Tag Archives: Lawson Wallace

The Correlation between Agenesis and Avoidant Personality Disorder: An Investigative Analysis

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

It’s a logical assumption

Photo by Wendy Wei: https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-leaning-on-rock-near-beach-shore-1662625/

When I was homeless in Minneapolis, I had State Insurance, and I was under a Doctor’s care. I was also seeing a psychotherapist. The psychotherapist recommended I get neuropsychological testing.

I sent the report to the Advocate who was helping me apply for Disability

I took photos of the report from the doctor. I sent the report to Social Security with my Disability Application. Social Security approved my request a few months later.

It wasn’t the first time psychiatrists and psychologists have tested me. I have been in several programs in as many States. My parents encouraged me to do it in a misguided attempt to help me succeed in life.

A surprise for me, but not for my family

Twenty years earlier, I was in a rehabilitation program in Florida. The pre-screening involved visits to a psychiatrist’s office and a psychologist. They diagnosed “Avoidant Personality Disorder.”

It always bothered me that I had difficulty being outgoing and social. I never understood why I was awkward around girls and never had close friends. When I told my family about the report, my brother said, “ No Shit.”

It looks to me that one leads to the other, but I could be wrong

I thought of that report after I read the Neuro-psych report twenty years later. The report said I had agenesis of the corpus callosum. Cognitive Impairment can be one of the varied symptoms of ACC.

I was big for my age, and I was a clumsy oaf. I was also teased and bullied for being “slow.” Looking back and thinking about it. I learned to distrust people, and I never knew how to make friends.

I’m not aloof or snobbish, I’m terrified

Things were better in middle and high school, but I never could let anyone get too close. I’m a little better now. I’m sixty-four, and I’m married. It’s surprising because I started dating late in life.

I read that ACC is a chronic disorder, and I know that to be true. I felt bad about my inability to get close to people. As I get older I don’t care as much.

I’m better at getting over the fear, but I’m not as outgoing as I want to be

I have learned late in life that I can write my own story. I’m more likely to say hello and start a conversation in a coffee shop or while waiting in line somewhere.

In my teens and twenties, I would have died first. I have conversations with people all the time. I even enjoy the company of other people sometimes. It hasn’t been easy to break out, but I’m, getting there.

I’ve had a lot of “AH HAH” moments as I’ve read the report

Since I found the Psych report, I have been searching the web for information about the agenesis of the callosum. my research explained a lot about the cognitive and personality problems I have.

Despite my issues. I have come a long way. The Doctors told my parents when I was an infant that the prognosis for a happy life was grim. They said that I would be institutionalized.

I have avoided long-term care so far

The Psych report when I was in my fifties stated that I should be in a long-term care facility. I’m married and I live in an apartment. The point is I fought through it.

You don’t have to lie down and quit or die. I didn’t when I learned what I learned about myself. You can follow my lead. Keep trying and learning. Challenge yourself and push the envelope.

I could hold a job after all

For someone who wouldn’t amount to anything I was employed for twenty years. I owned a home once. I’m married and pay rent and bills in an apartment.

Final Thought:

We all have struggles. Never quit. Keep living and trying and failing. You will find success and it will be sweeter because you worked harder for it. I still get down on myself at times, but I don’t wallow in it.

Never quit, keep on trucking until you get to where you want to be then set a higher goal. I’m glad I never quit.

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The Intriguing Consequences of a Lack of Communication Between the Two Hemispheres of the Brain
It makes things harder than they need to bemedium.com

The Intriguing Consequences of a Lack of Communication Between the Two Hemispheres of the Brain

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

It makes things harder than they need to be

Photo by Anna Shvets: https://www.pexels.com/photo/finger-pointing-to-a-brain-scan-4226119/

It must have distressed my parents when I was a baby when it was time to sit up, crawl, and walk. I didn’t reach those milestones when I was supposed to. My mom told me stories of how she would be in tears because I couldn’t understand how to tie my shoes.

My parents thought they had some clarity when the doctors diagnosed my Dyslexia. How surprised they would be if they knew. Years after they passed away I found out Dyslexia wasn’t my problem.

My brain is wired differently, not a big deal at all

It was an honest mistake, I guess. Missing benchmarks is also symptomatic of Dyslexia. The “ Brain Damage” trope my parents rammed down my throat also makes sense.

