Let's Be Honest

I've had so much emptiness for so long, it shouldn't hurt anymore.

I wrote that in my journal yesterday. You see, I've been described as honest. Honest to a fault. But that's not the truth. Because if I was so honest, honest to a fault, I would lash out when my heart feels broken, with my true feelings of sadness instead of with words meant to destroy and inflict pain. I wouldn't jab with my sharpened tongue to make sure you feel more pain than I can bear alone. I would tell someone my feelings are hurt instead abusing them with words meant to hurt because I feel weak with vulnerability. I would tell people I need them instead of barking that I can walk this world alone. I would say that I feel empty inside because I'm the one that scooped everything out that made me feel raw and threw it away. I would say I'm lonely because I'm so sure that you are going to leave, that the concept of you sticking around forever, is one I can't compute because in my mind nothing lasts forever therefore let me sabotage so I can prove how honest my brain is with me and a heart is for the weak and vulnerable.

I have spent so much of life trying not to feel anything, that I'm responsible for the most damage. I have to accept the most blame. I have to point the finger at myself every day in the mirror. I'm hell bent on not feeling, that I can't admit I feel too much and I don't know how to process it. That I'm the one with feelings of inadequacies therefore you are inadequate. You see, I'm not honest with anyone, including myself, because I lie every single day about how I really feel.

If I'm to be honest, to a fault, I feel sad. I feel guilt. I feel remorse. I feel lost. I feel alone. That I feel exhausted being acquainted with myself. I'm the one I'm so angry with. I wonder if I had been this honest person I claim to be and had told someone how much I needed them, and loved them and appreciated them if we'd still be together? And if not, would I at least only have to deal with the hurt instead of the regret and guilt of things said that can never be unsaid? Would I still have a few of the friends I use to have? Would my family have had to forgive me less times than they've had to? 

I am trying so hard to be a better person. Like John tells me, be a better person today than you were yesterday. So I'm starting with truly being honest. I do want someone to grow old with. I do want to be loved. I do get lonely. I do need friends. I do long for acceptance, especially from myself. I am afraid of dying with more regrets than amazing memories. My feelings do get hurt.

 I love to write. I love poetry and art. I love to game. I love laughing with my buddies in the evening while we're gaming until I can't breathe. I love coffee with my mom. I love trips to Wichita to see my kiddos/little man. I love deep conversations on the porch with John and Ape. I love that Alex calls me to vent or for advice. I love that someone trusted me enough to help them through a rough night. I love the time I had with someone and all the good memories we had while we were together.

You see, I need to learn that just because things don't work out the way I wanted, doesn't mean I can't love the things that did during that time. I can be honest that every day isn't filled with rainbows and unicorns but some days are and they are truly magical. Some days are filled with tears but the ones that are filled with laughter recharge my soul. It's easy to go through a rough patch and convince yourself that everything always has been and always will be complete and utter shit but that's not the truth. My good days, my great days, far surpass my bad ones. It's ok to be honest with myself about that as well.

So my goal is to truly be that honest guy. Honest to a fault. To not only tell those around me that I love them and need them but to learn to love and need myself as well. There are some things that are never going to be and that's ok. There are some things I'm never going to be able to take back or unsay and though that was not ok for me to do some of the things I've done, I can work on never doing those things again. I can learn to forgive myself, ask for forgiveness, ask for help, be vulnerable, be a good friend, be a good partner if there's one in my future, be a good dad, son, brother. 

Last of all, I can be good to myself. That's not going to be easy. I'm going to fail from time to time. But that's ok too because I'm just trying to be a better person today than I was yesterday.

Thank you for letting me be honest with you.

I'm not bipolar-I have bipolar

Ryan M Sullivan

A Thank You to Blue October

 This blog has been a long time in the making. I have to admit I've avoided it because it makes me emotional and thinking about the past can be painful. Thinking of all the horrible things I've done, said and thought, when being honest with myself, can be defeating but it doesn't have to be. I have been put here for a reason and I may not always know that reason but I intend to make the most of it.

The song that slapped me in the face all those years ago was, of course, Hate Me. I'm in the middle of raging alcoholism, a marriage I'm taking for granted and kids that are probably traumatized and embarrassed of their dad that's a hard-working drunk. "The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won't touch again" damn I said that so many times.  I was really good at broken promises. I think that song spoke to me so profoundly because I wanted, needed, everyone to hate me because that was something I understood. God I hated myself. So "Hate me today. Hate me tomorrow. Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you. Hate me in ways, yeah, ways hard to swallow. Hate me so you can finally see what's good for you" I had a new addiction and that was Blue October.

