Once again, it’s the night before my graduation. These last two years have been fucking hard.
I went no contact with my parents.
I discovered the abuse I endured as a child.
I lived and left an abusive relationship.
I lost three family members.
I became a single dog mom to a puppy that came from an abusive situation and has a lot of needs.
I wrote a thesis while battling depression, panic attacks, and loneliness.
I lost a close friend and colleague unexpectedly.
I discovered what I’m fucking made of.
Through all the rotten, horrible moments, there were also amazing ones.
I became independent, living alone for the first time.
I get to live near my long distance best friend for the first time in ten years.
I became a bridesmaid.
I have become closer with my siblings.
I made amazing connections with my third graders.
I created a cheer program that quickly became the largest sport at the school.
I have begun to heal from my religious trauma.
I have made some of the most amazing teacher friends that have quickly become family.
I’m graduating with my fucking masters degree.
I remember a time when I was sitting at a table working at the ymca in Texas, when Christina asked me if I was going to go to graduate school. In the moment, I didn’t even know what graduate school was. I remember going home and googling it, discovering the different pathways one can take after the traditional four year bachelor degree route.
As scary as it is, I am excited to not be a student. I’m excited to discover new hobbies and experience relaxation.
As much as I miss Mary, I know she’s proud of me.
I’m proud of me too.
