A Shaking Bridge to Trust

About the Book

My earliest memory was of feeling out-of-place, offbeat.  I was never a person who was a full participant in life.

I was not a social person at home with my family, and I wasn’t a part of a group of friends at school.

I didn’t relate to my parents.  I believed that they were hurtful:  putting me down, laughing at me.

I didn’t be a part of my own sister, and brother’s, life.  I believed that they hated me, and that they would rather be friendly with each other, and not with me.

I was convinced that no one could be trusted.  I was convinced that life was to be hard for me, and that the world was only a place where conflict happened.  This assertion was because I had a mental illness.  I had chronic schizophrenia.  It was a fearsome problem.  It shaped my life.  It seeped into every aspect of my experience.

This attitude of distrust was extremely destructive for me.  As this feeling grew stronger, my life became smaller and smaller.  As my beliefs grew more intricate, I lost my entire hold on reality.  I existed in my head only; I didn’t sense my surroundings.  I imagined them.

My brain condition made my life almost unbearable.  It made me behave oddly.  It made me an oddball.

I was someone that people would term a loner, or a wallflower.

This character of mine persisted for many years:  until I was 23.  I was diagnosed and medicated that year.

The “meds” were exceptional, remarkable.  The pills prohibited the illness from controlling me.  The pills provided a frame of mind, which I never had before.  I was free from a diseased view of my surroundings.

The medications, however, didn’t erase memories; and they didn’t absolve me of past embarrassments.  I still had those bad consequences from my life as a schizophrenic.

Most of my life has been influenced by my thought disorder.  My relationships were shaped by it; my daily routine was shaped by it; my way of solving problems too was shaped by it.

The illness in total molded me into believing that the world was untrustworthy.  I had the idea that no one could be trusted.  This idea was my life’s theme.  It was what encapsulized my life, and what I had to overcome.  

I needed to trust people.

I had many experiences, before the age of 23, that communicated my outlook.  These experiences showed vividly that I didn’t trust others.  There were experiences that I believe demonstrated how I lost faith, trust.

I included my home life, and some of the life events that happened around it.  I wanted to show that I was very sick; I was so sick—with withdrawal and isolation preferences—that I didn’t ever relate to the people with whom I should be closest:  my family.

I wanted to communicate how barren my life had become.  I had very few friends as a young child; periodically, I would have no one as a friend.  My life revolved around earning good grades, and completing my homework.  This was so for virtually all of my youth.

I spent many hours after school doing homework; I wasn’t assigned much of the work I did.  I did it so I would be very prepared for school each day.

As a grade school student, and later as a high school student, I had a difficult time solving problems.  I was unequipped to be sophisticated at this important, social skill.  I didn’t have enough time as a social being to be successful at problem solving.  I didn’t have the ability to pay attention to my surroundings; I couldn’t learn from others.

My lack of good problem solving skills led to many physical fights throughout my time in school.  I would experience some variety of problems, and didn’t know how to deal with it.  I didn’t know what to do—nonviolently—about it.  I fought many people.

I shared my special experiences at various jobs of mine.  These experiences showed tha

About the Author

Bryan was born in Alaska (1971). He has lived several places while growing up, including Scotland—as his dad was in the Navy. He has a B.A. degree from the University of Baltimore, and a B.S. degree in psychology from the University of Maryland University College. Bryan was a consumer of mental health services from Charles County Freedom Landing—a psychosocial rehabilitation center, located in LaPlata, Maryland—and has been employed there since 1997. He worked as a residential counselor. He played soccer on a team named the “Strays,” and made his home in Southern Maryland. Cover Art by Indy Price