Drug and alcohol addiction and abuse. Recognition. Prevention. Treatment

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Ryan’s Story

Ryan Mann-Jackson, a.k.a. "Techman" 1975 - 2002

Security Alarm System and Surveillance System Technician

By Kerry L. Jackson, Ryan's Mom,
Adapted from the published version in VISIONS: BC's Mental Health and Addictions Journal, Suicide Issue, Vol. 2 no. 7, page 23, November, 2005

My son Ryan came to a tragic end by suicide on January 13, 2002—just 12 days shy of his 27th birthday. He was, by that time, suffering from crystal methamphetamine addiction and drug-induced bipolar episodes.

As his mother, I was devastated—and nearly lost my own life. My physical health deteriorated so badly, in large part due to the stress of trying unsuccessfully for 10 months to find effective help for my son, and I had a few suicidal thoughts of my own. No parent should have to endure the anguish and helplessness I experienced—there was so little support provided for the family.

As a child and adolescent, Ryan had always seemed happy. He was a compassionate and gentle soul who loved babies, kids and cats, acting goofy, and who had many friends. His favorite pastimes included sophisticated mechanical and electronic building toys, snow skiing, skateboarding and remote-controlled model racecars.

Ryan excelled in math and science, and wanted to go into robotics and eventually become an astronaut. Mild inabilities in focusing, reading and writing, however, had always held him back in school. In grade four Ryan was assessed as possibly having attention deficit disorder (ADD)—these were the early days of ADD recognition in the health field.

I was encouraged to seek parenting skills training, since at that time poor parenting technique was exclusively considered to be the cause of ADD. In spite of my improved parenting methods, however, Ryan continued to become more difficult to handle at home and at school, where year after year he fell through the cracks as a borderline case.

I eventually came to suspect that his problems may have been due to losses and injuries he’d suffered in early childhood: the loss of his dad at two years of age, a couple of head injuries to his forehead not long after, and sexual molestation by a babysitter at age four.

At all of these critical times we were not advised of his need for a specialized health professional*. Through art and play therapy we could have ensured his self-esteem would stay strong. Unfortunately, acquired mild traumatic head injuries, a.k.a. closed head traumas, in very young children were not considered a threat in those days.

Ryan and I did go for private counseling several times during his pre-adolescence and teens to help him with his acting-out behavior and school performance, but he would not continue when the time came for him to go without me.

In grade nine after the loss of his step-dad, Ryan began to smoke marijuana, and to drink alcohol—bingeing on occasion. This led to skipping classes and eventually transferring to a string of alternate schools. He never finished grade 11, although he attempted his GED in his early 20s.

Ryan seemed to have trouble with organization and self-discipline, in spite of a genuine desire to make his dreams a reality. I now understand these traits, which he’d had as far back as I can remember, as probable indicators of frontal lobe brain injury, a condition still confused with ADD/ADHD due to so many common symptoms.

He’d had two mild-to moderate accidental head traumas to the center of his forehead at two and a half. His poor executive decision-making, lack of impulse/emotional control, stubbornness and hampered follow-through capability may have originated with these early head traumas. This could also explain his early school performance difficulties and inability to complete counseling, mentioned earlier.

Ryan’s recreational use of marijuana and alcohol (and possibly crystal meth) continued until, at age 22, he cleaned himself up, only to go into a suicidal spell. No suicide attempt was made. I was able to help him that time, as I had taken crisis line training and recognized his statement, “Don’t blame yourself, Mom, if anything happens to me,” as a warning sign. I also sponsored an excellent private counselor for him.

The following year Ryan remained drug-free, gainfully employed and blissfully in love in his first real relationship. I had such high hopes—at last he seemed to have it all together.

His girlfriend, however, left him sometime in 1999 (he was 24), and he began to self-medicate his broken heart with marijuana and, unbeknownst to me, crystal meth. I‘ve often wondered whether he would have made it through this without drugs if he had stayed with his last counselor and learned healthy ways to cope with loss.

