The nutmeg chronicles, Part 3

Hello once again, gentle readers. Here’s a quick recap of The Nutmeg Chronicles, parts 1 and 2.
Two years ago I swallowed some uncooked nutmeg that caused what I can only describe as a burn to my esophagus and stomach. This necessitated several visits to different medical professionals, but no one seemed inclined to do a scope and check it out until three weeks ago, at which time I was given the diagnosis of erosive gastritis and put on some medication for acid control. I’ve also embarked on a self-healing regimen which is progressing nicely, though not without a few hiccups. But still a question remained. The doctor said that my esophagus was fine. So then, why did my esophagus heal but not my stomach?
This, I think, is why.
Almost at the exact same time as I was pouring spicy porridge down my gullet, I embarked on an extremely difficult professional relationship with someone who pushed buttons I didn’t even know I had! Just about everything this person did made me angry, but I thought good Christian girls like myself didn’t feel anger, or if they did, they never expressed it openly.
So I swallowed it. Let it literally eat me from the inside out.
I overlooked, ignored, and excused, but I would not confront. For a year I seethed, and at one point, a tiny little nothing thing this person did put me in such a state I physically trembled with rage. But still I overlooked, ignored, and excused, and did not confront.
When the relationship ended, I had enormous trouble getting over it. Many a night I lost sleep finally coming to terms with my anger. But I did the work. I forgave – over and over, because the first time didn’t take. (Hate it when that happens!) I admitted my part in the trouble, and then I made amends, and felt a great sense of relief afterwards. I dusted off my hands and thought that’s that.
Only months later another professional relationship began with someone who could have been the first person’s twin judging by the stomach-churning, trouble sleeping effect they had on me. So I asked God, “What gives? Why the quick karmic rebound? Didn’t I learn my lessons the first time? Haven’t I forgiven enough, made amends, and moved on? What have I left undone?”
“You’re angry at this new person.”
“Well, sure, a little, I guess.”
“A lot, and you know it. But they don’t. Tell them. Or show them. For the sake of your health, let it out.”
“But what if I go too far? Lose control? I don’t want to hurt them.”
No reply. The Divine’s way of saying, “You’ll figure it out.”
So I prayed, for myself and them, put us both in the hands of the Divine, and asked that I recognize the signs if I was meant to speak. Days later, an unmistakable sign was given, and this flat-footed, near-sighted little girl from Creighton Mine stood firm and tall in her truth and said, “Enough,” said it without rancour, without hostility, but said it, and said it publicly. A very short time after that, under a completely different set of circumstances and people, I said it again. Again publicly. My heart was thundering both times, but I did it. And if needs be, with God’s help, I’ll do it again.
I was discussing anger management with my NP, and she reminded me that expressing anger won’t necessarily change people’s behaviour. Not the point. I’m not trying to get people to come to their senses and do things the right way, i.e. my way. I’m trying to heal and protect my health, which means I’ll have my say, then walk away.
But I will have my say.
So there you go, girls and boys. Me, learning another life lesson, painful and slow and oft times needing to be repeated, but learning nonetheless. I take hope in the fact that two steps forward and one step back is still progress.