Ryan's Story

EMAIL Ryan HERE
 

Six years ago, I had everything I could ever want—a happy marriage, a good job and we had just purchased our first home.  Amazingly and unfortunately, in less than a year that drastically changed.
 
I was a military public affairs officer in Texas.  My job required long hours and frequent, long trips away from home.  My first Southwest Asia deployment came on the heals of a four-month training stint on the East Coast.  That marked eight months of our second year of marriage spent apart. 


My wife had a very difficult time handling the time  apart.  She was often inconsolable.  Between work and trying to comfort her, I was under a lot of stress. At some point I became depressed.
 

Then while serving in the Saudi Arabia, I began to feel strange.  Everything difficult became easy.  A multitude of sounds, like the wind, fell into a rhythmic pattern.  Colors, light, numbers and language formed exhilaratingly intricate patterns intertwined by connections, or a common thread of meaning.  I was manic for the first time.
 
Despite embarrassing myself with overzealous, rambling emails, my illness managed to go unnoticed until I arrived home in Texas.  My wife noticed the change in me immediately and had me take a self-test for bipolar disorder.  I answered “yes” to almost every question, but yet I denied that there was anything wrong.  Still, I appeased her by going to the doctor.
 
There wasn’t a psychiatrist on the base, so I went to see a general practice physician. This was the worst mistake I made.  He could tell that I had been under a lot of stress and had been down, so he prescribed me Zoloft. The antidepressant sent my mania through the roof.  A couple of days later, at my protestation, I was hospitalized.
 
My first experience in a military hospital was a memorable one.  I was so paranoid that I thought I was part of a military experiment designed to test my loyalty and/or prepare me for advancement.  I thought doctors and the other patients were actors paid to represent abstract inner feelings of mine.
 

I was in psychosis.
 
I was treated with Ativan originally to calm me down, then Zyprexa or Olanzipine was added and Ativan was dropped.  It’s funny to me, I recall  writing a song praising Zyprexa while I was there.  Little did I know what problems it would cause for me.
 
I entered the hospital at 200 pounds.  Six weeks later I was 240.  Depakote was added to the Zyprexa shortly after leaving the hospital.  With the two weight-gaining drugs tag teaming me, I was nearly  300 pounds before the year was over.
 
 Worst of all, during my time in the hospital I was terrible to my wife. Psychosis caused me to believe that my wife and I were not meant to be together. The reality behind that was, I was bitter at her for sending me to the hospital when I had been so supportive of her.  She told me she would stand behind me no matter what.  I told her I wanted a divorce.   We separated.
 

In the months that followed discharge from the military, my thinking cleared enough that I realized I was making the biggest mistake of my life. But I could not convince her that the manic Ryan did not represent  my true feelings. We divorced in late 2000.
 
I went into a deep depression.  I returned home to the Midwest and immediately went back to work, but the depression and combination of Olanzipine  and Depakote dulled my mind and ruined my concentration.  I slept as much as 16 hours a day during that period, often not bothering to shower or shave before going to work.  For hours I would stare at my computer screen and accomplish nothing.
 
A new doctor led me to Lithium for the first time.  He slowly tapered me off both Olanzipine and Depakote, and in a short time I felt like a new man. I lost 80 pounds to begin approaching my old weight and I felt new energy and drive at the office.  Unfortunately, that proved too good to be  true.
 
By December of 2001, I was experiencing full-blown mania again.  The lithium had not been enough to cap my high moods and they bubbled over.  I was hospitalized for a third time.  Risperidone was added to my med regimen.
 
Over the next three years, we tried Quetiapine (Seroquel), Olanzipine again, Depakote again and Buspirone without success.  I continued to experience frequent manias with intermittent depression.  All told, I went through fourjobs in four different states in just a few years.  Finally, I moved home with my mother, and started going to the local VA hospital for treatment.
 
During that time, we have tried Ziprasidone (Geodon) and Topamax, both without success.  Only in the last few months have my moods stabilized for the first time on a combination of Lithium, Aripiprazole and Lamotrigine.
 
It’s been a long hard road.  After six hospitalizations, lost jobs and damaged relationships, it can take quite a toll on a person.  But I’m on a military pension now, and I have the opportunity and time to find something I want to do.  It’s an opportunity to find real meaning again.  I hope to resume my  career writing and  editing.

 

 
My Crummy & Dysfunctional Life as I Remember It


I am sure it started at birth but since I can’t remember back that far, (I do good to remember everything at the store), I will go back as far as I can.
You may want to get comfortable or even schedule shifts because this could prove to be quite a little venture here if you have the patience to bear with me. If you are like me, (I am nosey and you will finish this story with me, just joking). You will see throughout my story that humor was my survival when all else failed me.
Before I start this story you need to know that I did truly love my mom but I hated the mother she was. She had lots of men and I often got in her way. I was a product of one of those men. I finally met my real father when I was 29years old he died 6 weeks after I met him. Happy reunion huh? Thanks again Mom!
My Mom was a very mentally and physically abusive self centered alcoholic, whore, legalized drug addict, hypochondriac, habitual liar!!!
My first recollection was when I was 3 and this man my mother was living with had these meat hooks (or as he called brat hooks)hanging on the doorways in our house. When I needed to be out of the way he would hang me up on one by my panties. To this day I HATE WEDGIES. That is all I remember of him except he was as tall as a tree and blonde hair. I just knew that I would have a permanent wedgie from those things.
Next man in her life was a bar friend that demanded I stay in my room when he visited which was quite often for long periods of time. This was the first time I have ever seen a naked man. Scary at my age! Mom naked was no picnic either. Neither one of them was centerfold material.
I saw them drink, fall down, fight, kiss, make-up, drink, fight some more, and oh yea the sex (god was that gross). I didn’t understand all the noises whether it was pain or gain. Then I wondered how you could let someone beat the hell out of you then go to bed with them. It was that cycle that happened over and over. Just don’t forget, Mom was 5’ 11”, 180lbs. No lightweight and she did her share of the fighting. It was like she had to have it. Things would be going good and she would start a fight just to make up I thought.
OK, then I guess this man got old to her as so many have.

