I am in the process of going back to school to get some training in the accounting practices of AP/AR and various related duties. Something in me likes working with numbers and doing some data entry, I guess.

When I was in high school in the mid to late 1980's, I excelled in my school work, and I finished in the top 6% of my class. An honor student, I also excelled in my experiences with the Boy Scouts of America, and I achieved the highest rank possible: Eagle Scout.

Upon the recommendation of a favorite history teacher at my high school, I applied, was accepted, and went to school in a small liberal arts college in Illinois called Knox College. My goal was to get a BA in international relations; and, coupled with my ROTC training, I wanted to become the military liaison in the American embassy in Moscow, during the heat of the Cold War. To this point in time, I had only one goal that had not been realized: being accepted to the West Point military academy.

At Knox College, I maintained a respectable 3.2 GPA, and life was good. I had friends, school was fun, and (to borrow the line from a movie), the future was so bright that I had to wear shades.

However, in my sophomore year, having survived my most critical goal--finishing the first essential year-I faltered. School wasn't fun anymore, and I got a "D" in my calculus class. I don't know how this happened, especially because I have always excelled in math. I have only had one D in my entire life to this point.

Although I don't recall everything that had happened to lead up to this point, I know that I was retreating from contact with friends and family, and that I wove a web of deception. I didn't take my finals, and I told my friends that I was going to see my parents and I told my parents the opposite. With this ruse, I attempted to end my life taking some pills. Fortunately for me and the people I care about, I survived and am standing here in front of you today. But this was the beginning of a dark time in my life.

My illness is twofold. My diagnosis is Schizoaffective. This is composed of two components: The schizophrenic part, and the affective part. I will now explain this.

To explain the schizophrenic part, you must use your imagination. Pretend that you are in a movie theater. Around you – with your eyes – you see the people around you. On the screen – what I see in my mind's eye – I see Nightmare on Elm Street part 25. As the movie sequels go up in number in the horror genre, they get bloodier and full of pain being inflicted on others. Because of this, I feel mental anguish because, instead of Freddie Kruger, I see myself doing those awful things. To me at the time, it is okay for me to hurt/kill myself, but harming other people was against my moral fiber. This also caused me to have an increased desire to end my life so that I couldn't hurt others then.

The affect part of my diagnosis is, basically, depression. This form of mental illness is more commonly talked about in our more modem society. The net result of this is that I have a hard time motivating myself to do things-including getting out of bed in the morning or washing my clothes and taking showers.

To try and help these symptoms, I spent a lot of time in psych wards in hospitals. Various medications were tried, but these failed.  ECT(shock treatments) were also tried, but with mixed results and a lack of clear success. They even took a shot with an MRI back in 1991 (it was in the back of a trailer at the local hospital), but the results were inconclusive at best.

When I wasn't in the hospital, I was in one of several group homes for people with MI. Basically, these places were more than just room and board places. They provided medication management, some group therapy, and structure.

At this point in time, I was so very ashamed at having failed in my life. Admittedly, I had high goals in and after high school, but I knew that I had the right stuff to achieve them all. But now, they were gone and no longer attainable. I felt that I had not only let me down-but I let down my own mom, dad and my sister. I was destined for greatness. Now gone.

Around the turn of the millennium, I came upon a thought that was to change my life for all time. It came to me much in the same way as Sir Isaac Newton's apple. Out of the dark, I came upon this realization: I was not alone. I had avoided contact with former friends and even relatives because I thought that I was a social leper, to be avoided and shunned by all. However, this apple was NOT rotten, and I realized that I had a medical illness, and was not the illness itself.

I came to Vail Place in December of 2003, when I had moved into my present living situation (in a house shared by 2 other men). The liaison person for the company who owned the house took me to Vail, and thus I took another step on my road to recovery. The main attraction for me was the Vail Place Job Club. I felt that if I had a job, I would feel as though I amounted to something more. (Not to mention that the money would help, too!) The focus of said group was to provide support in the search for employment from other members of the group. Some of these members already had jobs, and they provided a positive influence and inspiration and show that it is possible to get a job-even if you had a mental illness. In Job Club, we also learned to refine skills both basic and more involved like how to make a resume stand out or the tips for what to do/not do in a job interview.

Also at Vail, I received possibly the best help I ever got: the "S" word. For the many who do not know what I mean by this, the "S" stands for Structure. Sometimes, especially if you are keeping busy, you can put your woes on hold while you are occupied making a sun catcher in a craft group, or picking up a spare on a split in bowling, or just shooting the breeze with Vail staff and members.

In March of 2005, one of my dreams was realized. I found-and got -a job working for a company named Taher who cooked and served food at an assisted living place for seniors in Hopkins called St. Therese SW as a food server. At this time, I weighed over 300 pounds and had a waist of 52 inches. Three months later, I lost a lot of weight and my self esteem went way up. It seemed as though nothing could get better than this.

However, in May of 2006, it did. I started to volunteer some of my time and skills at Vail Place itself. At first, I just recorded the attendance numbers. But now, in addition to that report, I now do a lot more, ranging from general clerical work and facilitate some needed reports to taking money for Vail lunches, to writing two articles for the Vail newsletter AND getting said publication ready for delivery.

It is through Vail Place that I plan on achieving my goal: to be self-sufficient enough so that I can, one day, be off the financial aid dole and master of my own ship.