You all know I have a Masters Degree, since that is required for me to get my license. What you may not all know is that I was in my 50s before that degree was conferred. I would be a liar if I said I knew from the age of 5 that I wanted to be a counselor. I started my freshman year of college with only very vague goals, and that is surely part of why it took me so long to complete even my Bachelor’s degree. Any excuse to drop out and I took it, until I didn’t.
I was 32 years old when I got my Bachelor of Arts Degree, and a divorce. Once I found a counselor I really liked (to process the divorce), I started thinking how much I would like to go into that same field. Then I quickly started un-thinking that, because I could not see my way clear to how I would ever pay tuition while I raised my child. I didn’t even tell anyone my goal; I just fumbled along the best I could with the generalized degree I had, working at jobs I didn’t much like but that I was pretty good at. There was also the one job I did like, self-employed, performing personalized singing telegrams. It required my creative side, which was what I loved about it.
Even after my son was fully grown, I would take stabs at figuring out how to finance graduate school, but I kept looking in the wrong places. It is especially curious that I never darkened the door of a college Financial Aid office. Now wouldn’t that seem like a logical place to go?
My mistake was simple: I thought I should be able to figure it out for myself, so I did very little asking for advice, even from experts. Blaming myself for not knowing what I had not been told, I just kept fumbling along without that degree. After enough years passed, I decided it just wasn’t in the stars. One favorite excuse? I won’t have enough working years left to justify the investment.
Then an opportunity pretty much smacked me in the face. I took it, started classes, and learned by Week 2 how most of my fellow students were funded: They had jobs in social service fields, with companies that paid for graduate school as an inducement. These were all companies I had been perfectly well qualified to work for; it just had never occurred to me to even try.
The point of this vignette is simple: Don’t follow my example. Had I swallowed my pride just the teensy amount it would take to ask questions, I would have either gotten into graduate school sooner or made an informed and rational decision to be content with the formal education I already had.
I doubt I would have started graduate school the minute the ink on my divorce papers was dry. Working full time while attending classes part time would mean I would miss out on too much of my child’s growing up. The years running the singing telegram company gave me plenty of latitude to be a more involved parent, for which I will always be grateful. But it would have been nice to have a plan for following a new career path when the time was right.
The short version of all this? Ask around. A lot. And read. And brainstorm, accepting even the worst ideas as ideas that may lead to better ones. There is no shame in not knowing, only in not bothering to learn. Whatever your age, you still have all the years ahead of you to change your path or just tweak the one you are on, to evaluate and re-evaluate your direction in life. The embarrassment of asking for advice and information pales next to the frustration of continuously thinking “If only.”