It makes sense because I was born with agenesis of the corpus callosum. The corpus callosum is a white matter tract. It connects the human brain’s two hemispheres.

It could be a problem, one side needs to know what the other is doing, I guess.

The corpus callosum allows the two hemispheres to communicate with each other. With agenesis, the corpus callosum doesn’t form, or The organ might not be there.

As you might imagine, when the two hemispheres of our brains can’t communicate with each other. There will be issues. It’s why I’m so clumsy and prone to messiness and disorganization.

It’s also why I overcompensate by doing things the same way, and it’s why I dislike change.

I grew up believing I was Dyslexic, but it appears that’s not true

Dyslexia and agenesis share a few of the same traits. Traits like sitting up and walking later than I should have. Having trouble learning to tie shoes is also a trait of Dyslexia and agenesis.

I thought it was interesting when I read the neuropsychologist’s report. It clearly stated that there was no evidence of Dyslexia. I had the symptoms. I understand how the doctors made the mistake when I was young.

ADHD is a common symptom of agenesis

I haven’t been diagnosed with ADHD. If I had I wasn’t told about it. I have some of the traits. ADHD is a common symptom of agenesis. I have always had trouble focusing and sitting still. When I was a child the doctors prescribed drugs to calm me down.

They threw the drugs away, I’m not sure it was the right thing to do

My parents threw the drugs away because they turned me into a zombie. I always wondered why I had a hard time sleeping at night. Insomnia is one of the symptoms. I read the myriad of symptoms and shook my head in amazement.

It was like reading the story of my life. A man is supposed to be able to assemble things work on an engine and change a tire. If you see me trying to change a tire get your phone out and record the show.

The video will go viral.

Anger and bitterness are wastes of energy, I’m trying hard to let it go

I spent most of my life bitter about my situation. I wondered why I had no talents or gifts. I was angry at my parents and God for putting me on the earth to take up space and not be good for anything.

I owe my late parents and my God an apology. I have the gift of writing and communicating. It took a lifetime to find those gifts, it took too long but I’m making up for lost time.

The past doesn’t matter, I’m doing better here and now

Bitterness served no purpose. The hand that I was dealt doesn’t matter. What matters is how I’m playing the cards I’m dealt with. I’m determined to make the later stages of my life the best part of my life.

Making peace with myself is the start of that journey.

Final Thought:

None of us are perfect. I’m finding out late in life the reasons I had so much trouble. It’s a struggle, but I’m doing my best to stop letting my limitations get me down. I’m working hard and I’m defying the expectations of doctors and family members.

Whatever limitation you have, keep fighting. Continue to learn and grow as a person. It will be harder for you than it is with other people, but the victory of overcoming will be sweeter. Whatever you do, don’t be bitter. I know from experience that bitterness will weigh you down and keep you from your goals.

Never give up.

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Interpreting a Psychiatric Report: Contemplating Borderline Intellectual Functioning
Trying to keep things in perspectivemedium.com

Did a Wrong Diagnosis of Dyslexia Hold Me Back?

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

I don’t know what to think

Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/photo-of-an-elderly-man-with-gray-facial-hair-8860209/

While I was cleaning out my Google Cloud storage, I came across the results of tests I underwent by a neuropsychologist and his team. I used my cellphone to photograph each page. I included the report in the paperwork I sent to apply for Disability.

I knew deep in my heart that Dyslexia wasn’t my problem

It’s been interesting reading, and it’s given me a lot to think about. The thing that jumped out at me yesterday when I was re-reading the report. I grew up hearing my parents talk about my Dyslexia. I was nine years old when the doctors diagnosed me with a learning disability.

“ Such a profile of Academic performance is not consistent with a language-based learning disability such as Dyslexia.”

Excerpt from the report from the Neuropsychology tests

“What the Hell?” I thought, To hear my parents tell it, I had all the symptoms. They reinforced the thought. They blamed Dyslexia for every setback and failure of my adult life.

Never mind the fact that other Dyslexics have productive lives, my Dyslexia was worse, or some crap like that

It was the theme of my life growing up, “ You were born with Dyslexia and Brain Damage.” I grew so frustrated with it. I told my dad once, when I was in my twenties, “Not everything is about Dyslexia, Sometimes I f_ up like everyone else.”

