Today I am finally, officially, divorced. On July 11th of last month, after five hours of looking through exhibits and notes and evidence in preparation for our second trial the next day, my attorney shut the paper packed binder, pulled his glasses down off his nose, looked up at me, and said “you were smart to file when you did.” Except all I felt was stupid. Dumb for getting married so young. Angry for listening to someone blindly while they led me astray. Annoyed that I did not know myself enough to say “enough,” before I did. Frustrated for the money lost. Nauseous after all the minutes spent reliving a disturbing past while those very same seconds simultaneously took from current time being gifted. And devastated - so deeply disappointed that the boys were not getting the “abundant” childhood I’d wished for them. But then that moment flashed before me. The one where he glanced over at me and asked “so now what happens?”. “We get divorced!” I replied fiercely, shaking, numb. I was three months pregnant, the pandemic was two months old, and after four days of pulling teeth and lies, I decided, in that moment, that I did not need a father bear in order to be a Momma bear. That actually I had already been doing both. That I could be protector and nurturer and provider... I had built three wombs, and a den, after all. So I cried - today, now, and many many hours before that dating back to May of 2020. My very own abundance of new water. A clean ocean for us to be carried on. Triumph and treasure from weathering the weather. Today I am free from delusion, darkness, dishonesty. Today I am a decade + one year wiser, three beautiful babies richer, and a whole lifetime brighter since meeting the “the one” I thought would be - only to discover I am her, it’s me.