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Description
My Illness School

To tell you the story of my recovery. I'd have to go back and tell you how that for most of my life I wasn't even diagnosed. Growing up I was a typical kid. I had friends a decent family we got along just like any other family.
School on the other hand was a challenge. I would never admit that I hated school. I always thought that hating school was for the kids who did drugs and were troublemakers. Something that was not for me. I was a good kid in class. I was quiet and kept to myself. My teachers classified as a pleasure to have in class.
In my high school we had what they called the student of the month. Which was intended to be awarded for students with good grades. As well as behaving in class. I always thought that I never was awarded student of the month. As my grades were never good enough. If anything my grades were a sure sign that I didn't like school. It started early in elementary school. I felt normal or as normal for being a kid.
When it came to homework that’s when I became a different person. I clearly remember what seemed to be like my first homework. It was to simply copy out of the dictionary of a word we were given. As the word of the day. This seemed very easy but back then I hated doing it. My mom referred to it as trying to pull teeth. Now today I would that in a heartbeat. Why something so simple as copying a definition end up in a fight? Was there something more going on or was I rebelling?
Despite not doing my homework. I not knowing it at the time was a little odd. I told you that I was normal. At the time this seemed normal. Yet when I was in maybe first grade. I did what most kids did. I had created imaginary friends. Which I kept to myself. I use the term friends. meaning I had more than one where other kids typically only had one.
Most kids grow out of imaginary friends even before they start school. I on the other hand still have them. Yes at twenty-three years old I will admit that I talk to my imaginary friends. What makes this unique was the fact that it may or may not have consumed my life. Meaning that in my imaginary world. I live in Boston where I have a wife and a daughter. My wife has eight years of Harvard Medical School at age twenty-four. So I'd say that I put more effort into my imaginary world than I did on my homework.
Homework wasn't the only area that I struggled in. I remembered in fifth grade we did a program called Accelerated Math. Which was a math program to allow students to go at their own pace. Which can both help and hinder students. For me it was a struggle as it was designed by levels based on how you scored. If it was too low you then had to repeat it until you were allowed to pass. Lessons were set into small groups with based on levels. Which made it rather hard. Since it wasn't the typical assignment then test which I was use to.
This is where the struggle, and the hatred for math began. It came out more as I began middle school. Middle school was a rough time for me. I still didn't do my homework. Even when I did my grades still were suffering. None more than math I was doing horrible. Enough so that the teacher even decided to only make me do half of the problems. I think it helped but not enough to make a difference.
One thing thing that may have contributed was I had a messy locker. I mean messy so messy in fact that if I opened it I'd have stuff falling out. Leading me to not being able to find my homework. Often using the excuse that its in my locker and I couldn't go get it. Teachers tried setting up what I called a locker buddy. Someone who helped remind me to bring all my stuff for each class. That soon ended and I back to my old habits.
Along with being a disorganized and a lazy mess. I also got into trouble a lot. I don't remember how many times, but It may not have been all that much. I do remember being sent to the principals office enough to be a regular Zack Morris. Most the time being sent to the principals office was for doing something inappropriate and or talking in class.
I may not remember all the times I got in trouble. I do remember I had at least one in school suspension, and while in detention which wasn't after school but at the time you got in trouble. I had met a girl who would later become my first girlfriend who today would be someone I would refuse to talk to or see again. Even though It was a rocky relationship I still had fun along the way.
Along with being in trouble and not doing my homework. I got forced to what normal schools called detention. My school called it ASAP or after school assistance program. Which was available for kids to get help on homework. For me however it was an almost a daily thing. I remember trying to sneak my way out many a times. When I stayed I’d usually read to pass the time, and not doing homework which is why I had to stay most of the time anyway.
Over the course of middle school. Teacher started noticing things. They started testing me, and had no idea was special ed testing. As I got through high school. I wished that I had qualified for special ed. Since I felt that math and English grammar specifically were my two areas of concern. I never was placed into special ed because I fell through the cracks. Like my mom put it. I never wanted to do special ed at first but as I got older I wanted to.
For most of my story. I covered my school life and how not being diagnosed could have changed how school went. Along with my adult life as well. I had not finished school yet, and my high school years were a struggle. As I was so close yet was fearing not graduating. Yet I continued to slack off and made graduating all but a miracle.
It wasn't until I was a freshmen in high school when things started changing. My teachers and parents had know for awhile there was something different about me. Thinking that I should see a doctor. Not your typical clinic doctor, but more like a psychiatric doctor.