I have heard other people talk about Learning Disabilities. “ I never let Dyslexia define me.” Well, isn’t that special? It was beat into my psyche from the minute I started school.

Mom wasn’t forthcoming, she flat-out lied

Mom and Dad were holding out on me. One day out of frustration. I asked my mom, “The Doctors must have diagnosed something other than Dyslexia. Other Dyslexics are successful, why am I having so much trouble? What did the Doctors tell you?”

“ I don’t remember.” my mom answered without looking me in the eyes. The only time I caught her in a lie. I was in my thirties at the time. At this point, It doesn’t make any difference.

I ask myself, “What difference does it make?”

I try to put it in perspective If I had known the extent of the cognitive issues I was born with, would I have given up? What should I have done? All I wanted was to have gainful employment and a family of my own. I never achieved those goals.

The thought of giving up never entered my mind. I was driven to work hard to show others I wasn’t feeble-minded and lazy. I also wanted to prove it to myself.

If I had known the truth, would things been different?

If I knew the truth what would I have done differently? I don’t know, but I suspect the knowledge would have been a crutch. I learned to work hard and never quit. If I had been a quitter I would have ended up where the doctors said I should be, in an institution.

Hopes and dreams are powerful. Would I have accepted it if I knew for sure that I wouldn’t get to where I dreamed of being? would I have muddled through life waiting for death?

In the past, I looked back and wondered what might have been, but what if it was never meant to be, to begin with? I’m not stupid. I have a writing talent. I proved that I’m a good communicator, and my growing YouTube channel has established that.

Better late than never, I guess

Why did it take so long to figure this out? The plan is to not worry about the timing. I am grateful I discovered my writing talent and I’m grateful for Medium and Illumination. The Illumination Publication and the Medium Platform have given me an outlet.

The question was, “Did a Wrong Diagnosis of Dyslexia hold me back?” I’m not sure it did. I’m also not sure what path I could have chosen that would have led to a fulfilled life.

I knew deep down Dyslexia wasn’t the whole story

I was diagnosed with Dyslexia at a young age. As I grew older I had the nagging feeling that Dyslexia wasn’t the reason for my dysfunction. I found out years later that my feelings were correct.

Knowing the truth has no practical benefit. I’m on disability and will never get fired from a job again. The information has given me a certain amount of peace, but I can’t help feeling angry and bitter.

I have a lot of time now to do what makes me happy

I’m not proud of that, but I always try to be honest when I write. There is a bright side. I have more time to write and make videos. My content entertains and helps people. It took a lifetime, but I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.

My past has helped me be productive in the present and I provide value for people, so it’s all good.

Final Thought:

It’s hard to get out of the box life puts you in. Your hopes and dreams Life thwarts your dreams every chance it gets. Never lose hope. Keep trying to find your way and do what you can to be happy. If God wills it, you will get to where you’re supposed to be.

Mom and Dad Held Out on Me, but What Difference Does It Make?
Questions without answersmedium.com

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Mom and Dad Held Out on Me, but What Difference Does It Make?

Posted on by under Parents and Family

Questions without answers

Photo by cottonbro: https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-wearing-brown-dress-shirt-6566823/

I honestly wanted to know

One day I was talking to my mom. It was before she passed away, so I was in my thirties. We were talking about my issues, the fact that I couldn’t keep a job until I started working as a security guard.

“ Come on mom, there are Dyslexics that are keeping jobs, why am I the only one that can’t?” It didn’t register then, but looking back, I know she was holding out on me.

She wouldn’t look me in the eyes, she never avoided eye-contact before

“ Surely the Doctors found other things wrong, there has to be something else going on.” I looked at mom silently pleading with her to tell me the truth.

“ They diagnosed something else, but I don’t remember what it was.” She wouldn’t look at me when she said it. At the time, I thought my mom was perfect it never occurred to me that she wouldn’t ever tell me the truth.

As one Vocational Rehab counselor told me, “ Dyslexia isn’t your problem.”

I had problems. Dyslexia was the obvious one. I found out years after mom and dad died, that the problems were more extensive than mom and dad let on.

I never could get out on my own. At first, it was because I couldn’t keep a job. I couldn’t learn what I needed to learn fast enough, or once I learned it, I was too slow.