In the next couple of years, Ryan’s work suffered as his drug use gradually impacted his performance. To meet the demands of his ongoing part-time self-employment as a security and surveillance systems installer, he needed to build a large inventory of wireless remote video cameras; no one was yet marketing this technology, and he saw a window of opportunity for internet sales.

Unfortunately, Ryan began using crystal meth to help him get through long hours of work. As he became more dependent on it, his judgment and productivity suffered. At this same time he lost his roommate, got behind in his rent, and was soon evicted from his apartment—he was a day too late with funds our family had loaned him.

On March 1, 2001, at 26, Ryan moved into a house occupied by several crystal meth addicts. I’m not sure he was aware of this initially—it was all he could find on short notice—but within a week he became addicted...so severely and quickly he could no longer keep it secret from me. He started calling me in terror and desperation. Eventually I suspected they had laced the cigarettes and pot he was bumming from them...smoking it being the fastest way to become addicted.

Ryan’s decline was rapid: a first psychotic break on April 28, possessions stolen while in hospital, couch hopping, sexual recruitment/exploitation, sleeping under a bridge, whereabouts unknown for periods, in and out of hospital with three more psychotic episodes, one-room hotels between hospital admittances, and the final decision to end it all—all this occurred within 10 months of his first cries for help.

I tried frantically to get him help upon receiving those first terrifying phone calls, but he changed his mind so fast I couldn’t catch him in time. He was convinced that a detoxification program would “reprogram my brain.”

And then there was the law, requiring that he first become a danger to himself or another before he could be forced into treatment. And so it was that when he became psychotic on two occasions, found running in and out of heavy traffic, or when he tore up his shower stall, yelling threats and scaring his neighbors, he was finally admitted to hospital.

For Christmas 2001, prior to his final hospital discharge on New Years Day, Ryan was granted a day-and-a-half pass to come home. He certainly wasn’t his usual jovial self.

I have since wondered whether seeing us and how much he had lost had prompted him to make one last attempt to regain a drug-free life.

When he was discharged on New Year’s Eve, Ryan didn’t take his medications, and later, didn’t pick them up from the pharmacy; nor did he keep his January 3rd outpatient appointment. On January 10th he told two community mental health outreach workers, and me, that he had stopped his meds, was attending Narcotics Anonymous, and didn’t need help. Based on the outreach workers’ assessment—Ryan was pleasant, his speech was clear, and he was clean and well nourished when they visited—the community mental health agency closed his file.²

Three days later, having only a trace of lithium in his blood² Ryan swan-dove off the Cambie Street Bridge to the cement 30 feet below, dying instantly of a massive head trauma. The police report recorded his last words to a woman who tried to coax him down from the railing (bless her heart): “I’m breaking down at the cellular level… Is it going to hurt?”

I’ve since learned that when someone who is bipolar is coming out of depression, they are at the highest risk for suicide. Suddenly stopping antidepressants and/or lithium can also cause suicidality. And the horrific crystal meth withdrawal symptoms remain for a long time, even after the drug becomes undetectable in the blood and tissues. Evidence in Ryan's room suggested to us that he had been trying to detoxify on his own.

Sadly, for Ryan and for those who knew and loved him, his ‘hitting bottom’ was his final bottom.

* I wish to state that in no way do I hold any institution or professional responsible for Ryan's early health conditions and eventual demise. I understand that everyone did their very best for him within the confines of their professions, and within the confines of the law during his battle with drugs and induced mental illness. I thank you all for your efforts and support you in your valuable work.

Footnotes:

1. “Methamphetamine and Psychosis” PowerPoint presentation cell 32. Courtesy of Dr. Bill MacEwan, MD, FRCPC, Director of the Schizophrenia Program in the UBC Department of Psychiatry, and Clinical Director of the South Fraser Early Psychosis Initiative.

2. From the Coroner’s report on Ryan’s death.

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