Something in me just won't let me quit.
Sometimes I think I would like to move to Costa Rica or someplace like that a just live off my small county pension and live in a dusty little town and learn another language and do NOTHING.
But I can't.
There is no challenge in sitting on my butt and watching the world go by. And it is a challenge that always gets me. I don't want it to, but it does.
From the very first person that told me I was too cute to go to college to the person that told me that girls can't compete in sports to the judge that still thinks that women can't do "big" cases. I just can't walk away.
When I tell Melodie about the first time I tried to buy a car and was told that either my husband or my father would have to co-sign for me, she is still in disbelief. When I tell her my first interview for a job as a lawyer started off with "what does a sweet young thing like you want to do in law?" she is shocked. She was 13 years old then.
We have come a long way.
So when I hit rough patches like this week (which had nothing to do with work and everything to do with living and dying) I try to remember what I have accomplished and how much more there is to do.
I still have to be the pushy broad sometimes. Sometimes I have to remind those around me that my skills are as good and usually better than theirs and they really should recognize that. I still have to fight the good fight and do it cleanly and with my head held high.
And I do it for Melodie and I do it for women of her age. And I do it for Angelo and young men of his age. I do it so they will never, ever, have to fight that fight. They will have other fights but not that one.
I may get discouraged. I may get down. But I am never out. And I just can't quit.
Maybe someday, I won't feel like I have to fight so much. I hope so.