I've Lost Me: Please Leave A Message

What a year it's been. A lot of good and some bad and when it's good, it's really good. The downside to that is when it's been bad, it's been really bad. I've lost myself somewhere along the way, or I should say, I've lost my edge, my solid ground, my stability mentally. I've shut down and I'm on cruise control. It's still moving so good enough, right?

Start with the good or do I get the bad off my chest? I always try to stay positive on here but sometimes that's easier said than done. Let's start with the bad. What's the worst that could happen? Let's find out...

I quit taking my meds. Like a while ago. Ok like a long time ago. I was cured so what do you want from me?! Then I needed to be able to go without sleep and to have bipolar brain so I could multitask and it just kept snowballing until it was moving too fast to stop and the inevitable happened and I crashed and burned. And I did it at work. That's always fun and neat and super comfortable for everyone involved. I had a panic attack. All the noises became magnified and the sweat started along with the tight chest. My vision tunneled and then the anger started because dealing with the true emotion is stupid so getting angry helps everything always. I ended up in the bathroom on the phone with my wife (yes I got married and yes we'll get to that later) telling her I was going to quit because all I cared about was escaping. I needed to run and I wasn't sure where I just knew it would get me away from there. She told me to go talk to my Supervisor who is like a sister to me and that she would understand. I don't have her permission to use her name so I won't but she is an amazing person and a great friend. Speaking of amazing, Tabbee got me calmed down and off I went. I walked in the door to let S know I was leaving and next thing I know I was crying. Yay. Loved that in so many ways said me never.

The problem I have is I listen to peoples worst day ever every time I work. Death hangs out and monitors the phones ready to interject at a moments notice. Even as a trainee, he whispers in my ear that I can make this a relatable moment and if I would only put myself in the caller's shoes then surely I'll hear my mom's voice if I concentrate hard enough or I'll hear the click of the gun that took my buddy way too soon or the tears of the mom, sister, brother, son, parent, child will wash away the guilt I feel for being glad I'm alive when someone else is not. I am seeing the deceased when I'm not at work and I can hear their voices and all I can do is answer not caring what strangers think but hoping they can hear me and that's a comfort for them. I've lost me. Please leave a message and I'm hoping to get back with you shortly.

So I got married and I love being a husband. She helps me more than anyone could. She has helped me get back on my meds and been supportive with all of this. I can be honest with her about everything and that's refreshing. She didn't look at me crazy when I told her I've been hearing and seeing Justin. She's never made me feel stupid for who or what I am. That's huge. That's love. That's til death do us part.

I'm not sure I'm the super low % of people that can do this job. I do know that I respect and love my coworkers. I can say they never get the recognition they deserve or have earned. I can say that not everyone can do what they do-being a superhero isn't for everyone. I think I'm proof of that. And that's ok.

I'm going to be ok. Maybe not tonight or tomorrow but I will be. I've made it 47 years and I plan on sticking around for more so here's to round whatever the hell it is of starting meds again and finding myself. Thanks for letting me vent and I'll try to write more often. I appreciate each and every one of you...don't forget 988 if you're needing help and 911 is always there for you as well. Either way, there's a superhero on the other end waiting to help.

I'm not bipolar-I have bipolar

Ryan M Sullivan

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

Middle of the Night

 I've been awake half the night because my brain decided we needed to cover my past 45 years of existence and iron out everywhere I've gone wrong in life. It's a shit job but someone has to do it.

I have to admit that I've really started obsessing with my age lately. I'm almost 46 years old and i can't stop thinking that realistically I'm closer to death than not. That there's a good chance that over half my lifespan is gone. That leaves me looking at my past and wondering if it was a life well-spent and how much of it was wasted. I'm not meaning to be weird but I have to type these thoughts out in hope that I can process them instead of obsess upon them.

Past relationships are a constant thought bouncing around in this head of mine and what a waste of life they've been. I think it's because they're a constant reminder of failure. I can fix things with my hands, run a 30 million dollar plant seven days a week, make decisions for the betterment of those around me but I can't do any of that when it comes to my own love and happiness. I can't fix the "forever" part. I can't fix the part of me that seems to make them change their mind. I can troubleshoot problems and come up with answers anywhere else but relationships. I don't accept all of the blame but I'm not doing myself any favors if i refuse to accept any of it either. All I see is a 45 year old man that has spent his life in one waste of time after another and it bothers me. I give up. 

I spend a tremendous amount of time alone and I think it has become an obsession. It's where I find my peace but I also wonder if when my day comes, I'll have any regrets of not having done more. Will I look back and be content with the fact that solitude made me happy enough so good enough? I'm so driven to forget the present by disappearing into the magical world of a video game or some imaginary far off land in a book that I'm left wondering if I missed out on something that could've been a memory that would make me smile at times like this.

It scares me to think how fast 45 years has gone by so how fast will the rest of my life go by? I spent a lot of my adulthood as an alcoholic and the wonderful byproduct of that is I have a lot of memory gaps and I struggle with timelines. So all the years I spent drinking to forget, well, mission accomplished. I think of times and events I missed with my kids that I can never get back.

I've spent so much of my life shutting things out and striving for self-preservation that I've boxed myself in with four walls for company. I know this is rambling and all over the place but I have to get it out. I have to put it on paper so it's made real and has a consistency of something I can see instead of just think. Because I have to be honest that I spend time wondering what has been the point of my life? Was I put here as an example to others as a road map of how to do things wrong so they do it right?

I'm struggling but I'm not giving up. I think we all dive into that dark cloud of the past. I just get stuck there from time to time and it's a fight to get back out. I know I've had amazing things in my life and had many accomplishments but I can't help but think how things could've been different or envy those around me that found their actual "forever". I feel like the givens in life forever evade me while the constants forever haunt me. 

