'Childhood schizophrenia'.

Pinned to me in 1964, at age six. The drugs soon followed - as did the 'special-ed' classes, outpatient 'treatment' at several different hospitals and finally at age sixteen, admission to a 'group home'.

This last almost did it to me permanently.  Not long after being sent to this place by my family, I was dragged at eleven o'clock at night to the local psychiatric lockup after staff in this 'group home' spent most of an evening goading me - quite deliberately I'm sure.

After several more years of this evil revolving door I finally escaped for good and have successfully remained at large (aside from several close calls) since the early 1980's.

Prior to the 'big getaway' I went through a bout of 'self-medication' (primarily with alcohol) and ran into some legal difficulties as a result, and also spent some time living on the street. I have not had a drink since October 1981.

It hasn't been a bed of roses. I'm still plagued by insomnia, my blood pressure's frequently in orbit and many times I feel like a complete social outcast despite having a broad circle of acquaintances, a few of whom I can count as close friends.

I'm lacking common ground with most others when it comes to conversational gambits, which can make 'breaking the ice' with new acquaintances damned awkward and painful. I've come to treasure my relationships with those who have been able to see past this and accept me as I am, especially with folks who share this commonality of experience.

Never again will I seek out any 'professional' for support around these kinds of personal struggles. As far as I'm concerned they don't have the first clue.