Patrick Dylan - Safe, Wanted, and Loved: A Family Memoir of Mental Illness, Heartbreak, and Hope

Copyright 2021 Patrick Dylan
All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Snow Anselmo Press, Florida
www.safewantedloved.com

Edited and designed by Girl Friday Productions
www.girlfridayproductions.com

Design: Paul Barrett
Project management: Katherine Richards and Laura Dailey

ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-7364172-2-5
ISBN (paperback): 978-1-7364172-1-8
ISBN (ebook): 978-1-7364172-0-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021902606

First edition

For my wife

Thats the stigma. We are so, so, so accepting of any body part breaking down other than our brains. And thats ignorance. Thats pure ignorance.

Kevin Breel, Confessions of a Depressed Comic

Pat, I am going to prison.

My wifes voice woke me from a deep sleep. I opened my eyes. The room was dark; it was too early for her to be awake.

I lay still for a few seconds, listening intently. The eeriness of complete silence began to scare me.

I am going to prison. I am definitely going to prison.

We were staying in the guest room of my parents house, and being so close in the small bed made Mias upright posture more apparent.

What are you talking about, babe? I asked, trying to sound calm but feeling my pulse quicken. What time is it?

I dont know. That doesnt matter. I am going to be arrested.

The certainty of her answer sent my mind reeling. Mia and I had been together for over seventeen years and married for fourteen. She was as straitlaced and by the book as anyone I had ever met. Sure, she had been pulled over for speeding, but the thought of her doing something that would send her to prison was incomprehensible.

Mia, you are starting to scare me. What are you talking about? Her voice sounded different than usual. It was strained and serious. She wasnt joking.

A family came in to see me on Friday. The boy was severely constipated. I told them to change his diet, but I could have done more. I could have prescribed him a stool softener, but I didnt.

Mia worked as a physician assistant for a highly regarded pediatric firm in our hometown of Sarasota, Florida. She had been in practice for over a decade and was trusted by everyone at her work. I had no medical experience, but what she was saying didnt sound right.

What? You cant go to prison for that. You did what you thought was best.

She continued as if she couldnt hear me. It all makes sense now. That family was hired by the doctors to see what my response would be. They must have put a secret camera in the exam room to videotape the whole thing. There must have been several cameras. Oh my God, its all on tape!

Now my heart was racing. I couldnt figure out what she was talking about, but she was clearly in distress. And she was wide-awake, as if she hadnt slept at all.

Calm down, Mia, I said. Im sure that your doctors didnt frame you. You did what you thought was best. No one can send you to prison for that. Thats just... Well, its crazy.

She sat with her back against the wall, staring into the darkness. In all our time together, I had never seen her look like this. She was clearly worried, but she also appeared deep in thought. She looked like she was analyzing a problem from a thousand angles. Her eyes were glazed over, but she wasnt crying. Although she was talking to me, I wasnt sure if she knew I was there.

Mia and I had met as undergraduates at Harvard. She was extremely intelligent. It was one of the things that I found most attractive about her. Mia wasnt just smart, though, she was creative. She had this incredible gift of looking at the world both in the same way that I did but also in ways that I had never considered.

Another reason I fell in love with Mia was her incredible compassion. People could sense immediately that she truly cared about them and what they were saying. She didnt pretend to hear you; she listened. She didnt feign interest; she really wanted to help.

Mias kindness didnt mean that she lacked toughness. On the contrary, she was resilient. We met on the track team. She was a highly recruited long-distance runner, nationally ranked and invited to attend every elite university in the country. You dont string together five-minute miles without having serious determination and grit.

I got accepted to Harvard because I had a knack for pole vaulting. Vaulters are good athletes, usually fast and strong, but they arent known for their determination and grit. Little did I know that on this morning, this darkest of mornings, I would be thrust into a struggle that would severely test my determination and demand all the grit I could muster.

I will never forget the first time I caught sight of Mia. I saw her from across the weight room in Harvards indoor track facility at the beginning of freshman year. She was petite and naturally elegant, with long dark hair that fell below her shoulders. Her slim build and tan skin were complemented by lively brown eyes, outlined by the longest lashes I had ever seen. Her smile captivated me, and I couldnt stop sneaking glances her way. Watching her, I didnt feel like a small-town kid recently transplanted to a big-city college, timid and alone. I felt young and full of hope.

I heard her tell a friend that she was living in a dormitory called Pennypacker. Later that week, I was out on Saturday with my college roommate, George. We were finishing up a late night of party hopping. Tipsy and hungry, he wanted to go for something to eat.

First, lets take a walk through Pennypacker, I suggested. Theres a really cute girl on the track team who lives there. Maybe well run into her.

He thought it was far-fetched, but George was always a good sport. We soon found ourselves wandering the quiet and deserted hallways of the dorm. As we finished walking the last floor, he lost patience.

Can we go now? Im starving! he whined.

Yeah, I guess so, I sighed.

George let out an enthusiastic cry of victory and immediately bounded to the stairwell and slipped out of sight, whooping and hollering. As I neared the bottom of the stairs, I heard him accosting someone. Are you going to eat all of that pizza by yourself?

Umm, the person responded, its for my roommate and me.

You guys cant eat all of that pizza, declared George. Cmon, let us come back to your room and share it with you. Cmon, please? Please!

Okay. I guess you can come back and have a piece of pizza.

I rounded the final staircase, looked onto the scene, and couldnt believe my luck. George was with the very girl whom I wanted to meet!

Mia led us back to her room. Once there, George, animated and loud, focused his attention on her surprised roommate, who wore an increasingly pained expression.

I cant believe he talked you into this, I said, gesturing toward George but marveling at the collection of thick science books sprawled across Mias desk. She was clearly spending her Saturday night much differently than we were.