Falling Into the Cracks

While in college (this was the late 1980's early 1990's)(it is rather difficult to remember exactly), I was attempting to major in English and get a certificate in communications. For someone (meaning myself) with no real interest in anything (although I did (and still do) love video games, tv, movies, sci-fi), a sufferer of depression, low self esteem, and a personality disorder, college academics wasn't going well.

At this point, I decided to give up on communications and major in, of all things, law. Actually, just joking. I decided to become a business major. This was the last thing I ever thought I would major in considering I had long hair, a problem with authority, and a desire to "buck" the system. Nevertheless, that's what I did. Not long after beginning my new major in business, I was in one of my business classes and the professor was going over what would be required for her class. One of the things that we would have to do is a presentation in front of the rest of the class. So much for being a business major. Although later on I would get "bitten" by the acting bug, I wasn't at that stage at this point. Public speaking was not an option for me.

After the business major, I started thinking that computers were probably the way to go. So I changed my major to Computer Information Systems. I was still required to take some business courses but not the one involving public speaking. I felt safe, relatively speaking, of course. A few years later on, I would find out after an aptitude test that I do have the aptitude of a computer programmer. However, at this time in my life my mind was undergoing some kind of synaptic chaos, would be the best I could describe it, and I had difficulty absorbing information. It was almost as if something was literally "blocking" my mind from learning the material.

I was also continuing to get help from my therapist and psychiatrist and even the college psychiatrist. I don't want to sound ungrateful to them but I often have to ask myself, "What help did they provide?" I was still not making any progress and still had no clear objective or goals. Basically, I felt lonely, depressed, suicidal (many times), had suicidal idealization, hoped that God would let me die in my sleep, feelings of all of this is too much to handle, etc. All I really was hoping for was a girlfriend. I wanted to be loved. That was my answer to all my problems. If I could find a girlfriend I would then have the strength and inspiration to carry on. I would feel "worth" something. I admit, at times, I also wanted to have a girlfriend so I could get laid. However, I knew I wasn't the "love-em-and-leave-em" type; I am just too sensitive.

The core of my desire for a girlfriend was loneliness; it would have been nice to have someone to go out with on a Saturday night. Just a little romance would have been really nice to have. Even by the age I was at this time (early 20's) I hadn't ever had a girlfriend; not to say I didn't try. I guess the long hair (albeit kept well groomed) and glasses were a turn off. I didn't have my first girlfriend till I was 24 and that was after I gave up on college (and also had gotten rid of the glasses for contacts coincidentally). One of the main reasons I went to college was to meet girls. I couldn't even do that right.

It wasn't until many years later on that I started feeling that my problems were rather over-looked; that I had "fallen into the cracks" and wasn't getting the proper help I needed. At the time of my college struggles, I thought that there wasn't any more that anyone could do for me and this was as good as it gets. I made it clear to the people that were supposed to be helping me how I was doing in school, how I was feeling, etc. I suppose they just wrote it down and made a "note" of it. With no one assisting me to finish college or providing me with some kind of vocational training, I assumed that if I was to expect any success, it was going to have to come from me. Trouble is, I have no "drive", I do not know how to get "drive", or where I would even begin looking for "drive", or ambition, or confidence, or organization, or that feeling of "giving a damn about one's life instead of wishing you could just be watching television (and/or movies; I'm not picky) or playing video games and somehow make a lot of money doing that and if you can't, then you would rather not be alive anymore".

In case anyone out there is wondering, I do realize that these feelings sound disturbing and not "normal". I remember, not too long ago, I called a crisis hotline to "vent" some of these troublesome feelings and all the volunteer could really say is that these feelings are not normal for a 35 year old and that there are places that I can go to where I can get help. I thought to myself: D'uh! No sh*t Sherlock, why do you think I am calling a crisis hotline anyway? To get the date and time? Of course I know the feelings I have are not normal. I don't mean to be too harsh on someone (and these were just thoughts that occurred to me; I never said it to the actual person) but don't you hate it sometimes when someone just states the completely obvious? I mean, how does that help me, anyway? I have been in therapy and had a psychiatrist since I was 15 years old, I have been hospitalized for trying to hurt myself and for having feelings of wanting to hurt myself; of course I know there are places I can go to where I can get help. Unless this person was referring to some magical, mystical place where they wave the magical wand and everyone's problems are solved and everyone is eternally happy (like an insane asylum, for instance); other than that, then I have heard of every kind of place I can go to for help. The problem is, I never find the help I really need. It is due to my endless problem of always falling into the cracks. Although quite some time has past and I have changed, these feelings are still a part of me.

They always will be.

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Introduction: Part 2 (I know, not the most original title)

So, let's see, when I left off I was in college and now an English major.

That didn't work out for too long, and my idea of getting a certificate in communications wasn't working out so good either. I was losing interest in it. I tend to lose interest in things and move on to something else. Usually I start a project and then fail to finish it, which apparently has been a pattern my whole life. The amazing part, and what I fail to understand, is that I was under the care of a therapist and psychiatrist. I was on an anti-depressant (I can't remember which one I was on exactly, but during the course of my life I have been on all of them from A to Zoloft). I would tell them how I feel and how I was doing. My therapist and psychiatrist knew all my deepest, darkest secrets. I hid nothing from them, i.e. all my doubts about college, what I want to do with my life (which, by the way, is still a mystery to me at age 36 (scary, huh?))