Mom and dad were always insisting that I join these programs

I lost count of the Vocational Rehabilitation programs I completed. I would complete the programs with hope and new confidence, only to be knocked down again.

I was in my fifties; and homeless in Minneapolis. I had State Insurance, so I was able to receive care from a Psychotherapist. She arranged for me to get tested.

I was in my fifties when I found out the truth

After years of confusion and self-pity. I found out there are reasons that I have so much trouble. It also dawned on me that mom and dad knew the extent of the problems, but they wouldn’t tell me.

I underwent Neuro-Psychological testing. The testing was supposed to last a full day, but they stopped before noon. I was too stressed out. They were probably concerned that I would have another Stroke or a nervous breakdown.

Things make sense now

I was upset when I received the results, but I was also relieved. I’m still confused about why my parents didn’t tell me the full truth. I guess they did but in their own way.

Looking back, not a day went by, “ you’re Dyslexic, Lawson, and you were born with Brain Damage.” Mom and dad meant well. They loved me.

They were repeating what the Doctors told them in the early sixties. When I looked at the Brain-scans with the Doctor in Minneapolis, I learned the real diagnosis.

Not Brain-Damaged so much, but Brain-different

“ You’re brain is Interesting.” He said; as he pointed to the C-scan picture. He told me every way that my brain” is wired differently.” I’m not Brain-Damaged at all.

I have a High School Diploma, I have a few years of college. I was reading college level before I was in High School. I’m not Brain-Damaged, I’m different.

They meant well

Mom and dad tried to help me. I was always pushed into programs that they thought would help.

That stopped when mom died. Dad wanted me to be a security guard forever. He didn’t think I could do anything else. He damned sure didn’t believe for a minute that I could live on my own without help.

Obviously, my dad was correct

History shows that my dad was right. Eight years after he died, I was homeless.

I’m confused, and I don’t know what to think of any of this. If I had known the full truth, would it have made any difference? was I fated to be homeless for almost three years?

Would knowing have changed things?

I wonder if I would have been kinder to myself. More forgiving if I had known the truth all those years, years that I struggled to learn and keep a job?

None of this matters now. All the mental health and Learning Disabilities issues came to a head in Minneapolis. I’m on Disability now.

I no longer have to worry about it

I no longer have to worry about getting fired, and I don’t have to hear the whispers of co-workers. Co-workers who thought I was lazy and trying to get out of doing my job.

My life is good now. Every once in a while I think about what might have been. Every once in a while, I wish my parents were still alive so I could ask them questions.

Final Thought:

Worrying about the past is fruitless. Forgive your parents. They were human and did the best they could, and if the thoughts and memories get too much, write about them. You will feel so much better after you get it out of your system.

The Day I Learned Something new about Myself
And it wasn’t a surprisemedium.com

My Most Viewed Stories Since I Began Writing on Medium
The top eleven in my writing portfoliomedium.com

https://ko-fi.com/lawsonwallace54054

lawsonthewriter1@GMail.com

My Background and My Goals as a Writer

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

A little about me and what I hope to accomplish

Author’s personal photo

My name’s Lawson Wallace, I’m a 63-year-old married man. I live in South Carolina with my wife Olivia. A woman I met on Facebook. I’m the oldest son of an Air Force Enlisted man. I write on Medium.com and I’m a senior editor for Illumination Integrated Publications.

My dad’s duties in the Air Force required a lot of travel. We lived all over the States, and we spent quite a bit of time in Japan. I graduated from high school at Yokota Air Force Base.

We lived all over the Country. We also spent time in Japan.

The traveling continued after my family moved back to the States. I’m hoping I will stay in South Carolina for a long time, but I will not lose sleep if I have to move someday.

I’m on Disability, so I have a lot of time to write when my wife allows it. My goals as a writer are, to make a living with my words. I make enough writing on Medium to buy a book for my Kindle every month.

I want to use Medium to pivot into new writing gigs.

I would like to pivot away from Medium and make money with other platforms. That’s why I have a Substack newsletter and a YouTube channel where I talk about my writing.

The ultimate goal is exposure, I want writing gigs, I know I can be an asset, and I need to find clients that I will be a good fit with. I’m confident I will do that.