Along came my step-dad (poor old sole) he was such a good man, or so I thought. He had so many things going for him. 1.Good paying job (owned his own semi-truck)
2. Never been married = naive
3. Never had kids of his own = loving
4.Worshiped my mom = easy to work
5.Liked to drink like my mom = put out money for booze
6.(and the most vulnerable of all) He believed
everything mom told him. =
sucker

Last but not least PUT MOM ON HIS CHECKING ACCOUNT
(MAJOR MISTAKE) = she
left him with nothing
I was 4 or 5, I think, when dad came into my life. He was always on the road so all I can remember is him coming and going all the time until I was about 8-9 yrs. Old and he caught Mom running around when she wrecked the car DUI . I remember he asked me where she was, I told him. He came home to FLA from Ohio and she lied her way out of it. (She had left me by myself for 4 days). He was there when she came back home. He beat the crap out of me for lying on my mother as he called her (I had a better name for her). When he left, she beat me again for telling. Either way ILOST. So at that point I really didn’t care when she came or went and who she did it with.
During the course of the next 5 years I saw the drinking intensify the fights involved knives, hammers, metals bars, pipes whatever they could get their hands on. Not one holiday have we ever spent at home. NOT ONE, I promise you this from the bottom of my heart. We were always at a motel, emergency room, police station, granny’s house, rest area, somewhere. I do however remember just 1 lonely Christmas tree that made it the entire season. Why? Because we went to Granny’s. She was my salvation. God, I miss her so much. I wish I could have died instead of her. She was truly an angel in her own right!!!!
I used to spend my lunch money to write her a letter on Wednesday for her to pick me up on Friday and she and Papa would always be there to get me for the weekend. They would drive about 65-70 miles and say they were just out riding around. They would take me back on Sunday night for school. God I wish she was here now she would save me again. Granny always knew what to say and always had a hug, kiss and an I LoveYou no matter how mean I was! She told me she knew all along I was mean as shit but she still loved me!!! Granny always told me I had tears of a clown because I hid behind a smile.
Granny wherever you are I LOVE YOU and I MISS YOU WITH ALL MY BEING! PLEASE SMILE FOR ME!!!
As I sit here balling my eyes out trying to see this keyboard, I never dreamed it would hurt so much to write this. Where is my humor when I need it most?

Sorry I got sidetracked, Back to my all American family.

It had reached the point that when I walked in if I said hello I said it in the wrong tone and if I didn’t say hello I had my butt on my shoulders.
Either way I was wrong. I have went through so many BEATINGS that I should be
made of Rubbermaid. I have had uncountable black eyes/busted mouths, fractured nose, fractured jaw, busted ear drum, fractured arm/elbow, 2 teeth knocked out on right side, endless amount of bruises
.

When I was 15 and thought I have found LOVE. We wanted to get married later not then, but I got pregnant, Mom, being her lovely self, beat me, kicked me (she weighed180, I weighed 120) needless to say the outcome was miscarriage.
Well after hemorrhaging for 4 days she finally gave in and we went off to her Drs. because he wouldn’t tell of bruises. End result for me was TOTAL 7 MISCARRIAGES DURING YEARS NO KIDS TUBAL LIGATION BECAUSE OF DAMAGE THANKS AGAIN MOM!!!!! She was a real peach wasn’t she. God I hate her so much.
I have had 6 nervous breakdowns because of this and 2 in December 2000 resulting in diagnosis of Bipolar I, OCD and Anti-Social Disorder(Imagine that). But I am alive for whatever good that is sometimes. I will survive I think.
Mom died drunk driving, dad died when he let a lit cigarette fall on a stack of newspapers, he burned to death in mobile home, Granny died from diabetes and Papa just died from broken heart (Dr. could not find reason married to Granny 59 yrs.) I paid for Mom and Dads funerals 9 months apart. Lost all 4 within 2 years. Not a good period in my life. At Mom’s funeral I never cried just looked at her in casket and said You can’t hurt me anymore! and walked out. Dad I buried at Veterans Cemetery, just me there. Granny I lost it and don’t really remember except I begged them not to put her in the ground. Papa just about the same except I knew he wanted to be with Granny.
To shorten this a little so you folks can go on with your life, I picked men JUST LIKE GOODDAD!!!!!!!
Abused but at least waited until I was 42 to get married then 9 months later discovered him on MY desk with MY secretary so he got a divorce, she got an unemployment notice and I got another vacation trip to Psych Unit.

So where am I at now. I have a good man, loves me with Bipolar, (think he loves bipolar too) understands me for me, call myself married but common law only, can’t seem to take that legal plunge, upset that some things still get to me so deeply but if I can keep smiling I will SURVIVE!
Keep Smiling and you too can survive. That is until you start writing your story then you better get your own box of Kleenexes.

 

 

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