EPTI am 26 years old and no college degree under my belt. My life is in shambles. I am unemployed, can't find a job, and currently don't have a place to call 'home.' I currently have $46.28 and a suitcase full of clothes to my name. How did I get to this point? Well, here it is:
I was always considered as smart and an underachiever by my family. I come from a broken home, which I think is a huge contributor to my lackluster academic career. When I was 6 years old, my father left my mother, sister, and I. My mother was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis shortly after I was born and was confined to a wheel chair by the time the divorce was finalized.
My dad was a huge deadbeat. He cheated on my mother. On top of this, he would leave for days at a time, leaving us with no mode of transportation. My mother couldn't drive, which meant we were stranded in our house and sometimes it was without food. He also hit my mother quite a bit, even when she was confined to a wheel chair. I still remember some of the confrontations my father induced. Sometimes my uncle would come over and sleep on the "hidden" floor-side of my bed without my father knowing. I didn't realize it at the time, but it was to make sure that we were safe from my father. My aunt would do the same thing in my sisters room.
Despite all this, I enjoyed my fathers company. I think I was a bit too young to understand how badly he treated my family, but I would always get upset when he would leave. He is, after all, the reason why I am so into computer games. The first game I ever played was "A-10 Tank Killer" courtesy of my father. He always made sure he had the latest and greatest when it came to home computing.
During the divorce, the question of child possession came up. I don't remember if I had to talk to anyone face to face about who I wanted to live with, or how living conditions were; however, I remember overhearing discussions about it between my parents and attorneys. One of the worst things I heard from all that was my father breaking down in tears and saying "All I want is my computer, Entertainment Center, and Lay-z-Boy. He could have given two shits about my sister and I. It completely destroyed me.
Even with my mothers inability to drive or work, the court still ordered her custody of my sister and I. Now that I am older, I am completely surprised and thankful this happened. My mother had no way to provide for us. She collected disability, welfare, food stamps, etc. We were also supposed to receive child support from my father. To this day, he technically owes myself and my sister over 40k each in back child support. Whatever, by the time I was 18 and had seen my father get thrown in jail twice for non-payment, I realized I would never see this money.
After the divorce, I became a huge mommas boy. Growing up, I would constantly worry about my mother. I would sit outside the bathroom while she was taking showers to listen in case she would fall. One of my aunts would always want to take my sister and I on vacations and I would always protest and fight as much as possible due to the fact that I wanted to be there just in case my mother needed any sort of help.
(*Note about my high school*
My uncle went to one of the top rated private high schools in the state. The alumni, especially back when he graduated, keep in close contact. Somehow, the school found out about my unfortunate family circumstance and raised enough money so that I went to school there for free all four years. The high school was known for its rigorous academics.
*End Note*)
Fast forward to high school. My mothers condition was getting worse and worse by the day. My mother basically had the worst case of progressive multiple sclerosis you could think of. In the summer between Freshman and Sophomore year of high school, my sister and I went on a weekend vacation with my aunt. When my aunt dropped us off at home, she was running late to meet someone for dinner. Therefore she didn't go inside and visit with our mom, which she typically did. So my sister and I walk inside the house happy as ever to see our mom after a long weekend. My mother was obviously in the family room on the computer. Due to her condition, things like being on the computer or playing tetris on the gameboy is how she passed time. We drop off our bags of clothes and go into the family room to say hi to our mother. What happened next will forever haunt me. We walk in, and say "Hey mom!" She turned and tried to smile; however, the left side of her face was completely shut down. The right side of her face was smiling while it looked like the left side was frowning. We asked if she was ok, and she was completely oblivious that the left side of her face was shut down. It seriously looked like she had a stroke. My heart started racing a million miles an hour and I rushed into the kitchen and called my Aunt. She turned around and we took my mother to the hospital. It turned out she didn't have a stroke, but she did have a huge MS flare up. After a week or so, she started to recover and got full function of her left side again. However, a month later she had the same type of attack. By this time, the school year was close to starting and it was becoming more and more clear that she was no longer to care for herself. She was constantly in and out of the hospital and would get several house calls.
About a quarter of the way through the school year, my extended family had to hire a full time personal nurse to care for my mother. This, I realized, was just a temporary solution. I knew in the back of my head that she would have to go into assisted living. Sure enough, April rolls around and she has to go to an assisted living facility.
