Amy Heidbreder

Let freedom ring.

This is a day of celebration for America. It represents the birth of this nation, a declaration of freedom, and symbolizes the thread that makes us whole as a country. It will be capped off by a lot of eating and drinking, fireworks, and fur baby parents comforting distressed dogs.

After the celebrating, I’ll retreat to my home, where a borrowed vehicle sits parked out front for who knows how much longer, as mine sits in storage, waiting out an investigation into a car accident. I’ll promptly disarm and rearm my newly installed security system and retreat to bed, underneath which lies a heavy axe. Let me tell you just how much has changed since I last wrote a blog…

Life has dealt some pretty heavy punches this year. Since I last blogged, I spent over a month not sleeping at home for my safety after acquiring an “admirer” who came on WAY too strong. I incurred some unexpected expenses, investing in better security and having to repair my vehicle when in a rush between sleeping arrangements I busted a tire on a curb. Additionally, my vehicle developed a transmission leak. Thankfully it wasn’t at all major—just a few plugs that had to be tightened. Then about 4–6 weeks after getting all those repairs, and only FOUR DAYS after spending over $500 on flushing fluids, and less than an hour after refueling, what happens? My baby gets friggin’ totaled.

Let freedom ring.

I did get a little work-related financial pick-me-up recently that’s helped, but even so life is still a lot to deal with at this time. I am grateful to be alive, and grateful my dog wasn’t with me at the time of my accident. It all could be a lot worse. I am truly blessed, and if there’s any time for me to be able to deal with these crises, it is now. I have truly grown, and I know that’s what this is, it’s a season of growth, trials and pain. It’s toughening me to be able to take on more. I’m more resilient than I think I am.

Someone told me once years ago I’m like a cobra. I looked at them funny, not quite understanding that comparison. They went on to suggest, I appear harmless upon first impression. I’m young and unassuming, gracefully and quietly sitting small there in the far corner of the board room consumed by a large chair that truly minimizes my size. Nobody notices me, as I intently study the room and take good notes. Then when the timing is right, I strike with a decisive and swift revelation or very valid concern, and command the attention of the entire room. The person went on to suggest I’m always methodical as to when I strike, and I almost always unleash a wealth of knowledge impossible to refute.

When I was told this, I was flattered. This disclosure made me for a moment feel formidable. I admire strength in women, and I’ve always desired to exude a sense of female bad-assery, but more often than not, I feel I fall quite a bit short of appearing tough. As I digested this revelation though, I started reminiscing. It wasn’t the first time someone had told me something like that. I thought back to other instances of me speaking up in large meetings and distinctly remember one meeting where after I spat out something knowledgeable, men in leadership tucked their chins. My boss and mentor at the time sat across the room and delightfully smirked, with an “I told you so” stare. She was someone who fought for me, who saw potential leadership in me, but everyone else who never got to know me saw me as nothing but small and insignificant. I don’t even remember what I said in that meeting, but I remember suddenly feeling like I accidentally commanded respect in a power filled room. At the time, I thought it was just luck. I never really thought about it as a cobra-like ability. I’ve never purposefully set out to put people in their place or demand a room’s attention. I just set out to do my job, but maybe that’s what the shocking part is. I’m small, blond, young looking, with a physically weak voice that upon first impression, few think could lead a team or pack a punch. My perceived fragile demeanor is something I’ve always viewed as a weakness. I loathe my voice, my small stature, and my natural inclination to be nice, but as I thought about it, maybe that’s my superpower. I definitively catch people on their heels when I blow up. Is my weak stature actually my strength?

Perhaps it’s a tool I unintentionally use to lure people to their demise. I can recall an instance in which someone attempted to capitalize on my perceived weakness, niceness and agreeability to advance their personal agenda. I was on a conference call, and with all the emergencies that popped up that day, I was the only one representing the organization I work for on the call. The project we were discussing was in an awful place, and on the call, the third party we were working with tried to take advantage of me being alone on the call and attempted to get me to agree to something that would mean we breached our side of the contract. It was their last-ditch effort to get out of finishing the project. They severely under scoped the project and were trying to get rid of it, by pressuring me into agreeing to a lie. I became enraged, standing on the side of truth. This third party completely messed up and I rose up, outraged, not agreeing to their lie and struck it down to defend my work and my team. People in the offices next to me heard me through the walls, as the cobra in me let loose. It shocked everyone within earshot.

I find my knack for catching people on their heels is not just prevalent at work. I’ve seen it manifest in areas of physicality too. One place it’s hilariously displayed itself is at the driving range. Full disclosure, I don’t golf, but going to Top Golf and hitting the ball as hard as possible is just fun, so I do that. I’ve never taken lessons, don’t have any prior golfing experience, but I grew up playing softball, so arguably I have good eye-hand coordination and know how to hit things with a stick. I have a natural back swing, and a lot of strength in my core and lower body from riding. The distance with which I can drive the ball shocks even me sometimes. It turns heads, especially men’s heads as they elbow their friends nearby. I’m 5’2” and 120lbs and can drive the ball further than they can.

People don’t often see this side of me. Only those that truly know me have the privilege of knowing the “cobra.” Truth be told, I’m a peace keeper. I largely avoid conflict. Sometimes I can get nervous or emotional, and I don’t like to embarrass people or make a scene or waste my energy on trivial stupidity. It’s when I see mistakes or poor decisions edging out truth that I spring into action to voice my concerns. It’s when I’m physically backed into a corner, that I let fly punches or kicks. Honestly, being backed into a corner, instincts take over. It comes from working with horses for so long. When you own a horse, who’s gone so far as to pin you with force against a wall, you learn a few physical tricks to demand the respect back. A 1200lb animal can be a danger to everyone around it if it is not taught to respect you. Sometimes respect comes from a stud chain clanked with force across the nose or sometimes it’s a swift hard kick to the stomach—whatever it takes to put a 1200lb animal in line when he’s mis-behaving.

Even having dealt with the very physical nature of riding gone wrong, life can still be scary. As mentioned previously, life recently gained me a situation that was arguably terrifying. I was discussing with one of my co-workers a little about it. We were joking about worst case scenario and the plausibility of any person getting past my newly installed security measures and breaking into my home. My co-worker looks at me and smiles slyly. I’ve been working alongside this man for years. He knows me pretty well and says, “Amy, I don’t want to know what would happen to any person that breaks into your house. I think you’d do just fine.”

Honestly, I’m not sure. The cobra manifests organically. I never set out to strike, but corner me and do me wrong, maybe when instincts kick in I could pose a danger, especially with a weapon I could swing.

Happy 4^th of July! 😉