My parents where very leery of the idea. They thought that they'd put me on meds that would make me a zombie. Albeit that’s a common misconception about ADHD and other popular meds. They diagnosed me with ADHD. Though My parents were leery they eventually decided that what's the worst that could happen and if worst happened we could stop.
Once I was on my meds. I thought I was fine. The pills did what they were suppose to do and my teachers or at least one notice a good improvement. I thought my troubles were over however homework was still my enemy. I got better over time doing it at the last minute. I was more organized, and I stayed out of trouble never being sent to the principals office in my junior and senior year.
You'd think that being on ADHD medications would have made my high school years easier. Well, not exactly I struggled throughout all four years. I occasion wondered if I was ever going to graduation. Yet by the skin of my teeth I did. I know for a fact that the meds helped me to get my high school diploma.
Once I was put on the meds. I never considered recovery or being recovered because I thought the meds were enough. I thought I was cured with the use of the meds. I never felt there to still be a struggle even with the meds. Even though there was more going on than even I was aware.
It became more apparent when I started college. Which is the part of my life I am least proud of. Yet i am grateful for my college experience. For most new college students they are happy to finally be out there on their own and become an adult. I was no exception but I gradually became unhappy. I didn't get along with my roommates. They kept me awake at night and to correct the problem it meant early nights. I was unable to sleep consistently till six or seven in the morning. Having many nights I would get up at four and this never seemed to stop.
I then started to skipping class and was just not caring basically becoming a bum. I then started becoming homesick. Beyond that there was something that was even worse. Which is the main reason why I am not proud of my college experience. Food became my worst enemy. Since I had the idea that food in the fridge was fair game. This did not go particularly well with one of my roommates. It was brought to the housing staff and was told to stop. Yet me being me. I never learned doing it again and again leading me to getting kicked out of the dorms.
I was told to move out ASAP. I had just started my second semester and switched my degree. I thought that switching degrees would make the school front better but that wasn’t the case. As I was skipping class worse now than ever.
My parents as most parents were not sure what to do with me. Since I was kicked out of the dorms. Luckily I had brother who lived in the same town. They thought why don’t you stay with him. I wasn’t happy about the idea. I had the traditional sibling hatred, and the fact that he made me feel guilty for getting kicked out of the dorms. I tried for a week to go to my classes. Ending up sitting in the commons area. Messing around on my laptop to kill time until i could go home.
During all this chaos. I wasn’t truly kicked out of the dorms. I was given a chance to appeal and let the housing people to see my side of the story. I tried to appeal my case but my presentation was little bad. I cried through the whole thing. losing my case on the grounds that even with new roommates I would continue to do the same things.
My parents on the other hand thought that there was something more going on. They one day out of nowhere decided to go see my doctor. To see what she thought about me. She thought there was something wrong. She diagnosed me with PDD pervasive developmental disorder. which is a form of autism. I had mixed feelings about this. Mainly do to the fact that my doctor waited until the shit hit the fan to say yes I have this disorder. Since she knew this years before. Which could have prevented my college experience but whats done is done. Being pushed aside because from the outside I appeared what society considered normal and that made me mad.
If I had to say where my recovery began it started here. Even though I never considered recovery I never needed to. Since my mental state was never a risk to society. If this was my recovery it wasn’t quick but i’d say it was the best thing to help me.
Once I officially quit college we began the fast track of what do we do with me. What my parents wanted or thought I needed was life skills. Since i was young I knew how to do the simple taking care of yourself jobs. Things like washing clothes dishes etc. Doing them not so much.
We first looked for whatever we could find in the city of where I attended college. It appeared to be what we wanted. Though the people there questioned whether or not I was going to live in that city, or go back home with my parents. Since we weren’t sure what or if anything was available back home. Since I lived in a different state but the the service we went to hinted that there was stuff in and around my hometown.
So back home I went still confused about all of this. I didn’t and couldn’t do much. I started becoming a bum. I prefered it that way. I wasn’t working and money was tight. Getting myself the life skills I needed. Meant I had to get funding. Since everything I do I need funding for. Have a job going to see therapist etc. It was a slow process, but for people who need this it is wonderful.
My first and only way to work was to be placed in what government and other funding type services called a sheltered workshop. I first took a tour of the place and felt like it was a good place to work. Perhaps a little too easy but without trying to get a real job which was a struggle we knew that this was a place to start. I had to put the disappointment of college behind me. Even though the fallout of college led me to my PDD diagnosis and onto a recovery that I never knew that I needed.
