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

Am I Alone or Just Lonely?

​I’ve thought about this quite a few times…am I alone or just lonely? There’s a big difference and here’s what I’ve come up with and I think we’ve all been here at one point or another in our life and if not, then I am envious of your luck. 

I think it is easy to fall into the trap of ‘I’m all alone’. I know I’ve said it before. Or I feel so alone. But if I’m to be honest with myself I’m not. I know I’m not because of that word ‘feel’ before it. I’m feeling feelings that I don’t like to feel so I escalate it to the extreme because now I can try to view it as an absolute instead of an emotion. Bear with me, I’ll try to make sense. 

I know I’m not alone because at any given time I can drive to my mom’s house for a cup of coffee or at the very minimum talk to her on the phone. I can call my kiddos, my brother, Maria, nieces and the couple of people I consider close friends. My point is, that’s not called alone. I am fortunate that I have a very loving and understanding family surrounding me. I am fortunate to have a couple of very dear friends. I am the furthest thing from alone. But you know what I am?

I’m lonely. And not just any kind of lonely if I want to be honest. I’m lonely for the kind of things I see other’s have. Example: I was gone for a conference for three days and I miss that feeling of someone being excited for me to be back. Someone missing my presence for three days. I think my PS5 and Xbox missed me or maybe it was the other way around but that good old fashioned feeling of being wanted, needed, missed. There’s nothing wrong with being single and it’s better than being in a relationship where you still feel lonely but deep down, no matter how much I deny it, I want someone on an emotional level. I want that thing that I see everyone else is lucky enough to have. And the lack of that thing is called loneliness. But I’m not alone. 

I have no idea if I’m making any sense whatsoever and if you’re going what the hell is this guy talking about that’s ok. Because this is my therapy session I’m holding for myself, reminding myself,  that there’s a huge difference between being alone and feeling lonely. 

I have a habit of my brain processing feelings as the end all be all. As extremes. And while I’m being honest, as pity parties. I start turning sometimes into always. I start using the word never. I start feeling sorry for myself because I’m all alone. No I’m not. I feel lonely and that's a valid feeling but feelings are yucky so let’s use a different word. 

So at the end of the day, I can take comfort in the fact that no matter how lonely I feel at times I am still NEVER alone. That’s a powerful thing my friends. Do I want someone special in my life that thinks I’m someone special in their life? I’d be a liar if I said anything but yes. Will it happen? I mean have you seen this sexy beard and dad bod thing I have going on? Who knows but I do have the guarantee of never ever being alone. And that’s priceless. 

I’m not bipolar-I have bipolar

Ryan M. Sullivan