Being bipolar has been a curse I've finally come to terms with but the side effects are exhausting. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't wish I was "normal". Normal means you get the prize. Normal means you get the girl. Normal means you sleep at night. Normal means you don't obsess over every little detail in every little thing. Normal means you don't laugh while crying on the inside. Normal means you don't want to rip out the other personalities fighting for the light every minute of the day inside your head. So when I hear "yeah but what's the definition of normal anyway?" I have a lot of answers to that question.

I needed to get this out of my head and I did. I won't apologize for the mess I made on paper but I will think you for listening to what I had to say. You all have no idea how much you've helped me over the years and I'm forever grateful. I'd better head to the plant I was talking about so I can find my disturbing comfort I seem to get from work. Thank you again.

I'm not bipolar-I have bipolar

Ryan M Sullivan

Sometimes I Really Enjoy My Own Company

I say that not to be full of myself but to be honest. And it's not a bad thing if you ask me, at least in my case, because I have struggled with that very thing for years. Enjoying my own company.

I should clarify and say I struggled to be alone for the right reasons. Anxiety would and still can prevent me from going to a get together or function. Something that sounded fun when I said I would go but then when the time came I couldn't make myself do it. I don't know how many times I would get dressed, walk out the door only to go back inside and feel the safety of locking the door behind me knowing I didn't have to face what was on the other side.

Stress is a huge trigger for me. It starts to make me feel panicky, then anxious, then anger because I can't control the situation which leads to me dumping gasoline and lighting a match to burn the world down around me. If I lock myself in then I don't have to worry about being mean to those around me and I can avoid whatever situation stresses me out. Kinda like the above paragraph but in a bigger level. Avoiding everything that stresses me can be a problem. That locked door becomes a security blanket. It becomes a medication that makes the outside world disappear. That's not healthy.

I journal religiously. Some may say fanatically. I say it's a good thing. Most of the time. It's a really good outlet for me, ways to get the things clogging up my brain out on paper and deal with. The bad part is sometimes that leads to me 'disappearing' altogether and before I know it I haven't had contact with anyone for three days.

So you're wondering why I say I like my own company and that's not a bad thing? Understandable. I say that because I have started going to those things that riddle me with anxiety. I battle that locked door and when I find myself locking it from the outside instead of the inside, that's a battle won. I've started trying to deal with my stress in a healthy manner before it becomes an all consuming rage and a lot of that is talking about it to the right people that give loving and honest feedback with honest solutions. I still journal but I don't allow myself to get lost for hours or days with my thoughts.

I can say I enjoy my own company because that's what I'm doing- enjoying it. I watch movies, read constantly, game on the Xbox One (yes I still love to game), work on my poetry and I write short stories. And speaking of short stories, one that I wrote will be made into a 30 minute short film for a film festival happening later in the year. Yup. You read that right. I refuse to divulge anything else except that John and April will be amazing to work with on this and I'm beyond excited.

So yes, I still have my quirks and triggers and God knows I still have bipolar but it doesn't always have to win. I'm on amazing medication, Joey is an amazing therapist and I have the best family and friends a guy could ask for. So I'm going to enjoy my own company over a cup of coffee before I go face the day. I hope yours is amazing.

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

A Much Needed Break

I'm sorry it's been so long since I've written but i took a much needed break fir awhile. September was full of stress and anxiety and it all added up to me disappearing for awhile.

Don't get me wrong, September wasn't a bad month but i had to get out of my comfort zone a few times and it was harder than i thought it would be. I was the lived experience speaker for Beacon for Hope at the walk held at Jones Park here in Emporia, KS. It was truly an honor to be a part of that but i wasn't expecting the flood of emotions that surfaced while trying to give my talk. I had a 15 minute talk planned and I'm not sure i made it to 5. The support of my family, friends and community still overwhelm me with how accepting and open-armed they are.

So i went charging ahead and did another thing completely out of my comfort level and that was to not only go out of state but to encounter the airport as well. I got on a plane and flew to Denver, Colorado.

I don't know if you've ever been in the airport at Denver but it's like walking Emporia on foot inside a building sizewise. People everywhere, loud and constant commotion. Sensory overload to say the least but i did it. I took the trip so i could do some photography and i wasn't disappointed. The beauty there and the surrounding cities is breathtaking. I will definitely go back.

I think all the excitement took a toll though. I battled a bout of depression last week that lasted a few days but seemed like a lifetime. I eventually shut myself in the house Saturday and Sunday and didn't leave. I ordered pizza so i wouldn't have to leave my house and i slept or attempted to watch movies. I didn't have the attention span or care to journal or read...both things i love to do.

This week has been much better. I feel like myself again and I've made plans with Sarah Sunshine for Saturday and I'm looking forward to a day full of laughing and goofing off. A much needed day of that i must admit.

It sucks going thru the down sides of bipolar but the positive thing for me is i know it's not forever. It feels like forever when I'm going thru it but in the back of my mind i tell myself this too will pass. I try not to dwell on the negative but look forward to when I'll be myself again. I use to let it consume me and i think that lead to my downs lasting longer and negativity to really get it's claws in me. I'm not downplaying how hard bipolar or depression can be at all so please don't get me wrong. I know there's people that constantly struggle and my heart goes out you. I've been lucky enough to finally find a med guy that has me on the right meds at the right dosage and that has helped tremendously. It feels like i was lucky enough to find the needle in the haystack.

So the last month was stressful and out of my comfort zone but do i regret it? Not one bit. I'd do it all over again if given the choice.

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