No, this is not a post about temperature.  It is about my problems with addiction, particularly to education.  It is not lost on me that my high school girlfriend dropped out, and I was probably thought to be not far behind.  I have painfully watched almost every minute on the school clock I was ever present for, and yes that is intentionally worded, as I was also a (class) skipper.

Somehow, someway, by some miracle, I made it through high school, and with pretty good grades too.  I was really an uninterested participant, and when my girlfriend dropped out, a big part I blame on me, school was kind of even more of a drag than it was before.  We were still together when I enrolled in college, only 60 miles from home too.  I gave up my dream of continuing to play ice hockey to be close to her.  She dumped me after two or three weeks for a guy a year behind me who had repainted his truck to look like a Tonka truck.  I was devastated, because I knew at 18 she was the one for me.  I did love her.  Her name was Karin, and she deserved far better than me.  I saw her once a few years later, but not since.  I lasted only a short time at school.  I received played enough to receive a varsity letter in soccer, a game I had never played before, and took with me a half a credit for gym.  I left mid-semester, defeated and lost.

But somehow, someway, I knew that I was not done, even though I still did not like school.  I weaseled my way into IUSB where I actually stayed a semester, and when your GPA sucked as bad as mine, was able to improve it quite a bit.  I imagine I was on academic probation, and it was not “secret,” but I had a good job, lots of friends, wonderful people to date, and no real direction.

It somewhat puzzles me that I decided to give up the high level social life of Williamsburg on the Lake in Mishawaka to transfer into Butler University where my dad was the Director of the Counseling Center.  It is a funny thing about how they treat men in divorce.  My dad had been my dad my entire life, but for the parts I remember, I hardly was able to know him.  My mom worked all the time, and I was left to “guide myself” which I was a pro at, especially if you consider failing and trouble being a pro.

So in 1981, two years after the immaculate ejection from high school, I found myself still technically a freshman at a school full of people I did not know.  It was a fresh start, so I joined a fraternity full of pretty great guys, most of whom are still friends, and dumped down our house GPA by needing to drop Chemistry so I would not fail it.    I passed the next semester, got initiated, got some traction, still hated classes, but busted my butt to get out in 1984.

Of course now I was a candidate for seminary in my early 20’s.  It required a 103 hour Masters degree.  But why not?  I was used to the self inflicting wounds, and plus I was certain women would love the outfit, fast cars, and flashy lifestyles priests represented.  In truth, I was surprised to find myself in this place.  Everyone around me appeared to think I was called, and the evidence of my work seemed to affirm that, but I always thought that some prestigious seminary ought to be able to weed out the lowly when they saw them.  Apparently not at Virginia.

In time I was ordained a deacon in June of 1989 and a priest in March of 1990.  I really was surprised, and actually did quite well at what I did.  So in time I thought I ought to be responsible and go back for more.  So yes, in the year 1995 sometime and I do not when exactly as I do not even hang these things in my office, I graduated with a doctoral degree, a DMin, rather than a PhD, by choice, just because history will tell you I am prone to poor choices.

It was all good.  I even started an MBA after that, but only finished half of it, and graduate credits expire if you do not use them.  Amanda of course often confers upon me the Third Degree, which I probably deserve, but as I always remind her, no one looks at the two of us and thinks I am the one with problems.

But all this is to say that I received an email from Indiana Wesleyan University today about ordering a cap and gown and hood, for in less than 90 days I will graduate with yet another degree in Clinical Mental Health (which I personally and desperately need) as well as a post-Master’s Addiction Certificate.

Now this all may sound impressive, but let me say I am a semester behind because I dropped a class to look at a PhD program mid-stream.  I decided to complete this, which I will on April 29th (my later Grandma Middleton’s birthday and she and my grandpa’s – also deceased- wedding anniversary), and I am out of my mind trying to decide what to do.

Obviously my modus operandi would be to enroll in a PhD program after this, which I would if I could find an accredited one to take me.  I have a great interest in clergy health, and clergy family health, as well as addiction and addictive behaviors.  Self-study on myself, perhaps, would indicate addiction to education and degrees that I probably do not need, but it would also be a conflict of interest.

So even though I am still a priest, I will be looking for something to do.  My wife will let me drop off and pick up Ben, and beyond that I probably am a candidate for her supervision.  But for the next two years, if I happen by some additional miracle from God to pass the licensure exam, I will need to see patients/clients and log supervised hours.  After that, I can take the second exam and consult and private practice in my field as I probably should.

All the time looking for something else to do.  Were you aware there are clocks in every classroom?  I figure I am now in 27th grade….and they move no faster.

Peace!

Tommy+