The Graduate

When you graduate, people make you delicious chocolate almond cake. I would like to graduate more often.

Loyal readers, I am going to keep this somewhat short, and use lots of images because I totally beat you up with my excessive word counts post in and post out. Plus, I hear brief copy and big visuals are the way to go with blogs. Sort of like baby books for adults.

So, last night, I graduated as a Connecticut state certified sexual assault counselor. It felt really, really good and strange. At first, I found myself feeling introspective and almost teary. That certificate represents having been sucked into the vortex of this disgusting crime almost exactly four years ago, and being spit out into a life that I never imagined.

I haven’t graduated from anything in quite some time, but I think my dorky pose is universal.

But that’s the funny thing about life. All the worry and the planning and trying to out-think your future. And then one day, everything changes. I try so very hard to keep that in mind and embrace living for the moment and not think too far ahead in anything these days because I am never ever right about the outcome. Right now, I can conjure umpteen scenarios about what my first crisis call will be like when I am on-call for the Center. I just have to keep firm in my faith in myself. I know I can do this.

This is my sassy, "I did it! Go me!" pose. With annoying photo redeye. Grr.
This is my sassy, “I did it! Go me!” pose. With annoying photo redeye. Grr.

The best thing about my training was meeting such wonderful women and men in the anti-sexual violence movement. God bless the victims who shared their stories, the good people of the police department, the hospital emergency rooms, the state’s attorney office and my fellow volunteers-in-training and staff at the Rape Crisis Center. We are all in this together.

My fellow advocate and friend, Eleni. Here to serve YOU if you ever need us.

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