I Dropped the F-Bomb in a Courthouse. Twice.

Yes, twice. Which is surprising, because I am “nice”.

The incident happened a couple of weeks ago, but I want to start at the beginning. I was raised to not use the words “dumb,” “dummy,” or “stupid”. I was raised to not “hate” but I was allowed to “dislike”. This formula of values has served me well into adulthood and in raising two daughters, mostly alone. My girls play by theses same rules. This systems helps one from harboring feelings of resentment or vengefulness by choosing to take the higher road. The higher road is actually a lot more even keeled and stable than the combustible, verbally peppered path. The program suggests that by living a good life, by being happy and being “nice,” you’ll tick off your oppressors (notice I used the word “ticked” instead of something else), more than if you allow them to get your goat by giving them a reaction to their behavior. Ask anyone who knows me personally to give you some adjectives to describe me, and I bet you get “nice” more than a few times. Do I wish the adjectives were “sexy,” “appealing,” “intriguing,” or “mysterious”? Yes, I do, but it is what it is.

This is what makes it all the more surprising, and difficult to wrap my head around the action mentioned in the title of this little story. I was in an extended meeting in a courthouse cafeteria. I was being goaded. Apparently I was being provoked, but in the moment, all I felt was an assault on my character. And that’s when it happened. In my foggy memory of events, I stood up, maybe I pointed a finger, and I dropped the F-BOMB. TWICE. In the same memory fog, I think the cafeteria hushed and looked. I was in the presence of men. I was wearing a pretty 1950’s vintage dress and heels. Can I say that I am proud of my actions, heck no. Can I say that my truth and passion emerged in a momentary turrets-like slur of words? Yep. That was the moment that I knew I was still alive. My heart still beats and hot blood rushes through my veins.

An attorney said to me, “You should really be an attorney.” Then later he said, “You know, you come across very strong.” I knew that was meant to be an insult, as the standing verbal assault was still fresh in the minds of everyone present. My response to him was, “Strong to some, attractive to others.” That may have been a silly response but honestly, I didn’t know what else to say. I was still in that surreal state of trying to figure out who the woman spewing naughty venomous words was just a little while earlier.

Now the epiphany. I can happily announce that today I figured her out. Call it a life long journey of discovery, call all of this nonsense, but I know who she is. She is “STRONG” on the inside, and “NICE” on the outside. Just the way I want my daughters to be.

She is me.