The Mediator urged me to look at the process–the progress we had made. A few little agreements. Ok. But what about the mean comments, what about the violations of the agreements, what about the threats to hide behind BigDaddyLegalSystem’s skirts? I need to hold on to those things. I have to monitor them. The intrusions into trust. My boundaries crushed underfoot like the grass on the football field after a game. I might need to grab me a lawyer too. The situation is unstable, likely to topple over and fail.
“Tiffany,” the Mediator soothed, “ you can stand up for yourself, but reply out of love and strength.” I was just proud of myself that I even wanted to stand up.
Love? I snorted. Strength?
Well, maybe strength means I am not scrambling, not desperate to hold on to my dignity because I am comfortable that it is there already. I am not fighting for my dignity; I already have it. It is my choice to own it.
Baby steps of progress. Lower levels of hostility, though, mean progress can totter forward, unsteady, faltering tiny steps.