I began working and soon felt that i was becoming stagnate. Feeling like the next phase of my life wasn’t going to happen. I wanted to become more independent by either having my own apartment or getting into a group home. I needed social security but getting that wasn’t easy. My job paid little to nothing but a ray of sunshine was coming.
I finally got the opportunity to work at a community job. It was available through the sheltered workshop where i was already working. This new job would require at times overtime and would give me what I really wanted which was more money. I still couldn’t make minimum wage. Since if i had social security they’d caps you at $2000. Losing it may mean I won’t be able to get it back.
Now you may think this is where my story ends but you’d be wrong. This time I hit roadblock. Not with my mental illness. Rather with my overall health. I first thought it was a stomach bug. I’d throw up in the morning. When that was over I’d still feel icky but could eat anything without upsetting my stomach. Then the next day repeat the process all over again lasting up to a week.
Jokingly we thought it was morning sickness. Obviously this was not the cause. This would go off and on frequently with a month or so in between flare ups. They did put me on a low fat diet and that did help. Yet I was still sick eventually requesting to see a specialist. I had been battling this for nearly a year and no end in sight.
So with an appointment with a specialist scheduled. It felt like that appointment couldn’t come fast enough. As another flare up happened again this being the worse experience I had felt. Again it lasted a week and I couldn’t take it anymore.
So i went to the emergency room and all I wanted to do was lay down but I never could get comfortable. I was at the time was on so many different pills I couldn’t keep it all straight. I stopped the pills at the doctors request and I so slowly got better. Probably because I sleep for nearly a day which I probably needed more than anything.
I finally went to see the specialist. He asked me some questions and told me I had gastroparesis. Medical jargon for a lazy stomach. Meaning when food leaves the stomach half of it should be digested in about ninety minutes. Yet for me it was about 115 minutes. Classified as mild a case. There is no cure for this. A low fat diet it the only sort of solution. It helps prevent flare ups but is not a cure all. As if I stopped the diet I would eventually be back to where I was.
A couple of months later I moved into an apartment. Since at the beginning of the year I finally was approved for social security. My life for once was finally going in the right direction. My life as hectic as it may be is my life. I wouldn’t change it for the world. Even though if knowing my diagnoses earlier could have changed my life. This is the life and my story and I’m sticking to it.

Description
My Illness School

To tell you the story of my recovery. I'd have to go back and tell you how that for most of my life I wasn't even diagnosed. Growing up I was a typical kid. I had friends a decent family we got along just like any other family.
School on the other hand was a challenge. I would never admit that I hated school. I always thought that hating school was for the kids who did drugs and were troublemakers. Something that was not for me. I was a good kid in class. I was quiet and kept to myself. My teachers classified as a pleasure to have in class.
In my high school we had what they called the student of the month. Which was intended to be awarded for students with good grades. As well as behaving in class. I always thought that I never was awarded student of the month. As my grades were never good enough. If anything my grades were a sure sign that I didn't like school. It started early in elementary school. I felt normal or as normal for being a kid.
When it came to homework that’s when I became a different person. I clearly remember what seemed to be like my first homework. It was to simply copy out of the dictionary of a word we were given. As the word of the day. This seemed very easy but back then I hated doing it. My mom referred to it as trying to pull teeth. Now today I would that in a heartbeat. Why something so simple as copying a definition end up in a fight? Was there something more going on or was I rebelling?
Despite not doing my homework. I not knowing it at the time was a little odd. I told you that I was normal. At the time this seemed normal. Yet when I was in maybe first grade. I did what most kids did. I had created imaginary friends. Which I kept to myself. I use the term friends. meaning I had more than one where other kids typically only had one.
Most kids grow out of imaginary friends even before they start school. I on the other hand still have them. Yes at twenty-three years old I will admit that I talk to my imaginary friends. What makes this unique was the fact that it may or may not have consumed my life. Meaning that in my imaginary world. I live in Boston where I have a wife and a daughter. My wife has eight years of Harvard Medical School at age twenty-four. So I'd say that I put more effort into my imaginary world than I did on my homework.
Homework wasn't the only area that I struggled in. I remembered in fifth grade we did a program called Accelerated Math. Which was a math program to allow students to go at their own pace. Which can both help and hinder students. For me it was a struggle as it was designed by levels based on how you scored. If it was too low you then had to repeat it until you were allowed to pass. Lessons were set into small groups with based on levels. Which made it rather hard. Since it wasn't the typical assignment then test which I was use to.
