For most fawners, our resentments simmer, right below the boiling point. I once told a therapist, “On the outside, I seem fine. But on the inside, I’m carrying the rage of a three-hundred-pound linebacker.” I knew I was angry, but I had no idea what to do with it. The people I was mad at couldn’t hear it, that much was clear. So I just held it. Hoping it would eventually go away on its own. News flash…that didn’t happen. It rarely does.