Of course my therapist and I spent more time together then I did with my psychiatrist, but most of my psychiatrists were very nice and liked to talk a little with me (only one psychiatrist I had as an out-patient was a complete a**hole. I think she needed a psychiatrist, I think her pHd probably stood for Pretty Horrible Doctor). So what remains a mystery to me is, could there have been more they could have, or should have, done to help me in achieving anything? That's what I wonder. I know I couldn't do it on my own. At the rate I was going I didn't know where I was going to end up. Living in a hospital being taken care of for the rest of my life? Living at home with my parents and working in a dismal, low paying retail job (no offense to anyone who works in retail, but I have worked in retail and I find it boring and low paying)? Or worse yet, I might just take my own life. I tried not to think about it or worry about it, but I wasn't succeeding in achieving anything I set out to do, I wasn't gaining any ground. This alone should have been a red flag for the mental health professionals that were supposed to be helping me. Well, all I guess I can say is: who knows? Eventually, I had to take matters into my own hands (and I will get into that in more detail later on)(don't worry it's nothing really really bad, it's actually kind of cool).

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Introduction

So here I am.

I am new to weblogging (more commonly known as blogging).

Apparently, I am finding out, blogs have been around for a number of years now and I wasn't even aware of it. I am rather surprised but only because I consider myself very web savvy. I taught myself html, some web design and web development. Eventually I decided to go for more formalized training at a two year college in my home state of New Jersey but didn't complete the program (I'll get more into that later on). I did complete a Web Development crash course at Fairleigh-Dickinson University in Madison, NJ.

Just want to also give a warning to any potential readers that I do have a tendency to ramble on about topics, so I hope you can bear with me. I also want to let others know that my writings here will be in its raw form, that I do not consider myself a writer and that I write as I feel the urge to expel any thoughts or feelings that I need to express. If I say something that perhaps makes me come off as an idiot or perhaps doesn't make sense to you as a reader, please forgive me and realize that I am just writing it as I feel. I will try my best to avoid profanity as much as possible.

In regards to who I am, I would prefer to remain anonymous. What I can tell you is that I am a male, 36 years old, I suffer from major depression (you might see why now I would like to remain anonymous) and other emotional difficulties, and I live in the United States. I used to live in New Jersey (where I grew up) but have since moved to another part of the country. I enjoy working with computers and pretty much all of what I know about them, is self taught. I never was able to finish college after I completed high school.

High school was rough. It wasn't rough becuase it was in a bad part of New Jersey. On the contrary, it was in a typical suburban area. What made high school rather challenging was because a bunch of other kids attending school didn't seem to like me very much. Perhaps they were jealous of me (I am 6ft blond hair and blue eyes) or perhaps they were just idiots and a**holes. I tend to believe it is a little of both. While attending school I also had friends, not a lot, but I had some friends. Some I am still friends with and some I didn't stay in touch with. I also had a dream, and that dream was to get the Hell out of high school and away from the a**holes as fast as I could. Other than that, not much else. Well, to be honest I wanted to perhaps get into radio or television. I loved music and had/have favorite tv shows. As far as my favorite subjects in school, I guess I would have to say: Lunch and going home. Around the age of 15 I started developing depression (and after all why not? Everyone needs a hobby) (By the way, I also have a strange sense of humor so feel free to laugh at my bizarre comments (or don't laugh because how will I know, you are reading this on the Internet; laugh for your own benefit, you silly))

Having a natural pre-disposition to depression (a close family member suffers from it too) and a personality disorder (most likely borderline personality disorder), and then on top of all that throw in having to deal with the typical pressures you face during adolescence (i.e. dealing with the idiot a**holes (if someone reading this was an idiot a**hole in school growing up, no offense but you really needed to get your head examined; I mean why would you want to make someone feel horrible everyday? I don't get it, never did and never will.)), you get a recipe for disaster. I made it, though. The idiot a**holes didn't stop me. I graduated high school, woo hoo! That was 1987 (remember I am 36 years old).

I decided to go to a small private 4 year college about an hours ride from my home town. It was a nice school, rather old but slowly modernized as the years went by. I made some friends with a lot of people there. Still had no real clue what I wanted to do, except maybe, perhaps do something in radio or television. Since Communications was not a major at that time at the school, I decided to major in Sociology and get a certificate in Communications. After hearing the news in Sociology class one day that we are expected to complete a 30 page research paper, I was like I can't do THAT. I thought, "How the Hell am I going to do that?" I decided to talk over my feelings with the professor.

The professor was a very nice woman who told me she would offer me some assistance, but what she didn't realize was that I needed her to do the whole thing for me! Not help me with it. I just knew inside that I did not have what it takes to do this paper. Worse yet, I didn't really want to do it. I didn't want to do anything. Why? I don't know. I attribute it to the fact that I have no real ambition. I do not have what is known as: drive or a passion for something. I just do not have it. I also lack some self confidence. With this in front of me, I realized that perhaps (just perhaps, mind you) Sociology might not be for me. So I did a change of majors to English. Needless to say for someone who does not do well or like doing papers, this was a BIG mistake. Might I also add, I have a lot of trouble concentrating so reading is something I tend to avoid as well. However, on the rare occasion I read, I do enjoy books and have read many novels by well known authors (some of my favorites are Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle). I have had my aptitude tested, and I scored above average in intelligence. Strange. I have heard that Einstein didn't do well in Math, but he must have at least enjoyed reading. Not that I am comparing myself to Einstein (never in a million years!) but I do consider myself a reasonably intelligent person, restricted by this rather annoying tendency.

To be continued...

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