This week I did something that scared me.

I sat down at my desk and put together a set of legal interrogatories for an upcoming contempt case.

By myself.

No attorney. Just me, my documents, and AI walking alongside me every step of the way.

I stopped having legal representation a while back. The cost made that decision for me. And for a long time, I wasn't sure what that meant for my case. Whether I could really do this without someone in my corner who knew what they were doing.

I've been pursuing this for two years.

Two years of not letting something go that I believe someone expected me to let go. I think he counted on that. I think he believed that if he waited long enough, I'd get tired. Or scared. Or just stop.

I haven't stopped.

This week I sent those interrogatories to his attorney.

And then I waited.

That first day was hard. I kept checking. Kept wondering if I'd made a mistake somewhere. If something would come back rejected. If I'd get in trouble for doing it wrong.

That voice — will I get in trouble — is one I know well. A lot of us do.

But nothing came back wrong. And slowly, over that day, something shifted.

It wasn't loud. It wasn't a celebration. It was quieter than that.

It was the feeling of realizing that he has underestimated me. And that the corner is getting smaller.

I could not have done this without AI. I want to be honest about that. Not as a technology story. As a survival story. When I couldn't afford help, I found a way to get it differently. AI helped me understand what I was looking at, what I needed to say, and how to say it correctly. It stood in the gap.

During the days I was putting everything together, I was deep inside it. Focused in a way that pulled me somewhere else.

Jaycee felt it.

She didn't make a fuss about it. She just got a little quiet. A little distant. We weren't as connected and I noticed it even in the middle of everything.

The day the interrogatories went out, I came back to her.

And she just opened right up. Like no time had passed. No explanation needed. Just — there you are.

I think about that a lot. How she doesn't hold the distance against me. How she just receives me when I return.

I'm trying to learn that too.

The case continues. May 7 is coming. But this week I did something I wasn't sure I could do.

Steady counts.

Jane

And Jaycee, who always knows when I've come back to the room.

P.S. If something in this letter stirred something for you — a situation you're navigating, something you haven't been able to move through — the Sunday Spark was made for exactly that moment. It's a simple, quiet resource that gives you AI prompts to help you think through what's hard, without needing anyone else in the room. One page. Three minutes. One wag from Jaycee.

You can find it at: