If you take umbrage you have to pick it up – it may be heavy – and carry it around, possibly for some time. It may be weighty enough that it compromises your capacity to carry other things. Things that are useful to you. Nutritious things. Which umbrage is not. Umbrage is a parasite.
So, now that you are a grown-up, leave umbrage well alone. Yes, it possesses a certain siren song. It’s always tempting to be lit from within by the glow of righteous indignation. To seize the moral high ground and then wear it, proudly and loudly. But you need to rise above. Because umbrage is undignified. Annoying but true.
This is because the taking of umbrage is self-victimising. Passive. Do not take umbrage and wander around trying to spread it like manure; converting others along the way.
If you are offended, speak it, rise above it or amputate it. Do not drift around the place aggrieved, drenched in the cologne of martyrdom. The sympathy you encounter will not be real. Umbrage isn’t grief or betrayal or heart-break. It’s a nasty little worm of a thing that the spinster vicar’s daughters in novels convert their sexual frustration into, in the hope it will win them some spotlight. Umbrage is sulking and sulking is silly and you are not silly.
Fury on the other hand? Well, no one’s asking you to be an angel. Feel the feelings but don’t lug the small slights through the day with you. Why make life heavier?