I had some developmental challenges and was never diagnosed with a genetic condition that is a whole spectrum of things these days. But back in those days there was no support for this. (If you're wondering why I'm tap-dancing around a particular word, I am really trying to keep out of the radar of Bobby Brainworm.)
And this brings us to the "Broom Story".
Back when my mother was working in nursing and saw that I didn't develop the same as others, she took me to developmental psychiatrists. In the 70's this was ancient square-block-round-hole stuff. Considerably more primitive, and less friendly than what we have these days.
So, they do their testing, and come back to my mom with the results.
Psychs: "Your son is not a genius."
Mom: "Okay, well what are his prospects?"
Psychs: "He will be good for nothing more than pushing a broom.":
Mom, thankfully, didn't accept that diagnosis and rather than put me in the "Macaroni Holding Pens" (my name for special ed classes in the 70's) she let me literally fail my way through school. I was formally diagnosed with ADHD during that time but "Omg! They're giving our kids SPEED!" so I wasn't medicated or treated.
Eventually I learned, and found computers - which made MUCH more sense to me than people. This led to a career in I/T, and the rest of my life. (As up and down as it has been so far.)
Between some SA from the Catholic church, to married with a special-needs child of my own, to my wife eventually stepping away from the cancer battlefield in 2022, I've managed to not get completely ground up into little pieces enough so I chose to bury myself.
I'm kinda proud of that to be honest.
Now, my only profession is keeping care of my daughter as she cannot care for herself. It's not that I don't do other things, but that's the main one.
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