I am non-confrontational. I am peace-loving and, in many situations, entirely too submissive for my own good.
Today, I was not. Today, I put my foot down. I surpassed what, at one point, had become something of a friendship, or at the very least, what I perceived to be a mutual respect - and spoke my mind. I demanded what I deserve, using all evidence in my possession to overcome the inevitable arguments.
I put aside my fears for the ramifications, my concerns for the possible effect on future business dealings in the world of publication, and my good old home-grown southern belle sweetness to insist that I receive satisfaction in a situation where there is no doubt that I'm in the right.
I do not feel empowered, though maybe mildly proud of the guts I finally scraped together to accomplish this not-so-small feat of fortitude. My guts are like jelly and I'm worried about just how, in a world of backstabbers, overly sensitive poets, and seriously female females, this will be twisted into a weapon upon which I will soon find myself professionally impaled. For that, my dears, is simply how things work out for me.