Tough Mudder

And though she be but little, she is fierce.

~William Shakespeare, 
A Midsummer Night's Dream~

I had a really good therapy appointment last night. I love therapy. I recommend it to EVERYONE, even you less-than-crazies. Actually, in my experience, the ones who know they're crazy are probably less crazy than the ones who don't think they're crazy, 'cause we all a little loopy in our own way. So those of you who don't think you need therapy, I'm a little worried for you.

Anyway, last night I filled my therapist in on the latest rollercoaster ride of my life, and she helped me realize something amazing: I have faced my biggest fears.

That sounds so simple as a statement, but to actually accomplish it--wow. I was terrified for so long of the repercussions of filing for divorce that my fears dominated all my decisions. And guess what? Every one of my fears came true. I worried he would be very upset--which he was. I worried he would fight me for the kids and the house--which he is. I worried he would tell massive lies about me to everyone and make my life a living hell--which he did. I worried he would overreact and hit me with all kinds of lawsuits and legal crap--which he partially did and threatened me with even more. The things is, even if he follows through on all his threats, I know I can deal with it, because I have a few things on my side: 

First and foremost, I have the truth, which is more powerful than any of his lies or threats.

I have a slightly higher level of sanity.

I have the fruits of my labors, and he has the fruits of his. Guess whose are sweeter?

I have an army of people supporting me and rooting me on, on both sides of the veil.

In fact, that last one is what pulled me through the hardest part of my most recent battles. I come from a heritage of strong and stubborn "son of a guns," as my Papa would say. The kind of heritage that has given me the gumption to look at my greatest fears and say, without flinching, "bring it." 

I found myself flipping through a scrapbook the evening after our "mediation." (What an inaccurate word for what actually happened. More like an accusation and blame fest.) I saw pictures of my great-grandma and great-great-grandma, who both lived well into their 90s, buried their own babies, and worked the land until their fingers and backs bent and their minds went. I saw pictures of my grandpa, who rustled cattle and poured his blood and sweat into the desert heat to provide for his family any way he could. His family was the only thing that ever really mattered to him. I think I inherited that. (The family part, not the rustling cows part.)

I've stated before that I hate contention and do anything I can to avoid it, but you threaten me or my kids and you'll see what I mean by how I come from strong and stubborn stock. I really can handle anything he or anyone else throws at me. I've already survived the worst I could imagine, and it didn't kill me. I got knocked down, beaten up a little, but every time I fell I stood back up, dusted myself off, and marched straight forward again. As a result, I can look at myself and, for the first time in a long time, be really, truly, proud.