Sitting outside the courthouse waiting to go in to finalize my divorce, Tom Petty's "Yer so bad" came on the radio, bringing a small smile to my face as I listened to the words while I screwed up my courage. With the last strains of the song playing, I squared my shoulders and prepared for my day in court.
     A divorce is never easy. It's harder if you are 21 years old and escaping an abusive husband. Worse still is standing up in a room full of strangers and forced to speak words you never wanted to share, to justify the ending of a marriage that had lasted less than three years. Mercifully, my soon to be ex-husband was not there, and after only a brief consultation, the judge granted me my freedom.
     Walking away from th...

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