I studied with my friend twice a week for a month in order to prepare for a qualifying exam. The qualifying exam is required to continue in the program as an official graduate student in the Master's program. I took it. I passed it. My friend did not. I am depressed for her, and for me.
I am depressed because I have so many 5250's on my record that I might never be a community college teacher, or have a career at all. I have been "out" for three years without incident. By "out" I mean socially re-integrated and normal enough to avoid the psychiatric in-patient facilities. I can never erase those 5250's though. They appear on my background check. I have NEVER been charged with a crime, yet I feel like a criminal for being schizo-affective. It is not fair that 5250's appear like a felony would on a background check. They should prevent this because 1) being sick is not a crime, and 2) it violates the medical privacy policies that the U.S. has in place.
If I had spare time I would rally the NAMI supporters and propose a law that states that a doctor's note can over-ride an employment disqualification due to 5250's. But I am a graduate student taking 5 classes. I have no time. I have no life. I might not even have prospects.
It is moments like these when I close my eyes and seek a higher force. Nothing comes. I open my eyes. Tears come to my eyes, not a benevolent, omnipotent being. I feel empty and hopeless. Stigma has killed my joy. Just earlier today I was enthusiastically blathering on about my studies. Now, I feel that I have made a horrible mistake. I shouldn't bother with graduate school since nobody will hire me because they don't want mental patients working. They want us in bed, laying prone for days on end, growing plump like veal, spending our meager disability check on little art supplies so we can create art that nobody will buy.
I write. I write and apparently somebody stops by to read. Why? Who am I? What am I worth in this society? Why do I keep living when others do not?
This was supposed to be a happy post---I passed a difficult exam with flying colors. I am fully admitted to the University. I have already begun research for my term papers. Yet I am filled with ambivalence and sadness. My friend is normal, no 5150's on her record, nothing on her record. Yet she failed and I passed.
Don't worry, I do not have any plans to stop attending school or to slip further into this depression. I just needed to vent. I must accept that this is a risk I am taking---to pay a lot of money for diplomas that I might never use. Fancy, fancy diplomas. An Associate's Degree diploma. A Bachelor's Degree diploma. Soon, perhaps a Master's degree diploma will join the others on top of my tall bookcase, collecting dust, something to show off to the few friends I may have down the road.....
Or maybe I will just run away to Amsterdam and live in the Red Light district, smoking in the cafes, wandering the streets looking for menial jobs, and writing terrible poetry in the back alleys of potshops.
I am depressed because I have so many 5250's on my record that I might never be a community college teacher, or have a career at all. I have been "out" for three years without incident. By "out" I mean socially re-integrated and normal enough to avoid the psychiatric in-patient facilities. I can never erase those 5250's though. They appear on my background check. I have NEVER been charged with a crime, yet I feel like a criminal for being schizo-affective. It is not fair that 5250's appear like a felony would on a background check. They should prevent this because 1) being sick is not a crime, and 2) it violates the medical privacy policies that the U.S. has in place.
If I had spare time I would rally the NAMI supporters and propose a law that states that a doctor's note can over-ride an employment disqualification due to 5250's. But I am a graduate student taking 5 classes. I have no time. I have no life. I might not even have prospects.
It is moments like these when I close my eyes and seek a higher force. Nothing comes. I open my eyes. Tears come to my eyes, not a benevolent, omnipotent being. I feel empty and hopeless. Stigma has killed my joy. Just earlier today I was enthusiastically blathering on about my studies. Now, I feel that I have made a horrible mistake. I shouldn't bother with graduate school since nobody will hire me because they don't want mental patients working. They want us in bed, laying prone for days on end, growing plump like veal, spending our meager disability check on little art supplies so we can create art that nobody will buy.
I write. I write and apparently somebody stops by to read. Why? Who am I? What am I worth in this society? Why do I keep living when others do not?
This was supposed to be a happy post---I passed a difficult exam with flying colors. I am fully admitted to the University. I have already begun research for my term papers. Yet I am filled with ambivalence and sadness. My friend is normal, no 5150's on her record, nothing on her record. Yet she failed and I passed.
Don't worry, I do not have any plans to stop attending school or to slip further into this depression. I just needed to vent. I must accept that this is a risk I am taking---to pay a lot of money for diplomas that I might never use. Fancy, fancy diplomas. An Associate's Degree diploma. A Bachelor's Degree diploma. Soon, perhaps a Master's degree diploma will join the others on top of my tall bookcase, collecting dust, something to show off to the few friends I may have down the road.....
Or maybe I will just run away to Amsterdam and live in the Red Light district, smoking in the cafes, wandering the streets looking for menial jobs, and writing terrible poetry in the back alleys of potshops.
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