About this time is when my academic performance started to decline. I would go into school extremely tired and unmotivated. I became a recluse, not really wanting to socialize with anyone. Several of my teachers would come up to me and ask me why I wasn't performing the way I had been over the past year and a half. I typically would just shrug my shoulders and walk away. I didn't get a fuck about them. I honestly didn't even want to finish high school. I wanted to just drop out and find a job. I was so tired of living on govt. assistance and hand-me-downs. Always wearing clothes that were too big or too small. School was the last thing on my mind.
For the reminder of Sophomore year, my sister and I basically lived alone in our house while my mother was in assisted living. In the morning, my aunt would stop by on the way to work to make sure we were good to go for school and would come over after work every day around 6pm to make sure we were getting a good dinner. On the weekends, my Aunt and Uncle would alternate either staying with my sister and I, or having us stay at their place.
Once summer hit, My other aunt (We will call her Aunt #2 for distinguishing purposes), who was currently living out of state, was able to convince her employer to transfer her back to Michigan. She got a nice house in a nice neighborhood and my sister and I moved in with her. To this day, I feel bad for Aunt #2 for having to take care of my sister and I. She wasn't married and never raised kids before. She literally had no idea what to do. Combine that with our fucked up situation, and you can really start to guess how hellish it was for her.
Between the summer of Sophomore and Junior year, I got my first job at a movie theater. I worked my ass off 40 hours a week at $5.75 an hour. The idea was to save up for a car. However, most if it went towards meals, clothes, games, etc. Eventually I was able to buy a beat up '93 grand am. This was one of my highlights growing up. I was so fucking proud of myself. I treated that thing like a baby. Once I purchased that car, the majority of my money went back into the car. I got an after market stereo system which cost me a total of $1400. I loved the shit out of that thing. From here on out, I worked at least 30 hours a week for the rest of my high school career.
I honestly don't remember 90% of Junior year at all. For all I know, maybe I didn't even go. My grades sure would have reflected that. The only class in which I got higher than a C was Visual Basic, which I had taught myself when I was in middle school. I ended up knowing more about it than my teacher. I got an award for "outstanding excellence" in that class. I didn't even know. Every year my school would have a private dinner where these types of awards were handed out. I didn't go. Why would I? Why would a C student(at best) receive any type of award? I didn't find out about it until they mailed it to my house. When I saw it, I just threw it away.
Two weeks before senior year started, I got a phone call from my academic advisor at school. He told me I had to come in and talk to him about the classes I had signed up for. I signed up for the bare minimum needed to graduate. Most all of them were blow off classes like keyboarding, Microsoft word, journalism, etc. When I went in, I found myself in a room with my advisor and 6 of my previous teachers. They basically sat me down and said what I was doing was a huge mistake. They told me they saw huge potential in me, and that I should take some classes which will help transition into college. They tried so hard to get me enrolled into classes like Calculus, AP english, AP computer science, etc. Even though I only got C's the previous year, they knew I could handle those types of classes. I was pretty firm with my selection. The only thing I budged on was the AP Computer Science class. It was a one semester class and if I passed the AP test, it would allow me to place higher in computer related college courses. By this time, I was deeply involved into computers. I had taught myself several programming languages, and I even helped design my schools website and helped them maintain the schools network.
Anyways, school started and I once again went in with the "who gives a fuck" attitude. My mothers health was rapidly diminishing and was constantly in and out of the hospital. Every day on the way home from school, I would drop in either at the hospital or assisted living facility and say hi and chat with her a bit. Then came that awful day of November 7th. It was a Wednesday and I had just got out of school. I headed over to the assisted living facility where my mother was. I parked the car, walked inside, signed in, and headed into my mothers room. She was completely out of it. She was hallucinating and completely delirious. I was getting super nervous and uncomfortable, so after about 20 minutes I decided I was going to leave. As I was saying goodbye, my mother snapped back into reality and realized all the things she had been talking about and broke down in tears. I told her it was fine, and that it was probably just the medication she was on. I stayed and talked with her for awhile longer and she snapped back into her delirious state. By this time, I was freaking out. I said my goodbye and went out to my car. I was trembling so hard because I *knew* something was not right. I went out to my car and I cried. I cried for a good 15 minutes wondering what the fuck I was supposed to do. Eventually I collected myself enough to call my Grandpa. I told him about her state and he told me to just head home and that he would make some phone calls.