This is where the struggle, and the hatred for math began. It came out more as I began middle school. Middle school was a rough time for me. I still didn't do my homework. Even when I did my grades still were suffering. None more than math I was doing horrible. Enough so that the teacher even decided to only make me do half of the problems. I think it helped but not enough to make a difference.
One thing thing that may have contributed was I had a messy locker. I mean messy so messy in fact that if I opened it I'd have stuff falling out. Leading me to not being able to find my homework. Often using the excuse that its in my locker and I couldn't go get it. Teachers tried setting up what I called a locker buddy. Someone who helped remind me to bring all my stuff for each class. That soon ended and I back to my old habits.
Along with being a disorganized and a lazy mess. I also got into trouble a lot. I don't remember how many times, but It may not have been all that much. I do remember being sent to the principals office enough to be a regular Zack Morris. Most the time being sent to the principals office was for doing something inappropriate and or talking in class.
I may not remember all the times I got in trouble. I do remember I had at least one in school suspension, and while in detention which wasn't after school but at the time you got in trouble. I had met a girl who would later become my first girlfriend who today would be someone I would refuse to talk to or see again. Even though It was a rocky relationship I still had fun along the way.
Along with being in trouble and not doing my homework. I got forced to what normal schools called detention. My school called it ASAP or after school assistance program. Which was available for kids to get help on homework. For me however it was an almost a daily thing. I remember trying to sneak my way out many a times. When I stayed I’d usually read to pass the time, and not doing homework which is why I had to stay most of the time anyway.
Over the course of middle school. Teacher started noticing things. They started testing me, and had no idea was special ed testing. As I got through high school. I wished that I had qualified for special ed. Since I felt that math and English grammar specifically were my two areas of concern. I never was placed into special ed because I fell through the cracks. Like my mom put it. I never wanted to do special ed at first but as I got older I wanted to.
For most of my story. I covered my school life and how not being diagnosed could have changed how school went. Along with my adult life as well. I had not finished school yet, and my high school years were a struggle. As I was so close yet was fearing not graduating. Yet I continued to slack off and made graduating all but a miracle.
It wasn't until I was a freshmen in high school when things started changing. My teachers and parents had know for awhile there was something different about me. Thinking that I should see a doctor. Not your typical clinic doctor, but more like a psychiatric doctor.
My parents where very leery of the idea. They thought that they'd put me on meds that would make me a zombie. Albeit that’s a common misconception about ADHD and other popular meds. They diagnosed me with ADHD. Though My parents were leery they eventually decided that what's the worst that could happen and if worst happened we could stop.
Once I was on my meds. I thought I was fine. The pills did what they were suppose to do and my teachers or at least one notice a good improvement. I thought my troubles were over however homework was still my enemy. I got better over time doing it at the last minute. I was more organized, and I stayed out of trouble never being sent to the principals office in my junior and senior year.
You'd think that being on ADHD medications would have made my high school years easier. Well, not exactly I struggled throughout all four years. I occasion wondered if I was ever going to graduation. Yet by the skin of my teeth I did. I know for a fact that the meds helped me to get my high school diploma.
Once I was put on the meds. I never considered recovery or being recovered because I thought the meds were enough. I thought I was cured with the use of the meds. I never felt there to still be a struggle even with the meds. Even though there was more going on than even I was aware.
It became more apparent when I started college. Which is the part of my life I am least proud of. Yet i am grateful for my college experience. For most new college students they are happy to finally be out there on their own and become an adult. I was no exception but I gradually became unhappy. I didn't get along with my roommates. They kept me awake at night and to correct the problem it meant early nights. I was unable to sleep consistently till six or seven in the morning. Having many nights I would get up at four and this never seemed to stop.
I then started to skipping class and was just not caring basically becoming a bum. I then started becoming homesick. Beyond that there was something that was even worse. Which is the main reason why I am not proud of my college experience. Food became my worst enemy. Since I had the idea that food in the fridge was fair game. This did not go particularly well with one of my roommates. It was brought to the housing staff and was told to stop. Yet me being me. I never learned doing it again and again leading me to getting kicked out of the dorms.
I was told to move out ASAP. I had just started my second semester and switched my degree. I thought that switching degrees would make the school front better but that wasn’t the case. As I was skipping class worse now than ever.
My parents as most parents were not sure what to do with me. Since I was kicked out of the dorms. Luckily I had brother who lived in the same town. They thought why don’t you stay with him. I wasn’t happy about the idea. I had the traditional sibling hatred, and the fact that he made me feel guilty for getting kicked out of the dorms. I tried for a week to go to my classes. Ending up sitting in the commons area. Messing around on my laptop to kill time until i could go home.
