Almost a quarter of a century ago, I finished my BSc and moved on to do my MSc.

Having a Master’s degree will open so many doors, will offer you endless opportunities of career progression and not only improve your societal status, but your income will skyrocket and before you know it, you will have choices knocking at your door. Heck, that was a no brainer!

What I didn’t know though, was where I would get this amazing job, where I would live and how on earth I would survive on a 2000AD minimum wage?

That, for me, was truly an urban myth for an early twenty-something; that a Master’s degree would change the course of my boring civil service career.

I was truly befuddled about what would really happen.

While putting in the hours of study to finish that degree, there were endless news reels about how Tony Blair was going to let anyone with a serious mental health issue have immediate social housing. For some, this would be a good idea, but for others, we still had the age-old issue of a housing crisis.

New Year for 2000 came and my best friends persuaded me to do maybe a few too many ecstasy pills, and before I knew it, that reality hit me like a lorry.

Halfway through my Master’s course, I would be talking to the walls in my bedroom, concerned the CIA put cocaine in my toothpaste and a serious what the f was going on?!

Taking those pills was a risk indeed and in the long term, kind of paid off. Currently, I am in a warm little flat that is owned by a very kind housing association. Having said that, I do not have a waged income and the streets most definitely have not been paved with gold.

Instead, I have been diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia.

Since 2001, when I was given this diagnosis, life threw a lot of challenges at me, not least the discrimination that has come with it.

I think of my self-proclaimed “woke” family member who has been known to take great pleasure in ripping me to pieces based on the status of me being “A Schizophrenic”.

Oh how only a few years ago, they would endlessly throw that in my face. How they would try to turn people against me by telling them my private diagnosis or even tell me how I could never return to my mother country (USA) as I would just be another “retard”.

Over ten years ago, I established an incredible peer social club which soon became a very successful social enterprise, inviting hundreds of people across London to enjoy free hot meals, endless free cappuccinos, sweets, snacks and hot sandwiches.

A few years later, I found a girl, got married and was put in a situation whereby I had no choice but to apply for paid work.

I was lucky enough to get a job as a support worker at a large homeless hostel in north London.

To this day, I still wonder if my successful application was a tokenism to meet their diversity agenda.

In the application, I stated my diagnosis.

The job was okay. It wasn’t exactly great, but I did the best I could.

A new manager came on board and replaced the old one and we had a chat.

I disclosed my diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia and shortly thereafter, she requested I clear out multiple rooms to void for new residents. Take the guys on long walks across Tower Bridge (many of whom were immobile) and a ton of other things which were certainly not in my job description, but those gut-wrenching tasks piled up.

She micromanaged me and heaped on the pressure, I think she gave me what’s called the Peter Principle: having so many jobs that were so unmanageable that I had to eventually resign… or be dismissed.

And then of course, there were my old friends from university who turned their backs on me because I was “unstable”… as well as the neighbour upstairs who harassed me by giving me all sorts of discriminatory labels.

The discrimination certainly did not stop there. Still to this day in 2024, there is the assumption by so many that I am lazy as I do not have a steady job to pay my rent. Instead, tax payers foot my bills so I can buy expensive takeaways and blow my cash on the horses and daily trips to the pub. None of which are true by the way, but certainly, the underlying insinuation that I am idle as I do not have a full-time paid job does clearly exist.

On the other hand, I do have a stable home now, after having lived in a homeless hostel for some time. Only that the undertow of my life will probably be forever tainted with this discrimination that will be used against me.

Still, I am older, uglier, wiser and bigger than that. I now know that a career type lifestyle is just not feasible, but for sure, there are so many aspects of life where my contributions to my community really are meaningful and relevant.