That night, she went into the hospital. It turned out she had a series of terrible infections. Due to the fact that she was so immobile, her immune system was shutting down and was having difficulty fighting off the infections. My family told me not to worry and that more test results would be available on Thursday. I physically went to school on Thursday, but mentally my mind was just racing and racing and racing. I just knew something was up.
Finally, school was dismissed and I headed home to my aunts house. Two hours later, my entire family headed to the hospital to see my mother. When we got there she was unconscious. She was hooked up to all these machines and had a breathing apparatus on. My Great Uncle, who is a retired priest did the Anointing of the Sick prayer. As soon as I realized what was going on, I sat down onto the floor and started crying. My family kept telling me that everything was going to be OK, but I just couldn't accept it. We were there until about 9pm. As I was leaving I said "Bye Mom, see you tomorrow!" Purposely leaving out the "I love you" because I thought maybe she wouldn't die without hearing those words for a last time. Even though she was unconscious the whole time prior to this, the second I talked to her, she raised her arm and waved bye. I just about lost it.
I went home exhausted. All the emotions I felt at the hospital really did a number on my body. I fell asleep quite rapidly. All of a sudden I heard my name being called waking me up. I opened my eyes and looked at my alarm clock. It was 6:45. 15 minutes before I typically woke up to get ready for school. I heard my name again, so I looked up at the door and it was my Aunt in tears. She told me to get up and come to the living room. I proceeded to get up and head into the living room where she told me that my mother had passed away during the night. Even though I knew it was coming, I was in complete shock and disbelief. I simply said "OK, I am going to get ready for school." I just wasn't ready to face it. She told me "You don't have to go to school today. Take a day off." I replied "OK." and proceeded back into my room and into my bed trying desperately to fall back asleep. I just couldn't. After about 15 minutes, everything started to catch up to me and my emotions took over. I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't believe what was happening. All I wanted was to see her once more.
The following week was a complete blur. I remember at the wake only going up to the casket once. I was too terrified to go back up to it after that initial viewing. I mainly sat in the back trying to keep to myself. Friends would occasionally show up and offer their condolences. Family would try to come up and offer support, but I wanted none of it. I just wanted to be alone. I became so bitter.
The funeral ceremony was grueling. A lot of people from my school showed up. Even people I never even talked to. I was one of the Pallbearers. As I was leaving the church, I looked up and saw that there were people from my school lined up on both sides. I immediately was filled with anger. Most of these people I didn't even know. I thought "how dare them." It turns out one of my teachers(who I also considered a friend) somewhat orchestrated the whole thing. She talked with my aunts and uncles and they thought it would be a good gesture to kind of show that people were there for me. Looking back, I know it was with good intentions, but at the time I was just filled with anger. I just proceeded to the car I was riding in and locked the door. I didn't want to talk to anyone, especially my classmates.
The remainder of my senior year was filled with a lot of cigarettes, weed, ketamine, and shrooms. What a way to cope, huh?
I honestly should have failed my senior year in high school. Hell, I should have been kicked out. I think a lot of my teachers felt sympathy and basically gave me free grades. My attendance was at 48% for the school year and I didn't do a single piece of homework. I did; however, completely smash my AP Computer Science test. Cool.
In Freshman and Sophomore year, I was an honors student. By the time I was a senior, I was a complete druggy who should have never received a diploma. I did my best to hide everything from my family, and even some friends. Hell, I was pretty successful. I received several lectures from family members regarding my school performance. On the exterior, I was a very strong personality who was seemingly coping with the death of my mother very well. "You can't show weakness" is what I would say to myself. On the inside, I was diving deeper and deeper into depression and anxiety.
I reluctantly signed up for classes at the local community college. Now that I was out of high school with a car, I had pretty much free reign over my schedule. For two years my routine was:
-Acquire Syllabus
-Skip classes
-Show up for Mid Term
-Show up for Final
When I was skipping classes, I mostly just drove around. Sometimes I would head up to my work and see a movie, and sometimes I would head to the mall and just walk around like I was doing something important. I also did a fuck ton of drugs.
