Better or bitter?

I have always believed that trial by fire refines character, that surviving adversity makes people better, but what if instead it makes us bitter and brittle? (Bittle? Britter?)

Since my brush with death two years ago I have watched myself becoming both more and less patient: more patient with struggling students, less patient with colleagues behaving badly; more willing to speak up compassionately when someone needs help, less willing to bite my tongue when nonsense gets bruited about in meetings.

Surviving the fire made me more open to new experiences (hey, let's take a bunch of students to California!) but less willing to waste time slogging through mediocre fiction or hollow scholarship.  Life is too short to spend long hours in the company of Jude the Obscure.


Today I work harder and I demand more of myself than ever, but if I occasionally feel the need to watch an episode of The Office on my office computer, I make no excuses. I say No more often and stand up for my rights more firmly, and just today I demanded a well-deserved apology from someone who would have intimidated me into silence before.


I sort of like the new me but I wouldn't claim that I'm a better person. Bitter, yes: I struggle to keep the anger from bubbling over and poisoning my environment, but I'm always aware of the potent brew simmering away beneath the brittle surface. I may have survived my trial by fire, but deep inside the coals are still burning.