In no particular order, here are my top twenty stories

I’m not afraid to document my mistakes. I have submitted my writing to magazines, only to get rejection letters. I ordered The Writer’s Market, I looked through it and found out why my writing was rejected. I wrote a story about it.

The 2023 Writer’s Market Arrived in the Mail, and No Wonder My First Short Story Submission ended…
Writing is about gaining and using knowledgemedium.com

Sometimes, I voice strong opinions, this story is a commentary on current events. It received a lot of views and reads. It shows that commenting on controversial topics pays off.

Drag Queen Story Hour Is Disgusting, and No Way Should Children Be Exposed to It
Let kids be kidsmedium.com

I’m White, and I’m married to a Black woman. We have a good relationship. I write about our lives sometimes. Whenever I write about our marriage, the stories do quite well

I am a White Man She is a Black Woman We Get Along Fantastic
We have both learned Diplomacymedium.com

This is a story I’m proud of, I was accepted as a writer for The Writing Cooperative. This was the first, and so far, the only story I have submitted to them. It was accepted right away. It’s one of my favorite stories.

I Had Wanted to Write, Working at Bus Terminals Inspired Me to Do That
The beginning of an ongoing journeywritingcooperative.com

I live in a delightful apartment complex. The neighbors feel the need to slam their doors as hard as they can. There are other issues with the neighbors, so I’m sure there will be other stories written.

Slamming your apartment door is important, I need to know you’re coming and going at all times
Rude and clueless people annoy memedium.com

I was homeless for almost three years. I write about the experience often. This is one of my most-read stories about that time in my life.

If You Give a Homeless Person Twenty Bucks, Don’t Expect Him to Go to Burger King
You’re paying for a liquid lunchmedium.com

One of my earlier stories, and it’s the first story that had a lot of views and reads. I still think about that job over twenty years later.

I Worked at the Largest Low Income Community in St. Petersburg
It was Funmedium.com

My most well-received stories come out when I allow myself to be vulnerable. I wrote this story to get something off my chest that had been eating at me for a while. I felt much better after writing it.

IT Might be truth but it;s not my truth
You can rise above itmedium.com

When I was a kid, I and my family lived in Japan for a number of years. My dad was stationed there twice. During our first tour there, my parents moonlighted as English teachers. We became friends with a lot of Japanese people. We had opportunities to go to Japanese bathhouses on occasion.

A Hairy White Teenager in a Japanese Bathhouse
Lawson Wallacemedium.com

Not only am I married to a black woman, but she’s also a lot shorter than I am. Even though we live in the American South, we haven’t had too many issues, although there have been some funny moments.

The Looks My Wife and I Get When We Are Out in Public
We laugh about itmedium.com

I’m a little rough around the edges, and I have a problem with overly-sensitive crybabies. I wrote this story to express my disdain for “The Woke.”

You’re not “ Woke,” You’re Weak and Pathetic, so Grow Up
Have a sense of humor and consider the sourcemedium.com

Another story that received a lot of comments. I don’t see the logic in dragging down rich people. Rich people create businesses that employ people like me. Dragging them down will not lift anyone up.

No, The Rich don’t have an obligation to Take Care of Homeless People
Achievement is not a crimemedium.com

An early story that received a few reads. I started to write more personal stories. Those stories do well, but they are painful to write.

I am stronger than I thought I was
And so are youmedium.com

Another angry story. Census takers are still knocking on my door to this day. They ask the same questions and get the same answers. I have filled out and sent three completed census forms, but they can’t figure that out yet.

Is the Census Bureau Government at its Finest?
I hope notmedium.com

Let me start off by saying that I didn’t go outside until the cops and ambulance left the scene. I have enough sense not to go outside when there’s a gunfight in front of my apartment. A badly worded sentence in the story caused confusion.

The Gunfight outside my Window
Or how my wife and I dodged some Bulletsmedium.com

When I was in my late teens-early twenties, I lived with my grandparents for a year, after I left Japan. The house was creepy, to say the least. I shared a true incident of a night that freaked me out.

The house my grandparents lived in
It was a very creepy housemedium.com

Another early story was the first one where I wrote about how I met my wife. It’s short and to the point. I have written several stories about our relationship.