After two years of dropping classes and barely passing grades at the community college I decided I wanted to get the fuck out of Aunt #2's house. I signed up for FAFSA and received a few grants. I transfered to a University that was two hours away from home and got a house with a few friends that were living out there.
Nothing changed. I still wasn't going to class. I was just collecting syllabii and show up for midterms, essential labs, and finals. Hell, I didn't even buy books. If I felt I wasn't going to get a passing grade, I would just drop the class. After a year of this, I was put on academic probation and lost most of my financial aid until I could dig myself out of probation. The summer after that second year is when I hit my first rock bottom. I stayed out at the university for the entire summer while everyone I knew moved back home. I was severely depressed. Eventually I gave in and started seeing a therapist. I was prescribed some anti-depressants and benzo's to help with my anxiety. I was also 21 by this time and began drinking heavily. Yeah, I was that fucking moron who mixed Alcohol with Anti-Depressants and Benzo's.
Class registration came along for school and I signed up for a full 12 credit hours. I never went to class. Not once. I was so out of it from the alcohol and benzos that I didn't even remember to drop the classes. Sweet. By this time, I am about 10k in debt and nothing to show for it. Just a bunch of withdraws and a couple 2.0s sprinkled in. I ran out of money so I signed up for a few credit cards which I maxed out quite quickly. I was just doing everything in my power to stay away from home. Eventually, I completely ran out of money. I was dead fucking broke. I tried to get my job back at the movie theater, but due to management changes, I was just another application in a sea filled with a bunch of 16-18 year olds who were willing to work for much less than I what I left making.
Eventually I got a job at a Rental Car office. I was a 'Driver.' I would drive cars between fleets and pick up customers from dealerships and other repair shops and take them to the office to get a Rental. The pay wasn't phenomenal, but it was better than nothing. I was working about 45-50 hours a week and with overtime, I was starting to make some serious bank. I slowly started to pay off my debt, which was up to about 15k. My therapy was finally starting to make a difference now as well. I was no longer doing drugs, mixing alcohol with benzos, and I was learning how to deal with my depression and anxiety. Eventually I got off the prescriptions and was living in a 2BR apartment with a friend. It was a shit-hole of an apartment, but it was better than living with family.
Then comes that dreaded day. A week after my 23rd birthday, I was at the bar with a couple friends. I decided to have a couple drinks. I am Irish to the bone and can handle my booze. I knew my limit when it came to driving and was actually very careful with that sort of thing. We decided to leave the bar and head back to my buddys apartment to play some video games and not spend so much at the bar. I hop in my car and turn out of the parking lot. As I am turning, I make eye contact with a police officer who is driving the opposite direction I am heading. I look in my rearview mirror and see him bust a U-Turn. Ugh. I thought 'Whatever. You know your limit, you are fine. You are driving fine." After about a half a mile, my phone rings. I reach into my left pocket to get it and my leg kind of jolted the steering wheel causing a tiny little swerve. IMMEDIATELY the cop whips on his lights and pulls me over. "Why teh fuck did I reach for my phone?" I thought.
The cop asks me if I had been drinking and I responded truthfully. He asked me to step out of the car and he proceeded to give me a field sobriety test. Walk in a straight line, stand one one foot, follow a light with my eyes, etc. I did well on the field sobriety test and he said "Okay, I just need to get your BAC." "Fuck" I thought. I knew there was a good chance I would be really close to the legal limit. Sure enough, I blow a 0.1 and I am handcuffed and taken in. I got the DWI plead down to an OWVI, which is a more minor alcohol offense. However, it still cost a shit ton of money. Around 8k after fines, court costs, and probation expenses.
The day after I was arrested, I went into work and I was freaking out. You needed to maintain a clean driving record and any kind of alcohol related offense was grounds for immediate termination. I just went in and was 100% truthful to my boss. I told him exactly what happened. He told me that I was a great worker and would feel guilty about putting a blemish on my employment history. He told me to put in my two week notice so that I would be finished before my sentencing. I complied and at least avoided a termination.
But now I was unemployed, and my debt was once again raising due to my drunk driving charge. Oh well, time to start over once again!
