I am a Retired Funeral Director
I am a Doctor, but not in Mental Health
I am a Doctor, but not in Mental Health
I spent 28 years helping people make funeral arrangements for their loved ones. I founded Putnam Funeral Home & Crematory in 1999, which I sold to another independent funeral home in 2021. The funeral home had locations in Kingsland, Marble Falls, Bertram, and Llano (closed in 2013).
I have thousands of very emotional experiences that I shared with people grieving a loss over the years. Each one of these families holds a special place in my heart.
Notable Experience: In the first part of my career, it was very common to have funerals for WWI veterans and people born in the 1800s. In my first few months, I was at Ft. Sam Houston National Cemetery in San Antonio, Texas. I stood in awe, looking over the thousands of graves within the walls of the cemetery and the history that was within my eye's view.
Within months of my retirement, I stood in the same cemetery in awe of hundreds of thousands of graves. I could no longer see the entire cemetery from one spot. These were the new graves of the WWII veterans who died during my career. I entered the funeral service with WWI veterans and left with only a few WWII survivors. It is very humbling to visualize the impact of a generation of people.
I am a Doctor, but not in Mental Health
I am a Doctor, but not in Mental Health
I am a Doctor, but not in Mental Health
I take pride in being a doctor, but I also carry a sense of sadness about the journey that led me here. My decision to become a doctor was shaped by feelings of shame and the educational trauma I experienced in my childhood.
Growing up in the 1970s and 1980s, I struggled as a student with an undiagnosed learning disorder. Sadly, I believe the situation has not improved much today. Back then, teachers, adults, and even family members often resorted to shame-based tactics to motivate learning. Phrases like "stupid," "lazy," and "not living up to your potential" were commonplace. I frequently heard discouraging statements such as, "you’re a failure," "you’ll dig ditches for the rest of your life," or "you’ll end up living in a shack if you don’t apply yourself." While I recognize that many individuals who followed different paths have found happiness and fulfillment in their lives, I still grapple with the voice of failure that echoes from my childhood and adolescence.
I initially pursued my education in a trade school for a career in the funeral industry, where I found success. However, the nagging feeling of inadequacy persisted. I went on to earn a Bachelor’s degree in Business Administration, followed by an MBA, and eventually gained acceptance into a doctoral program. After five years of study and research, I earned a Ph.D. in Business Administration, specializing in Organizational Leadership. My focus is on fostering positive relationships within organizations, emphasizing support and collaboration rather than coercion and pressure. Later, I also earned a Master’s degree in Marriage and Family Therapy.
It wasn’t until my forties, during my Ph.D. dissertation, that I discovered I am dyslexic. I learned that my learning style differed significantly from that of my peers, and as a trauma-informed therapist, I came to understand that the educational system was not designed for individuals like me—those who make up about twenty percent of the population. Unfortunately, I believe the challenges have only intensified for students today.
As a therapist, I guide individuals in uncovering and healing the behaviors rooted in their educational trauma, empowering them to reclaim their self-worth and embrace their unique learning journeys. Additionally, I work with children and adolescents to build educational resilience and self-esteem in a system that often overlooks their needs, helping them navigate their challenges with confidence and strength.