Here is an excerpt from a guest blog post I was honored to write for my friend, Jodi Rosser, on her Heartbreak to Strength blog series.

I love happy endings.

I want to be the hero of my story that prevails and triumphs over evil. The villain hatches a plan and enlists people for this evil plan to come to fruition after years of nursing a grudge or secret delusions. I go about my day, looking exceptional in a spandex suit and mask (cape optional), saving one innocent victim after another, I’m completely naïve to the evil that’s about to be unleashed.

The evil plan begins to unfold. The villain monologues a series of bad puns sprinkled with awkward humor. I suffer a series of small defeats, and people are lost to the evil side. I take inventory of my losses. I’m battered. I’m weary. My spandex, soiled. All hope seems lost…until.

I gird myself with a speech that emboldens me to take on the struggle. Fight the fight. Because that’s what heroes do. There’s an epic struggle between me and evil. And then, with a series of cleverly-executed moves, I emerge victorious. As I stand above the rubble, I coyly smile at the battle waged behind me. No, evil hasn’t won today.

Cue the soundtrack. Roll the credits.

THAT’S THE STORY I WANT TO BE TRUE.

Then, there’s the truth. The spandex? No, just a sweat-stained shirt. Mask? Nope, just no makeup. That speech? It’s a whisper of a pep talk in a bathroom to myself. There’s no soundtrack. Just muffled sobs. And victory? Nowhere in sight.

You can read the rest of my piece here.