong or they might be right. As soon as they might be right, the resentment is suspended.

And the ultimate kicker is this: If my thinking is sometimes flawed, and yet I do not realise it, the problem is twofold: firstly, part of my mind produces incorrect analyses and assessments; then, a second part of my mind fails to spot the flaws and instead validates them. Both the operative and the supervisor are flawed.

What is the answer? The notion of epistemic humility, which traces its roots back to Kant and Hume:

In the philosophy of science, epistemic humility refers to a posture of scientific observation rooted in the recognition that (a) knowledge of the world is always interpreted, structured, and filtered by the observer, and that, as such, (b) scientific pronouncements must be built on the recognition of observation's inability to grasp the world in itself.

This should and does make me fall silent in my resentment.