At only 31, I’ve already had a huge number of totally divergent careers paths. I’ve worked in support of the arts, fixed cars, poured drinks, written copy, sold things, designed logos, planned events and managed innumerable employees and facilities.
I’m that person that’s always hungry, never satisfied. Too often I’ve allowed my job to take over my life in pursuit of total competence as well as the imaginary A+ and validation that I’ll gain if I can just be that one completely indispensable employee and colleague.
I know now that the unhealthy and obsessive part of this stems primarily from insecurity over not having a post-secondary education.
Somewhere along the line I told myself that if I work my ass off and become invaluable, than that will negate the feelings of failure that I have about not attending university.
I’ve succeeded a couple times in obtaining that indispensability, but it’s always come at a great cost to myself and never seems to follow through on it’s end of the deal; that A+ that I now know doesn’t really exist.

I made some poor decisions as a rebellious angst-filled teen that barred my potential entry to university via high school, not that I was at all interested.
University was for suck ups and rich kids.
University was advanced fingernail chewing and remedial basket weaving.
University isn’t everything; lots of people have awesome lives without it you know.
University was a colossal waste of time and money that my family simply didn’t have.
I already knew how to think, thank you very much. I didn’t need some $50,000 philosophy lesson that wouldn’t even get me a job.

I know, I KNOW. I cringe at my glaringly naïve declarations now as well. Hindsight also shows me that many of those pronouncements were not my actual opinions at all, but ideas that I was taught. Armour provided by various adults who didn’t think I could possibly amount to anything (10th grade English teacher, I’m looking at you) to protect me from the feelings of inadequacy to come.

At 20 years old, I started to realize that performing with my band in dingy Olympia basements wasn’t going to cut it in terms of a life path. My friends and roommates were all attending Evergreen State College and paying for rent and bass amps with scholarships and student loan money.
I paid mine with wages from my telemarketing job.

I shrunk in shame when asked what my major was and finally decided to attend a vocational certificate program at my local community college. You know, the kind of college that actually gets you a decent paying, health-care providing, blue-collar job.

Less than a year after finishing an Automotive Repair training program, the point of no return came in the acquisition of a crushingly large medical debt.

At the time, I had a new job in an auto parts store. Because I was still a probationary employee, I was not yet covered under the company health insurance plan. The $7.00 I earned per hour found me unable to pay even a quarter of the minimum required for my hospital bills after the costs of my very basic life expenses.
Somehow, my income was declared high enough to be disqualified for charity care and my debt went into delinquency.
I figured that as long as I could convince potential landlords that my bad credit was not due to financial negligence, I’d be ok.
It took me a little while to realize that with a massive delinquent debt my creditworthiness was ruined and the option of obtaining a student loan to attend University disappeared. This, of course, came right as I started to realize that I wanted more than a future selling piston rings and engine degreaser.

So I hopped from job to job searching for a boss who would tell me what to do with my life. I found many happy to give me direction, but none who offered fulfillment. Surprise!

I found one of those bosses when I got a job in the production and assembly of beautiful hand-made artist portfolios. I loved the product and that it was work in the arts. I loved that the building was beautiful with exposed brick and big windows. It was airy and clean and close to my home.
The owner taught me to use quark and I spent personal time on library computers looking up tutorials so that I could impress him with my quick mastery of a clunky program.
The company was a small one, and because I spent much of my time dealing directly with the owner I was able to work hard, kiss ass, and over the course of a year go from hired assembler to production facility manager and graphic design assistant.
As often happens in work-up-from-the-bottom situations with insecure people afraid to speak out, my job title and responsibilities changed, but my pay didn’t. I was “laid off” from that job two weeks after refusing to make a 5-year commitment to a job that paid less than 25k a year.

I tell you all this history, not to make public excuses, but to attempt a sort of personal catharsis. I’ve had some bad luck in life, true, but many of the crappy situations I was dealt were made much, MUCH worse with my own subsequent mishandling.

Over a decade later, my debts are nearly paid off, my credit score grows less embarrassing every couple of months and most importantly, my attitude is changed. I’ve learned to recognize and value my skills, my willingness to learn, and to appreciate my quest for the A+ for what it is; a fucking awesome work ethic.
I’ve wanted to attend school for a long time and now, I finally have the means to do so. I even know what I’d like to study. But one of the many things my experiences have taught me through all this is that everything comes at a cost.
What would be the cost of my going back to school?

The Mister and I are newlyweds. We have no plans on having children in the immediate, but it is something that has been discussed as a possibility for the future.
If I started school a year from now, I would be 36 or 37 at graduation, 34 if I did a short program.

Does this mean I have to choose between learning the skills for a fulfilling career and the option of parenthood?

Is it too late to start over?