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Thursday, May 03, 2007

Sometimes I feel like it is just way too easy being me. Aren't things supposed to be harder than this?

I say this after knocking out a scholarship application that required me to write a two-page paper describing a social need or condition that I've recognized and how I've acted upon it. I wrote about violence against women. Easy as pie. And who could turn down a scholarship application from someone who talked about how she's working against domestic violence? It seems like a gimmee, really.

Then it occurred to me that maybe this is what it's like to be an adult. I have worked and worked to learn things and get good at them. It always seemed as though that would be a lifelong struggle. That I'd never get to the point where I was no longer the one asking all the questions, but rather the person being asked.

And I realized that I know more than I give myself credit for. I feel like I'm a late bloomer, at 30 just now going to grad school and fixating upon a career that I love, and it's hard, because I feel too like I'm just starting out. But I realize that my previous years in domestic violence weren't just a gateway into a good graduate program. They were foundations of experience upon which I can build.

In my end-of-the-year evaluation, my supervisor raved about my professionalism, and I was confused, until it dawned on me that with my age has come wisdom. I know what I want to do, and how I need to do it. Rock on.

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