Hmmm. How can I put this so I don’t sound like I’m bragging? I was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia in 1980 when I was 19. I spent the next 2 1/2 years in hospitals and a group homes. During that time I suffered immensely. But in 1983 I wernt back to work and I’ve worked pretty much for the last 33 years.
It is not the fact that I worked for so long despite having paranoid schizophrenia, one of the top ten disabling disease in the world, that makes me feel successful, it’s the fact that being the person I am which makes it a miracle.
I’m the guy who had only three friends in four years of high school. The guy who couldn’t say three words to any girl in high school. The guy who couldn’t talk to anyone but my friends. The guy who’s friends ganged up on him and merissilessly and sadistically picked him apart verbally while knowing me good enough to know how much they hurt me and egged on the bully who lived across the street to pick on me verbally and physically.
The odds have been against me my whole life. I am not pitying myself, I am stating facts. I have to believe that I am special to survive. I have to believe I’m the underdog in this world to survive it. I’m good looking now, but in the first 40 years of my life I believed I was ugly and there was always plenty of people who jumped at the opportunity to feed into that belief and make me feel worse.
I’ve always been the weird guy, the outsider, the guy on the outside looking in. The low man in the pecking order. This is what makes my relative success a miracle. To me, my accomplishments are impossible and unbelievable and almost laughable because they are so unlikely.
The anger about being treated so badly as a kid has finally surfaced. The people who treated me badly are the assholes, not me. I am ashamed of treating a couple of my poor classmates poorly in school. I sincerely regret that. At age twenty, I made a vow to never pick on anyone again in unless they start it. But I will still give them the benefit of the doubt and try to solve the problem peaceful y.
I’m 55 now. I have put up with other people enough for years and now I just want to settle down and forget about playing into other people’s bulls^hit and I just want to talk to women and get to know them and have conversations with the other males here and occasionally frighten them off. People like me, and I like them. It took me many years to get to this point, I paid my dues, now I will enjoy all the things I have missed out on. I had a cool childhood. I had my little adventures and my little criminal life. I hung out with cool people. Now it’s the time to smile at the cute staff members who are my age and make them smile.
I visited my moms grave today with my step-dad. We took turns paying our respects to my poor mom and saying what was in our hearts. I think that when a parent dies for most people that they regret the many times that they hurt their parents feelings or they feel bad that they didn’t get to tell their parents everything that they really wanted to when the parent was alive. At least that’s how I feel. So I can just honor my mom.
I drive in one of the most congested areas in California… Three days a week I drive for an hour of almost bumper to bumper traffic to go to work. I do my best at work and I drive for an hour to get home. My favorite past time is scaring the jerks who go out of there way to deliberately foul me up and confuse me or pick on me. It’s not my fault that the bullies are clueless and they stupidly make me mad and when I react they slink off with hurt feelings.