Now I have to admit, after listening to song after song, I was wondering if it's possible to copyright my brain because I swore Justin was listening to my thoughts and writing songs about them. That is how close I related with his music. I felt like he was singing my story. He knew my pain, my fears-my sadness. He understood what it's like to laugh on the outside while screaming on the inside. To appear full of life while wishing I was dead. I had searched in all the wrong places for answers and I swore they were at the bottom of a bottle so I was determined to drink until I found the one with all of the solutions. I'm not saying it doesn't exist but I say the same thing about unicorns as well.

I remember many drunken nights, listening to Blue October, feeling his pain while trying to figure out how to end mine. I wanted it all to go away. I wanted to die. I had done the testing of water type things-cutting, self-harm, completely reckless behavior hoping that would do it but I had never really really attempted suicide. Until I did. I remember being at such peace with it. It was like being in a fog as I drove to the grocery store and bought all the sleeping pills they had. Next stop was the liquor store. I remember spinning the top off of a whisky bottle with one hand while swallowing pills with the other. As I wrote the note that never would've been good enough to explain why I did what I did, I remember them kicking in and I cried. Not because I regretted my decision but because I had finally found the strength to go thru with it. I woke up puking. And I was angrier than I ever have been in my life. I was so bad of a screw-up I couldn't even kill myself.

I've told an extremely limited amount of people about that night. A verse in Black Orchid "Maybe life isn't for everyone" was what I really believed. I believed I was put here by mistake and I was going to fix it. I hear "how selfish" and "how could they do that to us" amongst many many other exclamations against something they can't possibly understand. At that point, I felt the most unselfish thing I could do for those I loved was no longer be here. I felt the only way I could make the pain go away was to die. The only forgiveness there was for my countless sins was to go away so I could ensure, in the only way I felt was possible, never to hurt anyone ever again. 

Why am I telling my story in this way? It's a simple answer really. Stigma. I have fought for not being embarrassed of who I am and that includes the bad parts of Ryan. I'm a ball of bipolar, mental illness, hurts, regrets, anger, guilt and countless other things that luckily include-a hell of a sense of humor, laughter, great friends and family just to name a limited few of all the good parts and things I have. It saddens me that we lose men and women to suicide multiple times a day. Please talk to someone if you are to that point. Please ask for help. 

I think of all the things I would've missed out on. I think of all the things those I love would've missed out on. Saturday morning coffee with my mom. Being a grandpa. Being a dad. Being a brother. Being a brother-in-law. My point in all of this is that moment in time seems insurmountable. Seems impossible. Seems the only answer to a lifetime of questions. It isn't. It really really isn't. I promise you it isn't. 

Call someone. Call anyone. Call the Suicide Hotline (988) I'm begging you. I think back to that night multiple times a week. I think about the ones I know that succeeded and I watch their loved ones left in a constant questioning of where they went wrong. What could they possibly have done to change the outcome. I can only tell you my perspective but I'm thankful I didn't succeed. I am thankful I finally started talking about it. You are not alone. By calling 988 you'll find out just how not alone you really are. I promise.

Now go and listen to "Fear" by Blue October. 

I'm not bipolar-I have bipolar.

Ryan M Sullivan

Today Lasted 365 Days

I'm struggling. Today is tommorow and tomorrow is yesterday. I was doing good, maybe even great, and now here I stand battling the thousands of hours that seem to stand in the way of moving on to a different day. 

I posted a poem I wrote earlier and I feel that's the closest yet I've been able to describe the madness I call my life. I love to say I'm ok because maybe if I say it enough I will be. I'm 43 and I still play the game after all these years but what choice do I have? Succumb to the negative? Believe the feelings I have? Buy into what the voices in my head are selling? So all I feel is madness sometimes and that is starting to feel like the norm. 

I have to worry about what's happening in my head at any given time while worrying about what I'm doing at work and how I'm acting at work. Do you know how exhausting that is because I really don't think the average person does. Then add when I'm not at work. Then add the average person doesn't want to hear my problems even if I want to talk about them so it's easier to say everything is just fucking peachy. 

Once again, I try to write positive things about how I'm kicking bipolar in the ass but this round I'm not winning. I'm backed in a corner and want to throw in the towel. I went to the liquor store and bought a bottle after work. I want numb. I want escape. I'm tired of pills and I'm tired of being me. I'm tired. Period. 

