I just really like this picture, it has almost nothing to do with the story #radicalhonesty 

Continued from Part 3:

How. Dare. She.


I was shocked. I felt like the ugly "noble" monster inside of me was just thrown a big fat juicy steak. She was growing, banging angrily against the cage inside of me where I locked her. I wanted to lash out at Hubs, punish him for being so desirable.

But of course, it wasn't his fault. This was another challenge from the universe to teach me that I can control absolutely nothing. Except how I reacted. That was mine.

My anger at this violation of the girl code reared up inside of me. I knew her behavior was abominable. That my hubs was too good of a man to be with a woman who could throw me under the bus like that. I was not threatened by her - I was only threatened by my own monsters: insecurity, fear and the worst one, the one that eats my gratitude.

Hubs could love me, could see how viable and amazing I was. It was time that I did, too.

I would not let this poor creature drag me down. I would only pity her and then let it go. I would count my own blessings, instead of hers. I would channel my anger into a fire that would scorch my insecurities out of me until all that was left was space for more love.

So I made a very bitchy list.

Here's what I had that she didn't:

I had the strength to know that cancer was not my fault. It wasn't something I could control. Being a nasty, competitive clinger who went after other people's men was something she could control. She chose not to. Points: Dena

I had friends who would never let me send a text message like that. Who would protect me from my own big mouth and the seeming ease of communication that is the ill-advised late night text message. This girl had nobody taking care of her, had nobody saying - "You are the villain in this story. This is not you offering a comforting friendship to a guy going through something hard. This could be screenshot and put on the internet. Give me that phone." I did. Points: Dena

I know that this is not the kindest, most positive thing I have ever written. I know this poor girl would be ashamed if I outed her, something I would never do. I know she's in a relationship now, that years have passed and I am happily, blissfully, confidently married.

But this sad reality has haunted me. Why do women compete over love? Why do they let romantic love bring out a part of them that allows them to tear into other women? Who's truly winning with this behavior?

If we all strived to be the best versions of ourselves, celebrated each others triumphs, relished each others happiness and bolstered each other where would we be? If we didn't let subtle, petty manipulations suck dry our energy, feed our insecurities and weaken us, what could we accomplish?

Girl Code, as I have taken to calling it here, is just a kind of morality that says that we will feed the beast inside of us that gives instead of taking. That grows us bigger when we can be the person growing other people bigger.

Over time my anger at this girl turned to pity, then understanding and finally hope. Yes, I "won" but what I really won is not my husband - it's my friends. The girls I have the pleasure of knowing, who form the network of love and support that enable me and hubs to have such a full and happy life. Who hold me to a higher standard of morality, enforce in me the desire to be less competitive and more supportive of each other. Without them, there is no winning.

Let's bring back the Girl Code. Are you with me?