What Happens When Your Nemesis Dies?
Recently, my nemesis died. It was after a long illness that I wouldn’t have wished on anyone, not even my nemesis. I should probably stop throwing around the word nemesis so freely here. After all, I’m no Batman and she wasn’t any sort of Joker.
She was however what I still consider to be the worst boss that I have ever had in my life. The days working for her were torturous. I believe that she lied to me, lied about me, threw me under the bus… then she backed up that bus and hit me again. I loathed my days working under her broken dictatorship so much that even as I write these words almost ten years later, I still feel myself getting frustrated.
Leaving her department and feeling like I left them in a bad position was something that brought me great joy. Even though, looking back, I feel bad about the way I exited. After all, until that point, honestly, she liked me and I think believed that I liked her.
For a long time when her name was mentioned, I would explain to anyone who would listen why I hated her and why everyone else should too. I carried that baggage with me for so long that it was simply embarrassing.
After several years, I finally resigned to myself that I forgave her for all the things she had done to me and even magnanimously proclaimed that if I ever saw her again, I would tell her that I had indeed forgiven her. The sad truth was that those words were hollow. In fact, so much so, that I recall thinking one day about my success in my current job and how if she knew about it, she would probably think her tough lessons on me had something to do with it. And once again, I was filled with negativity. The idea that she had helped me in any way was preposterous in my mind. I saw her as nothing more than a bully.
A few years ago I heard she was sick and that it was very serious. My negative feelings for her aside, I would never wish sickness on someone. It felt so surreal hearing that a person who I knew personally and had such contempt for was now suddenly in grave danger. For me, this was a first time experience. I hemmed and hawed about it for awhile and then reached out to a mutual friend to ask how she was doing. Turns out she had a rough few months but pulled through and the prognosis was good. The relief I felt at reading that news was instant. It felt as if I was off the hook for all my negative emotions towards her. I mean, she wasn’t dead. My job was done here.
But that wasn’t true. The damage was done on my end. In those moments that I had been concerned about her health, I had thought about her children, her family, her friends and her life in general. I had humanized her. She was no longer this evil person doing vile deeds. She was a flawed human being, just like some jerk I know who held a grudge for way too long. And I felt better. I certainly never wanted to speak to her again, but I could truly forgive her for her misdeeds and finally feel compassion regarding where she was coming from all those years ago.
Like most bullies, she was insecure. It was something I ignored but in hindsight I could see it. She was, after all, a single mother to three kids working at a failing company in an industry that was crashing to the ground. Her fear was absolutely justified and maybe, I should have given her more slack for the things that she did that were wrong. I can’t count the number of times people have given me slack even when I didn’t deserve it. A leadership coach I once spoke with said to assume people are doing the best they can with what they have. That’s advice I wish I had heard back when I worked for her.
A couple months ago, I heard that she was sick again and this time it was inoperable. She was placed in Hospice and given weeks to live. I read through her comments on social media and saw a woman at the end of her journey, who seemed sad and maybe a bit scared. From there I was flooded with an overwhelming urge to reach out to her. I fought it at first and didn’t contact her. But the pull was too great to ignore. This was my last chance to tell her the truth and to fully clear my conscience. It was my last chance to explain to her all of the repercussions that our time spent working together had on my future.
So I did it. I sent her a message. I cleared the air. I thanked her. I explained where my career had gone and how it never would have happened without the lessons I learned working for her. How in my business life she had a huge impact on who I am today. She responded with a simple thumbs up. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more than that. In fact, I had this stray idea that maybe just maybe after all these years we could strike up some conversation in her last days. But then I reminded myself, it’s not about me. This was about sending true and loving words to a dying woman. Whatever was meant by that thumbs up, I will never know. And that’s okay.
This is a lesson I will carry with me for the rest of my life. That simple act of reaching out to her — acknowledging what she did for me — gave me more peace concerning our relationship than anything else ever could have. The thumbs up was even more than I needed. Just knowing she read the words was enough.
It’s so easy to cast people in the role of villain in our lives. We do it every single day. Sure, real villains absolutely exist in this world and we are called to stand up to them. Yet, those around us are not always so easy classified as these two dimensional beings from a movie or comic. When we reduce them to these things, we miss the their three dimensional human side. And we’ll never see their circumstances and never understand what drives them to act as they do for both bad and good. Like a lonely woman who probably just wanted the best for her and her family. That’s the real tragedy.
I almost lost my chance to fill in the gaps. To seek to understand. To actually forgive. To have real closure. To be granted peace. Don’t lose your chance.
-Jason