I'm laying in bed not drinking and that pisses me off. I've every intention of getting drunk but just can't. I'm 43. I'm an adult. What's stopping me? Am I going to get grounded? Put in time-out? It's the voices of encouragement past. The feeling of being proud of myself when I hit these dark spots in life and turn away. I know it'll help me escape today but I can't escape tomorrow. 

I don't want this blog to be positive. I want it to be real and this is my reality. I see Derek on Thursday. I don't know what that session will bring but I know I'm going to pour my reality out and let him sort it out because that's what he's good at. Because today I'm struggling and there's still tomorrow left. 

If you're struggling, reach out for help. Call a number, phone a friend, call your therapist. Talk to someone. The positive in this, see there I go, is you are not alone. You. Are. Not. Alone. 

I'm not bipolar-I have bipolar

Ryan M Sullivan

 

Don't Buy What I'm Selling

I should've been a used car salesman. They get a bad rap because they're dishonest. Hence the fact metaphorically I should've been one. I apologize to all the honest used car salesmen.

I am an alcoholic. Plain and simple. No point in mincing words or candy coating it. So as an alcoholic I've gotten good at hiding that fact from those I love. Selling false goods. Using their hope knowing it will cause blindness while listening to me profess how I'm clean and sober while I wait until I can have my next drink. I'm a fake at this point.

I haven't been sober as long as my family thinks I have been. I've gotten lazy at fighting and instead beat myself with the bottle. I've been stressed and have used the proverbial coping skills I've become so talented at. If I could sell it as art I'd be known worldwide. The bad thing is it still didn't help me sleep. I mixed booze with my medication which is a huge no-no in hopes I could sleep. Numb. Forget for awhile. Anything really.

I preach to my kids not to be like me. Keep it under control. You've got an example in front of you where that path leads. But I also teach them to be honest. How hypocritical have I been? The classic do as I say not as I do. I can't expect anything from them if I can't back it up myself. My dad always told me all a man has is his word. I've not kept up with that teaching.

I'm going to screw up and my family has always supported me. They've been there when I've admitted I've drank. So why lie now? What's the point? I'm 41 years old so it's not like I can get grounded. There's zero repercussions they can give me so again why lie?  Because there's been so much disappointment. There's been so much said about how proud they are. Because I write this blog and have come so far with being bipolar that I get cocky and forget I'm still an alcoholic that will take any excuse to drink.

I learned to use it as a coping mechanism at a young age. Then it became a necessity. I see it, smell it, hear about it I'm ready to drink until I fall down. Until I get arrested. Until I hurt those around me. Until everyone is laughing at me instead of with me. I know all of this yet I still want to do it. Every single minute of every single hour sometimes. Most of the time. Maybe always.

So I'm not saying that I won't drink tomorrow or the day after. I'm not saying that I will. What I am saying is I won't lie about it anymore. If I can not be ashamed of being bipolar then I shouldn't be ashamed admitting I have a problem and be honest when it gets the best of me.

I'm sorry for those I've disappointed and lied to. I'm sorry for selling bullshit while trying to convince you it's a diamond. I at least owe you all that.

I'm not bipolar-I have bipolar
R. M. Sully

Why Do I Do This?

So i drank Friday night because, you know, I'm pretty successful at being a social drinker and it carried into Saturday and Sunday. It's called a bender and i bent until i broke. So why do i do this?

I wish i had an answer to that question other than I'm an alcoholic that prefers to self-medicate than swallow tiny pills that i didn't even give a chance to work.

I'm seeing a new guy for my meds and he's amazing. I was super excited after meeting with him on Wednesday and felt that i had finally made a proactive decision towards getting a handle on my bipolar and instead i sabotaged my own good decision. I even said i wasn't going to drink on Friday but that's exactly what i did so then i couldn't take my meds. So i stressed out which led to the extracurricular auditory i deal with so my answer to that was i can't take my pills so I'll drink more. I don't have good logic on a sober day so it was out the window Saturday morning. Same with Sunday. I finally decided i wasn't doing this today. Not today. I'm better than this.

So I'm sober and I'm going back on my meds. I started them late last night after the booze had worn off because i told myself on meds equals no drinking and i confirmed that decision today by not drinking. Tomorrow is a new day that i can make that decision but I'm focused on today and i chose not to drink. I'm proud of myself. It may not seem like a big deal to some but it's huge to me. I said no. I said I'm better than this and i proved it by not drinking. I made that decision and I'm glad i did. My daughter, Corynne, told me i was a good man and i showed today that she's telling the truth. Damn right I'm proud of that.

I'm not bipolar-I have bipolar
R. M. Sully