Monday I found out that my ex-boss from my old job at “that place” died. She was 82.
She had health issues, which I would be willing to bet contributed to her passing away, but honestly, I think she was ready to go be with her husband, who passed many years before.
I’ve written before about her. About how I think she wanted to stop time when her husband passed, & was bitter over the fact that the rest of the world wouldn’t cooperate.
I… have… feelings… about this woman. And no, they’re not pleasant feelings.
Yes, I’m still angry.
Because of things she said & did, because of things she stood aside and allowed to be said to me by others, when, as my employer, she should have stood up for me – this was the span of time when I had to start talking to my doctor about anxiety, & finding the right medication for it, because it spiralled out of control.
Maybe it would have happened eventually, anyway? Maybe not? But, the stress this woman put me under at my job, due to her direct influence and due to her selfish neglect, I truly believe she caused a chain reaction for me that ended up with panic attacks and severe anxiety.
Both have now been tempered, thank Goddess, but it was really bad, back then.
I’ve had a couple people tell me I should just “let it go”, now that she’s gone. And that I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.
That day is not today.
I will start to let go of the anger I have towards her, because I am still in the healing process.
But it won’t happen today.
I won’t let myself become bitter with this, or hold this grudge. I’m not good at grudges.
And I know the sharp, hot taste of anger in my mouth, the heat of it rising like magma in my chest, making me shake with it as I used to drive past her other business & would flip it the bird.
Yes, I used to flip her other business off…every time I drove by it. EVERY. TIME.
For those who don’t live in my city, or know which business she ran, it sat on one of the main thorough-fares in our city, and I drove past it at least once a week, if not 3 or 4 times.
That’s a lot of middle fingers.
But I know that spicy, angry tang… doesn’t last.
Unless you fuel it, religiously topping it with the coal it needs to keep embers ablaze in your gut for years.
Leaving you with the bitter fallout of ash on your tongue.
You speak nothing but that bitter taste, for that’s all you know, constantly regurgitating it from within, constantly stoking that furnace of hatred and regret, leaving you nothing but gray.
No color, no joy, no future.
I do know the difference between temporary anger, and permanent bitterness.
Even if my anger has been 10 years in the healing, and still – the scabs crack & bleed a little when scraped.
I’m working on healing.
But – It won’t quite be today.