There is a question I have been asking myself all week.

What is the worst thing that could happen to me?

I walk into a courtroom on Thursday. No attorney. Just me.

I am representing myself because I can no longer afford an attorney. Two years of appeals will do that. Tens of thousands of dollars to fight for what was already mine. At some point the money runs out. And you have to walk in alone.

Two years of appeals. One after another. All the way to the Georgia Supreme Court. Every one denied.

Two years of fighting to keep what a judge already decided was mine. Written into the divorce decree. Agreed. Done.

Except it wasn't done. Because someone decided it wouldn't be.

So there will be an attorney on the other side of that room. Trained to trip me up. Trained to find the crack.

I have been preparing for this day for two years. Every denial. Every appeal. Every time I had to understand something I never expected to have to understand.

I did not go to law school. But I have lived inside this case. I know it.

This week is the final push. Writing the summary for the judge. Organizing exhibits. Going over what I know, what I can say, what I need to be ready for.

And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I sat down with AI.

Not to have it do anything magical. Not because I trust it more than myself. But because I needed to think out loud, and I needed something that would help me do it like a professional.

It helped me see what I actually knew. It helped me write things the way they needed to be written. It helped me prepare for what might come at me in that room.

It didn't take the fear away. But it gave me something to do with it.

And then I asked myself that question.

What is the worst thing that could happen?

The judge sides with them. More delays. Another postponement. We leave that room and nothing is resolved.

That is the worst thing.

And when I sat with it — really sat with it — I realized I can survive that. I have already survived two years of it.

The anxiety is still there. I am not pretending it isn't. But under it, there is something steadier.

I know what I know. I did the work. I am going to show up.

Jaycee has been close all week. Curled up near me while I write, while I prepare, while I sit in the quiet before Thursday.

She was the best thing that came from this marriage.

And somehow that is enough to hold onto.

If you want to send me an encouraging word before Thursday, I would love to hear from you.

Jane, (and Jaycee)

P.S. What I did this week — using AI to think clearly when I was overwhelmed — is exactly what Finally Forward is.

It is a live one-hour workshop on Thursday, May 14 at 7:00 PM Eastern. You don't need to have anything figured out ahead of time. You just need to show up. We cut through the noise together and find what actually matters most right now.

$10. Capped at 12.