I scoured around for jobs and a friend of mine was nice enough to put in a good word for me at the restaurant he worked at. I was hired nearly on the spot as a cook. The pay was a shitty $10/hr, but hey. It was something. I learned the job quite quickly and found myself rising up quite fast. I started on the salad station and within months I had mastered the entire line. Eventually, I got promoted to Back of House Key/Assistant Kitchen Manager. I got a nice pay increase and was now making $15/hr with constant overtime pay. However, I really wasn't happy with my job. The roommate I was living with got into a pretty serious relationship and when our lease was up we went our separate ways. I got a single bedroom apartment and slowly became more and more frustrated with where I was in life.
About a year and a half ago, a friend of mine who was living in NYC as a big shot Editor told me I should move out there. He said he could get me a job in the TV business. I would start out low as a PA or Assistant Editor due to having no degree, but he believed with my great computer skills, I would quickly move up. After several talks, I decided I would do it. I saved up as much money as I could and sold all of my belongings minus my computer and clothes. I shipped my PC out there and hopped on a 1-way flight to LaGuardia with high hopes. This was June of this year.
We moved into a small shitty little 2BR apartment so that I could afford rent. One of his friends ended up moving in with us and sleeping on the couch. He was supposed to pay a portion of the rent. He never did. With my buddies pay, he could pay for the apartment for himself; however, with my pride I still wanted to pay half. A month went by and it seemed to me he wasn't really doing anything to help me get a job. Around this time, I decided to expand my employment options and started applying to every place I could think of. I literally spent about 8 hours a day submitting applications and resumes to every place I could find. From restaurants to IT to minimum wage dead end jobs. With the high cost of the city, I was rapidly running out of money. I noticed that my buddy and his friend were increasingly smoking more and more pot. It didn't really bother me too much. However, it was a bit annoying to see my friend baked out on the couch when he promised he would help me out in the job department.
I got a few interviews but nothing really panned out. At the end of September, I had 1300 left to my name. I was getting desperate, but with some good luck, I got a break. I got a promising interview at a restaurant which would pay
$14/hr and guarantee overtime. It wasn't quite enough to live off of in NYC, but I just happy to have such a good interview after 3 1/2 months of dead ends. The Kitchen Manager called me and asked if I would be willing to come in and work a shift to see how I do. I was absolutely ecstatic. I went in and did a great job. Even without having all the dishes memorized, I never got behind and didn't receive one complaint. I got home around 11pm and walked in and found both my roommates sitting on the couch doing lines of coke. "Great" I thought. I knew my buddy had dabbled in coke quite a bit in the past, but he had told me before I moved out that he didn't really do that stuff anymore. With my previous drug history, being around this type of shit is bad news.
The next day I got a phone call from the Kitchen Manager at the place I was at the previous day. He told me that I did a fantastic job; however, he had a comparable person who had New York experience and a food handlers permit. He told me if any openings became available, he would call me. Fuck.
I called my sister, who lives in North Carolina and told her about the job, my roommates doing coke, and everything else. Her, being one of the few people who know about my past history with drugs told me to get the fuck out and offered her place to me until I got my feet on the ground.
I did precisely that. I booked a train ticket to NC and shipped my PC via UPS to her house. I was just so upset with how everything turned out. Once again, I found myself broke, unemployed, and no way to pay off the remainder of my debt.
I am writing this on my sisters computer because UPS fucked up my computer in the shipping process and is fighting nail and teeth to do everything in their power to avoid having to pay out the claim even though I insured my computer for $900. I have been here since the first week of October and have yet to find a job. I have no car, no money, no degree, and no local friends.
I honestly have no clue what the fuck I am going to do now. I feel like I am a burden to my sister and am overstepping her hospitality. I feel I am $46 from being on the streets.
I terribly regret moving to NYC. My sister asked me if I am mad at my friend for feeding me false information about being able to get me a job and I really am not. I am more mad at myself for being stupid enough to move out there without a degree and trusting the fact that my buddy would get me a job.
I wish desperately that I would have been more open about how I felt when I was younger so I could have received proper help before I destroyed my academic career.
Wow, this is pretty long. If you managed to read the whole thing, I just want to thank you for being an ear for me to talk to.