I met my wife the year I became homeless.
It was a day or two before Halloween 2014. I had accepted a Facebook friend request from an African-American who lived…lawsonwallace.medium.com

A story about bad memories coming back to cause pain. This is one of many stories I wrote about being homeless. As the years go by, the memories fade, so I don’t write about as much as I did, but memories and stories return at the oddest times.

Bad Memories Make Great Stories
At least they are worth somethingmedium.com

Homeless shelters can be dangerous places. I tried hard to be invisible, but that didn’t stop close calls from happening. I almost was hurt a few times. I’m fortunate and blessed that I was able to get out of that life.

I Had Two Close Calls at the Homeless Shelter, All Because I Forgot My Own Rules
I didn’t keep my head downmedium.com

If you would like to read more of my stories you can have them delivered to your inbox as soon as they are published.

Get an email whenever Lawson Wallace publishes.
Get an email whenever Lawson Wallace publishes. By signing up, you will create a Medium account if you don’t already…lawsonwallace.medium.com

The Room Upstairs and a Big Mistake

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

Lost in Minneapolis Chapter two: She forgave me for being an Idiot

Photo by MART PRODUCTION from Pexels

My name’s Lawson Wallace. I live in South Carolina with my wife Olivia. My wife has been after me to write a book about when I was homeless and how we met. I decided to publish the book here on Illumination Book Chapters.

The story is true as best as I can remember it. Some things though were blocked out. I have included background from when I was younger for context.

In this chapter: I get a bed upstairs and Olivia and I get to know each other

The Room upstairs

At the time, I had an iPhone. The carrier had discontinued service because they wanted me to pay my bill for some reason. There was a payphone on the floor; Olivia had texted me her cellphone number; one afternoon, I called her.

It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I stopped in front of the phone and picked up the receiver, and started dropping quarters into the slot. We talked until I ran out of quarters.

WIFI is a beautiful thing

“Wait a minute.” I was sitting on the bunk and in front of my laptop; when Olivia messaged me. “You have an iPhone, and you have WIFI, right?” I confirmed that I did have both of those.

“We can talk on our phones over WIFI.” I shook my head and smiled ruefully. I gave her my number, and she called me.

Why didn’t I think of that?

Once we started talking, we talked all the time. The only problem I had was finding an outlet to keep my phone charged. After a few weeks of talking on the phone, Olivia started sending me money.

Olivia was concerned about me

I was supposed to be receiving GA and food stamps, but somehow that didn’t happen. Olivia was concerned, that’s why she started sending me money that somehow rarely made it past the shelter mailbox.

“There’s a post office around the block from the shelter,” I told her one day. She asked me for the address and phone number. She wanted to know how much a post office box cost.

I soon had a post box to receive money and whatever else she wanted to send me. I sent her a picture, and she decided I needed a haircut. This led to an embarrassing incident, or as I like to call a bone-head move.

For a smart guy, I do incredibly dumb things

I was staying with these people, it was an uncomfortable situation, so I stayed in the basement as much as possible. I spent a lot of time on my laptop. It was around this time that someone had hacked some celebrity computers.

Thousands of hours of sex videos and nude pictures of these celebrities were online for the world to see. I couldn’t resist the chance to see Kate Upton and other attractive stars naked.

I was proud of my first haircut in months

What I didn’t realize was, the MacBook saved all those pictures to my hard drive. While I was upstairs, Olivia sent me the money to get a haircut. One of my roommates took me to a haircutting place in Nicollet Mall.

I heard about the skyway, but I never thought about exploring it. My roommate led me through it to the mall. The skyway is an interlinked closed pedestrian footbridge that connects nine and a half miles of Downtown Minneapolis.

To say that Olivia was pissed is an understatement

I got my haircut and excitedly headed back to the shelter, I wanted to show Olivia my new haircut. I sat on the bed and powered up the MacBook and used the camera and took a selfie, then I sent a photo.

I realized a second too late, that I sent the nude photo of Kate Upton. “Fuck, Shit, no, no,” I repeated aloud as I frantically pounded on the keys of the MacBook. It was no use. I waited with my blood pressure escalating for the call that came seconds later.

She forgave me, Thank God

“I’m so sorry Olivia, please, I’m so sorry.” I waited for her response, silently pleading that she wouldn’t dump me. She started to talk, she was calm, but her voice could have frozen the Lake of Fire.

