Ch-ch-changes

I suck at change. I really do. I hate changes with a fiery passion - especially when I know they are coming. I'd rather be blindsided and cope on the fly then know my world's about to turn upside down. I like order, structure and predictability, preferably nicely wrapped with a red bow on top.

So naturally the last year of my life has been chock full with all kinds of major changes. I changed jobs - twice. Relationships ended and new ones began. I moved three times. I was diagnosed with Celiac's. I got a dog. Friendship came and went. And.....I started my master's degree.

A Masters of Science in Clinical Mental Health Counseling. Specialty areas - trauma recovery, juvenile justice, and the mental health of female offenders and victims. Doesn't that sound impressive?

Of course impressive sounding degrees are also backed by impressive amounts of work. Mine is especially unconventional in the sense that it requires 60 hours of coursework. Average amount for a typical master's? Between 36-48.


This is just the beginning. Hold on to your hats kids...


I also go to school in Texas. I live in Kansas. My commute is just over four hours one way, and I go once a week for two days. This summer I went twice a week. That's sixteen hours in the car a week for ten weeks.

Whenever you're done gasping/laughing/shaking your head - hear this: quality education and quality relationships are hard to find. And while I can have both, I don't planning on sacrificing either.

Let me brag on my program for a few sentences. The University of North Texas Counseling Program was ranked #1 in Texas in 2010 and #12 in the nation. They are the oldest accredited counseling program in the country, and boast the most prestigous play therapy program in the nation. After the 9/11 tragedy, play therapists were flown from Denton up to New York City to work with the children who had lost parents in the attack. A counseling degree from UNT opens up doors all over the country. It's just that good.

My quality relationships? I've had the same core group of friends for over a decade. My home team. I've known all of them at least eleven years, some of them as long as seventeen years. We have all been there for each other through life events that just don't recreate themselves - births, deaths, breakups, weddings, engagements, graduations, jobs, and everything life has thrown at us over time. These are bonds you don't make with someone in a year or two, and friendships that will last a lifetime. My junior high friends are still the girls who will stand by me at my wedding someday, the guys who have demonstrated what Godly men look like and set the standard for the type of guy I look for. These are the relationships that just don't happen twice.

I've never doubted my ability to live anywhere else, I honestly just don't want to right now. And every time (believe me there are many) I start drowning in school-induced stress, or am feeling the intense emotional result of going to counseling twice a week all summer long, I am reminded of what a good decision this is for me to be around the people that can keep me grounded. My first teary phone calls about twenty page papers are always to someone on my home team roster, and without fail they answer with the kind of support they know I need.

So Graduate School Life Lesson #1: I can't expect people to be supportive or even understanding of my decision to commute. I am often reminded of the length of the drive or the price of gas by people that learn about my situation and feel the need to share such privileged knowledge. I have been called insane exactly seven times that I can remember (the brilliant irony being that my degree actually makes me more qualified to be the one determining who is or isn't insane. Just saying). But I still go to school. And I still have my friends.

We all lead very different lives. Each one mixes different priorities, responsibilities, goals, dreams, ambitions, and choices that come together make the unique existence that is a life. When my feelings have been hurt by the quick reaction of an aquaintance to the sacrifices I make to maintain a life in my hometown, I have had to learn to step back and realize that at the root of every response is a set of priorities that is not my own.

One person's approval of my commute doesn't determine how much I love what I study or what I view as important. Period. The knowledge that I am free to live my life in accordance with my priorities comes an abundance of confidence. The kind of confidence that gives an internal 'five hour energy' shot at the end of a long, tiring week. No fallible, human approval needed.

Would unanimous support with my scholastic choices be nice? Absolutely. Will I finish my degree without it?

Bring it on.