I believe I know why I became mentally ill.
In my freshman year at Yale I had an intuition about the direction my life would take. I saw myself working in some inner city on behalf of the poor, with my own means totally unprovided for. I carried this into my preparations for a career at Yale, and when I got a job afterwards in an architecture office I continued to pursue this concept, and found no place for it in the profession and went nuts trying to find a place for it.
Today I face this same fate: no means, because my preparation was for no means and it's too late to make other arrangements. I am unable to conceive of anything related to money, so I am unemployable, and my English Transformation Art is not looking like a good sell.