During all this chaos. I wasn’t truly kicked out of the dorms. I was given a chance to appeal and let the housing people to see my side of the story. I tried to appeal my case but my presentation was little bad. I cried through the whole thing. losing my case on the grounds that even with new roommates I would continue to do the same things.
My parents on the other hand thought that there was something more going on. They one day out of nowhere decided to go see my doctor. To see what she thought about me. She thought there was something wrong. She diagnosed me with PDD pervasive developmental disorder. which is a form of autism. I had mixed feelings about this. Mainly do to the fact that my doctor waited until the shit hit the fan to say yes I have this disorder. Since she knew this years before. Which could have prevented my college experience but whats done is done. Being pushed aside because from the outside I appeared what society considered normal and that made me mad.
If I had to say where my recovery began it started here. Even though I never considered recovery I never needed to. Since my mental state was never a risk to society. If this was my recovery it wasn’t quick but i’d say it was the best thing to help me.
Once I officially quit college we began the fast track of what do we do with me. What my parents wanted or thought I needed was life skills. Since i was young I knew how to do the simple taking care of yourself jobs. Things like washing clothes dishes etc. Doing them not so much.
We first looked for whatever we could find in the city of where I attended college. It appeared to be what we wanted. Though the people there questioned whether or not I was going to live in that city, or go back home with my parents. Since we weren’t sure what or if anything was available back home. Since I lived in a different state but the the service we went to hinted that there was stuff in and around my hometown.
So back home I went still confused about all of this. I didn’t and couldn’t do much. I started becoming a bum. I prefered it that way. I wasn’t working and money was tight. Getting myself the life skills I needed. Meant I had to get funding. Since everything I do I need funding for. Have a job going to see therapist etc. It was a slow process, but for people who need this it is wonderful.
My first and only way to work was to be placed in what government and other funding type services called a sheltered workshop. I first took a tour of the place and felt like it was a good place to work. Perhaps a little too easy but without trying to get a real job which was a struggle we knew that this was a place to start. I had to put the disappointment of college behind me. Even though the fallout of college led me to my PDD diagnosis and onto a recovery that I never knew that I needed.
I began working and soon felt that i was becoming stagnate. Feeling like the next phase of my life wasn’t going to happen. I wanted to become more independent by either having my own apartment or getting into a group home. I needed social security but getting that wasn’t easy. My job paid little to nothing but a ray of sunshine was coming.
I finally got the opportunity to work at a community job. It was available through the sheltered workshop where i was already working. This new job would require at times overtime and would give me what I really wanted which was more money. I still couldn’t make minimum wage. Since if i had social security they’d caps you at $2000. Losing it may mean I won’t be able to get it back.
Now you may think this is where my story ends but you’d be wrong. This time I hit roadblock. Not with my mental illness. Rather with my overall health. I first thought it was a stomach bug. I’d throw up in the morning. When that was over I’d still feel icky but could eat anything without upsetting my stomach. Then the next day repeat the process all over again lasting up to a week.
Jokingly we thought it was morning sickness. Obviously this was not the cause. This would go off and on frequently with a month or so in between flare ups. They did put me on a low fat diet and that did help. Yet I was still sick eventually requesting to see a specialist. I had been battling this for nearly a year and no end in sight.
So with an appointment with a specialist scheduled. It felt like that appointment couldn’t come fast enough. As another flare up happened again this being the worse experience I had felt. Again it lasted a week and I couldn’t take it anymore.
So i went to the emergency room and all I wanted to do was lay down but I never could get comfortable. I was at the time was on so many different pills I couldn’t keep it all straight. I stopped the pills at the doctors request and I so slowly got better. Probably because I sleep for nearly a day which I probably needed more than anything.
I finally went to see the specialist. He asked me some questions and told me I had gastroparesis. Medical jargon for a lazy stomach. Meaning when food leaves the stomach half of it should be digested in about ninety minutes. Yet for me it was about 115 minutes. Classified as mild a case. There is no cure for this. A low fat diet it the only sort of solution. It helps prevent flare ups but is not a cure all. As if I stopped the diet I would eventually be back to where I was.
A couple of months later I moved into an apartment. Since at the beginning of the year I finally was approved for social security. My life for once was finally going in the right direction. My life as hectic as it may be is my life. I wouldn’t change it for the world. Even though if knowing my diagnoses earlier could have changed my life. This is the life and my story and I’m sticking to it.