“I don’t know why you sent that to me, but I forgive you.” I calmed down a bit, but I wondered what she would say next. “Forget about it.” She said, her voice thawing a little.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” She said. We talked a few more minutes, when we finished the call, I went through the MacBook and deleted everything that was remotely objectionable.

We laugh about it now

We still talk about the picture incident, but she doesn’t find it as funny as I do now. At the time it wasn’t funny at all. There were other incidents where we had words, but the picture incident was the worst.

The Housing people found me a place to live

I spent Christmas and New Year’s upstairs, I didn’t know it at the time, but the next stage of my life as a homeless person was about to begin.

The housing Lady had sent me to three or four places to see if they would accept me, the last place she sent me accepted my application.

My Mom Thought There Was a Program or Class That Would Help Me, but She Was Wrong

Posted on by under Writing and creativity

I wasted a lot of time and lost all my self-esteem

The help came from inside of me, not a program

I was so excited that night. I graduated from high school six months earlier. I got the nerve to do what a lot of kids did. I went back to the States ahead of my family. It didn’t last. A year and a half after my family returned to the States, I came home with my tail between my legs.

I was living with my grandparents before I moved back with my family. While I was living with them they encouraged me to get into a Federal jobs Program. It was the first of many programs my family pushed me into.

Was it Learning Disabilities, or was it a character flaw?

“ You need help because you’re brain damaged and Dyslexic, you can’t help it.” Mom and Dad said that in so many words. To be honest, I don’t know what to believe. Is it Learning Disabilities, or Brain damage? I know I’m Dyslexic, but a lot of people have Dyslexia and are successful.

The job program in Denver placed me in a warehouse. Taxpayers paid us to work in the warehouse when we weren’t drinking and getting high. My family ended up in Texas. Mom came and got me and my brother who was going to School in Boulder.

Another State, another program, still no success

Mom and Dad decided that Vocational Rehabilitation was what I needed. Testing confirmed that I had poor hand-eye coordination and spatial issues. The logical thing to do, the class that would be a perfect fit was a meat cutting class.

How I got through that class with all my fingers is a miracle. The not-surprising thing was that I completed another taxpayer-funded program. A program to learn meat cutting and I didn’t know how to cut meat.

I went my whole adult life without learning a marketable skill

I was in and out of jobs after that. My family moved to Florida. You guessed it. My parents pressured me into another Vocational Rehabilitation Program. I did so well in that program I was offered a job.

That didn’t work out, of course, it didn’t. Mom and Dad had a sit-down with me. I was told to get a security guard job. A lot of this I have written about before. I have been thinking a lot about those programs.

All those classes and programs were doomed to failure

There was never going to be any program, no class, or anything else that was going to break the cycle of failure. The only thing that would have saved me was finding what I was good at when I was young and working for it.

“Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he.”

Proverbs 29:18

I had no plan. There was no vision for the future and no course of action. I started with all the faith and confidence in the world only to lose it all. The problem was that I wanted everything too soon.

Chronological age has nothing to do with maturity

I thought I was a mature adult when I was in my late teens and twenties. I wasn’t. If I had maturity I would have had a plan before I left home. I would have been self-aware. I would have realized that I needed a plan and a vision.

I wanted to leave home for the sake of leaving. I should have stayed with my family. If I had taken it slow I might have built the life skills and confidence to live as an adult. The way things happened stunted my maturity and emotional growth.

I would have a lot to say if I was in front of a classroom

If I was giving a talk in a Remedial class of school students I would encourage them to not try to grow up too fast. I would tell them to find their passion and gift early. Develop it and have a plan for their life.

If I had had the dream fully formed of being a writer as far back as grade school I could have worked for it from the start. The Bible says in the Book of Proverbs, “ Without a vision my people perish.”

I have a vision now. I turned sixty-four this past November. I’m progressing in my life with my writing and my YouTube channel. It will not be long until I’m a guest on Podcasts, Radio, and TV. Those things are possible because I believe in myself now after a lifetime of beatdowns.

It could have happened sooner if I had a vision for my life and worked for it at a younger age.

Final Thought:

Classes and programs might help you if you’re neuro-divergent. The best thing you can do is have a vision for your future. Once you have the vision you will have to fight resistance every step of the way. Please don’t wait until you’re in you’re sixties to be doing what you should have been doing for years.

You deserve to be happy.

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