I don’t usually post much of my doctoral work. Most of it stays tucked away in papers, discussion threads, or quiet reflections between deadlines. But now and then, something comes along that hits a little deeper. This is the story of the “road back to me”.
This was one of those moments.
The Assignment
The assignment asked us to reflect on our personal growth through the lens of a developmental theory—specifically, how we’ve changed from our early college days to now. It was academic in nature, sure, but as I started writing, I realized it was also personal—really personal—and maybe too good not to explore out in the open.
So this post is a little longer than usual. It’s not polished like a motivational quote or snappy like a podcast teaser. It’s real. It’s vulnerable. It’s a story about quitting and coming back, doubt and belief, growth and all the messiness that comes with it.
And maybe—just maybe—it’ll resonate with someone else out there who’s trying to figure out if it’s too late, if it’s worth starting over, or if anyone else has ever felt the same way.
Because I have, and here’s what I’ve learned.
The Beginning
Before we start the road back, we have to start at the beginning. I started college in 1992, fresh out of high school and full of potential. I had no clue what I was doing. I was good with communication. I loved big ideas, critical thinking, and theory. But math and science? Not my thing. And I didn’t have anyone looking over my shoulder, making sure I was keeping up. Community college was looser than a traditional four-year school. Fewer systems. Less pressure. More freedom to mess up…and I did.
When things got hard, I didn’t lean in. I disappeared. Skipped class. Dropped out. I didn’t know how to sit with frustration or push through it. My response to discomfort was avoidance. I wore independence like a badge. No one else was paying for my classes. If I failed, it was on me. I didn’t want help. I didn’t trust it. That may sound bold or confident, but looking back, it was isolation. I wasn’t growing. I was just getting by.
Relationships?
I had a few close relationships—my family, a few best friends, and a girlfriend—but every other connection outside of those was surface level. I was friendly with everyone, but rarely vulnerable with anyone. I connected easily, but not deeply. I could blend in with any group. I was in band, played volleyball, liked both country and rock music. I was everyone’s friend, but no one’s “person.” That kind of flexibility is useful, but it’s lonely when you’re trying to figure out who you are.
My reason for going to college wasn’t rooted in learning or professional direction. It was personal. I wanted to be the first in my family to graduate. My older sister had gone to college but didn’t finish, and for me, finishing became the goal. Not to explore a passion or build a career. Just to finish. Just to prove I could.
The Turning Point
In 2010, almost two decades after walking away, I went back to finish what I started. Mainly because we just had my daughters and I wanted more for them to see. I returned to community college and earned my Associate’s degree. That milestone was more than just a credential—it was a reset. I proved to myself that I could finish. In 2013, I earned my undergraduate degree. I did it because I wanted to be eligible to coach volleyball at the college level. This time, the purpose wasn’t just about proving something. It was about unlocking an opportunity that mattered to me. That goal—to coach, to teach, to lead—gave me a reason to show up, to follow through, to keep going.
That momentum carried me directly into graduate school. I started right away and earned my Master’s in Sport Psychology in 2015. It felt like everything was starting to click. A few years later, I went back again, this time for a second Master’s in Learning Technologies and Media Systems, which I completed in 2021. And in 2024, I began pursuing my Doctorate in Health Sciences, which I’m currently still working on. It’s been a long road, but each step has been intentional and layered with experience.
The Return
When I returned for graduate studies the first time, everything had changed. I was married, a dad, coaching, working, and living a whole different life. I still had fear of failure. Still struggled with imposter syndrome. But now, I started things even when I was scared. I built routines. I meditated twice a day. I walked away when my brain got cloudy and came back clearer. I stopped pretending I didn’t need help. I asked questions. I listened to people smarter than me. I learned to collaborate. COVID pulled me back into old habits of doing it all alone, but I’ve been working to undo that, bit by bit.
A Note About Relationships
My relationships became smaller, but deeper. My wife. My kids. My team. That’s my tribe. I still worry about building new deep connections. I worry that time will be wasted. That life will move on, and those relationships won’t last. But I’m learning that even short-lived connections can have lasting meaning. I still sit in the middle—politically, socially, personally. But now I’m okay with that. I don’t need a label to feel rooted. My identity is built on the people around me and the work I do. I’ve stopped trying to fit in and started trying to show up.
And my purpose? It used to be about pride. I wanted to be “Dr. Mickle.” That title meant something. But now, it’s about impact. I want to be good—really good—at what I do. I want to help people. I want to leave the field better than I found it. The vanity’s still there sometimes, but I try to keep it in check.
The Road Ahead. The Road Back to Me.
I’ve come a long way. And I’ve still got a long way to go.
This journey has been anything but smooth. I’ve quit. More than once. I’ve sat in silence, overwhelmed and ashamed, wondering if I had what it takes. I’ve stared at the ceiling at two in the morning convinced I was behind, not good enough, not cut out for it. I’ve felt like a failure—too old, too late, too far off the path.
But I came back. Again and again.
I’ve restarted when it would’ve been easier to stay down. I’ve rebuilt after falling apart. And I’ve kept showing up, even on the days I didn’t believe in myself. That’s what this journey has really been about. Not perfection. Not titles. Not finishing in some picture-perfect way.
It’s been about finding a way to keep going.
And I haven’t done that alone. I’ve had the incredible support of my wife, my kids, my parents, and my family—who have believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. And I’ve been pushed, challenged, and lifted by amazing friends like Donnie, Pete, Brian, BJ, Jen, and Brett, whose belief in me never wavered, even when mine did.
The Take Home Message for the Road Back to Me
So if you’re out there feeling stuck, behind, or like it’s too late to become the version of yourself you want to be—hear this: it’s not too late. You’re not too far gone. And you don’t have to get it all right the first time.
Just take the next step. Even if you have to take it scared.
That’s what I did. And that’s what I’ll keep doing. The road back to me never ends.
