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Written Wednesday, July 6  

OK, OK. I am making my own rules now. 21 days of writing. I’m gonna do this. But....the 21 days may not be consecutive.  

Here’s the deal. Sometimes the things I write (such as my blog on Day 2) are heavy. It takes a lot of time and energy to write them. And it takes more time and energy to shed them. I’ve been shedding. I’ve been thinking and praying and hoping. I kinda feel that I should burst into song at any moment. Tra la la la la.  

We recently celebrated Independence Day. It’s a wonderful holiday, and I love the BBQ’s, the parades, and of course, the fireworks. But this year, Independence Day has an even more personal meaning. I spent the 3rd and 4th of July communicating with my attorney, as we worked together to prepare my motion for a renewal of my domestic violence protection order. In the fine state of Washington, where my DVOP was granted, the “law” requires you to request a renewal exactly 90 days in advance of the expiration date. For me, that 90-day mark is July 7th. Let freedom ring, indeed.  

I sent my attorney my declaration earlier this week, in which I stated that I was afraid for my life, and for the safety of my children. I wrote that I had given up a lucrative position, a beautiful home, and a network of colleagues and friends to escape my situation. All of those things are true. And none of them matter to me, not in comparison to what I gained by leaving them behind.  It hit me today that I would gladly pay this price and then some for my kids. Roan is learning to hit a baseball with a bat. Posey is toothless and lovely and a budding artist. Penelope counted 1...2....3 today for the first time. What does it matter that I am afraid, really? If they are happy, I am happy.  

Happy Independence Day to all.


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