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.

I would like to tell you a love story.  I met my husband 4 years ago.  He was taking care of his Bipolar schizoaffective disorder.  We met purely by God’s hand. He was an armed security guard at the teacher’s credit union. 

I was divorced from an abusive man with schizoaffective disorder which I found out five years later after I married him (he was in denial).  I stayed with my ex-husband for 9 years and tried to get him help.  If I had stayed, I probably would not be here. 
       
I met my husband when his mother’s car had radiator problems.  I just happened to go a different way back home. We talked and later we dated. 
 
After a year he told me that he heard voices.  That scared me because I lived with a lunatic for 9 years.  Well he had asked me to marry him and I agreed only if my minister would marriage counsel us.  My husband agreed and he told our minister the problem and suggested his doctor.

My minister was on Prozac for depression.  He went to Garry Penny who is a wonderful Pdoctor who teaches at the university and is a researcher. 

  My husband is ex-drug addict (cocaine).  In fact he ended in rehab and they knew something was wrong and wanted to keep him free of charge 2 weeks more.  At that time period he was afraid that he would be committed in the mental ward (this happened before I met him). 

  His mother and father divorced and he lived with her for over 30 years.  When he was younger he asked his mother if it was normal to hear voices and she said yes.  His father never knew until we married that he was Bipolar. Finally, after 3 years Gary his doctor has found the magic meds that work (Geodon and Lithobid).

  During the period before we were married mother W. decided to take a mental vacation off of her meds.  She had a hard time letting go of her son  and not him letting go of her. My husband for many years took care of her and committed her a few times (several of her mental vacations).  I couldn’t believe that she was doing this before our wedding. I couldn’t believe that two Bipolars were taking care of each other for that many years.

  My husband is the kindest and warmest creature on earth. My mother knows that my mother-in-law has problems but doesn’t know about my husband.  I think better for her not to know for now.

During that period when he was not on medication he tired to commit suicide and cut himself with a can-opener.  After he was older, pure strength on his will and now he controlled his problem. 

He now is doing wonderful and is a wonderful husband. I just thought you would like to her his story.  There are probably more things that he has not told me.

I received my masters degree in music education and research. I hope that this story is not boring to you.