I got my first job when I was 17; dishwashing at a local restaurant. My friend was working there already and he suggested I apply and he put in a good word for me. I worked there three months. Anyways over the course of the next two years I had about 15 different jobs, none lasting more than three months until I got sick at age 19.
I was put in my first psyche ward at age 19. It was a bit of a surprise. I was seeing a therapist before that for several months but she had no clue how messed up I really was. I don’t blame her, I acted normal and just went in each week and talked like nothing was wrong with me.
But then the head psychiatrist at the clinic called a meeting with me, my therapist, my parents and him. And after talking for about 20 minutes he told my parents that I needed to be put in a psyche ward immediately. I remember my therapist who was this really, nice, cute 28 year old woman cried because she had no idea how sick I really was. I don’t blame her at all, I’m sure many of us act normal in front of doctors or therapists and no one can tell what’s really going on with us.
My parents drove me to the ward about a hundred miles away and checked me in. I remember sitting on the bed in my room and thinking that I had now crossed a line and I could never go back.
And I wasn’t psychotic at the time but in three days I sure was and that was the beginning of my 39 years with paranoid schizophrenia. But it was funny because from there I went directly to Soteria House in downtown San Jose, Ca. My parents got me in.
I remember when I arrived there were a few other young people there and when I got inside one guy stuck out his hand to shake hands and smiled and welcomed me there and other residents were looking at me curiously. My first impression was that it was going to be like some fun summer camp. That feeling lasted until the next morning when my suffering started in earnest and continued non-stop for the next 2 1/2 years.
I was there about 4 days and I had walked downtown a couple of days already and on the fourth day I just did what came naturally to me and I went looking for a job. No one told me to do it. But no one told me not to do it. My dad instilled in me a pretty good work ethic and that popped up and I got up one morning on my own and walked up and down the busy street and put in applications at about 7 or 8 different businesses.
And about two days later a popular donut shop and a Salvation Army store called me in for an interview and then they both offered me jobs. I thought about it and chose the donut shop; I don’t remember why I chose it over the Salvation Army. So I started working.
It wasn’t that bad though I was really screwed up mentally. But when my parents found out about my job they told me to quit. They told me I didn’t have to work, just to concentrate on getting better. They thought it was really funny though that even though I was sick that my instincts and my natural work ethic had made me get a job when I was just diagnosed with schizophrenia. So after three days I quit.
Also it was kind of funny that my boss didn’t want to pay me for three days, he just gave me two dozen free donuts, lol, instead of money! It didn’t bother me and I took the donuts to my new home and shared with everybody. What pissed me off was that the damn counselors ate most of them.
And various stuff happened and now here I am at age 58 still working and living in a nice apartment. Life is kind of funny that way.