For when your life blows up

The last 9 months have been hard.

The person I thought was the love of my life left me.
Because he left me, I left my stable job as a partner at a law firm. It was the last straw.
I had to hire legal counsel to help me resolve financial and contract issues with my former law partners. 
People I trusted and considered family. I lost more than money. 
It feels like I endured five breakups. 
I took a job with the prestigious Stritmatter firm… in Seattle. 
I love my new law firm and everything it stands for. 
But my home and my roots are in Tacoma. 
I am now strategizing a move to a new city. 
In the middle of a pandemic. 
And every day, I use my energy and resources and heart to fight for my wonderful clients.

Because they need me as much as I need me.
It’s a lot. 

But, dammit, I’m a fighter.
And through the sleep I’ve lost
The tears I’ve shed
The questions I’ve asked myself
I have never doubted that I am a fighter.

Fighting like hell is what makes me a good trial lawyer.
I am not the smartest person in the room.
And I am certainly not the most charismatic. 
But I clutch the thinnest strand of hope in my fist and

I use that strand like a rope and I claw my way out of whatever ditch or well or ravine life has thrown in my path. 
I clutch the thinnest strand of hope. And I use that strand like a lasso and I draw in connections, opportunity, ideas. 

I am a survivor. 
I will fight until my last breath draws. 
I’ll let you in on a secret: Getting my ass kicked only makes me work harder.

If you are here and you are reading this when you’re kicked and bloodied and covered in mud, know this:

I hear you. And you are not alone.