This is Ryan.

Ryan Lee Raney’s story is not simply a story about how he died. It is a story about how he lived, what he carried, what he fought, and the battles so many people face silently every day.

Ryan was exposed to domestic violence at a young age. He witnessed violence between his parents, and although he learned to keep moving forward, the trauma he experienced was never fully resolved. What may have seemed like childhood experiences at the time became wounds that followed him into his late teens and throughout his adult life.

Like many young people who grow up around violence, Ryan developed ways of coping that were not healthy. In his own words, his struggle with addiction began at a young age. He could not have known then that what started as a way of coping would eventually become part of a destructive cycle that followed him through much of his life.

At the heart of Ryan was a man who desperately wanted to be loved.

He wanted connection. He wanted a relationship. He wanted someone to choose him and stay. But Ryan did not always know how to navigate relationships in a healthy way. He carried wounds he did not understand and emotions he did not know how to process. Relationships came and went, often ending in heartbreak, and Ryan continued searching for the love and acceptance he had spent so much of his life longing for.

Then, in 2022, our paths crossed.

I remember opening my door and finding Ryan standing there with flowers, ready to pick me up for dinner. From that day forward, we were nearly inseparable.

For the next four and a half years, we shared an incredible life together. There were so many happy memories, ridiculous moments, adventures, laughter, and ordinary days that I would give anything to have back. Ryan could make me laugh when I did not want to. We dreamed together. We built together. We loved each other deeply.

But our story was complicated.

Alongside the love and happy memories were lies, deceit, addiction, and mental health struggles that I did not fully understand at the time. There were things Ryan was fighting that I could not see, and there were battles he did not know how to explain.

While we were still living in Fort Myers, Ryan accepted a lucrative sales position with Joyce Farms. His work took him to food shows and accounts throughout the country. He was talented at what he did, but the stress and demands of the job increasingly weighed on him.

One day, he came home and essentially said, “That’s it. Get a job in Murphy. We’re moving.”

So I did.

I accepted a position as a Foster Care Supervisor for Graham County in Robbinsville, North Carolina, a neighboring town to Murphy. We packed up our lives and headed into the beautiful Smoky Mountains, excited about a new beginning.

We were two people beginning a new adventure together, hand in hand, believing that perhaps a change of scenery could also mean a change in our lives.

But moving to the mountains did not make Ryan’s struggles disappear.

The stress of his work continued. And something I had naively hoped would happen — the addictions he had struggled with in Southwest Florida simply disappearing — did not happen either.

Ryan also carried anger that had never been dealt with in a healthy way. Over time, that anger spilled into our relationship. The same kind of violence he had witnessed as a child became part of the life we were living as adults.

Eventually, we found ourselves caught in the North Carolina judicial system, both of us trying to navigate circumstances neither of us had ever imagined we would face.

Through all of it, what I wanted most for Ryan was treatment.

I did not want punishment. I wanted help.

I wanted someone to see the person underneath the addiction, the anger, the behaviors, and the mistakes. I wanted Ryan to have the opportunity to address the trauma he had carried for so long and receive treatment for the mental health and addiction issues affecting his life.

Unfortunately, the court case was continued nine times before it was finally resolved. Nearly a year passed.

Ryan eventually received treatment, but it addressed only one part of what he was facing. There was still so much left untreated and unaddressed.

Ryan was living with a dual diagnosis, and the treatment he received was not enough to address the complexity of what he was battling. Unresolved trauma, addiction, mental health struggles, and destructive patterns continued to affect his thoughts, behavior, relationships, and decisions.

On June 9, 2026, Ryan died by suicide.

Those words will forever be difficult to write.

But I also believe that if we are going to change the conversation around suicide, mental illness, trauma, and addiction, we have to be willing to tell the truth.

The Ryan Lee Raney Foundation was born from that belief.

We created this Foundation because Ryan’s story is not unique. Countless people in our communities are carrying childhood trauma, addiction, depression, anxiety, mental illness, anger, shame, and hopelessness. There are families who do not know where to turn. There are people who desperately need help but do not know how to ask for it.

And there are people who are still here who can be reached.

That is where hope begins.

Through the Ryan Lee Raney Foundation, our goal is to bring awareness and education to mental health and suicide prevention, help connect people and families with resources, and support efforts that give people a chance to receive the treatment and help they need.

We want to help create a community where asking for help is not seen as weakness.
Where addiction is met with both compassion and accountability.
Where mental illness is treated as an illness — not a character flaw.
Where trauma is recognized before it becomes a lifetime of pain.
Where families know where to turn.
Where people understand that treatment can change lives.

And where someone who feels there is no way forward can hear one simple message:

You are not alone.

Ryan’s life contained tremendous pain, but it also contained tremendous love, laughter, adventure, and moments that I will carry with me forever.

His story cannot be changed.

But the stories of those who are still here can be.

That is why we will continue telling Ryan’s story.

That is why we will continue having difficult conversations.

That is why we will continue shining a light into places where people are hurting.

And that is why I believe, with everything in me, that Ryan’s life can still save lives.