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

Being Manic is Ok, Right?

 I got a couple of hours of sleep and then bounced out of bed with a ton of energy and a million ideas. I know I'm going manic because I've been here a thousand times and it's been trying to take control the past couple of days. All the signs are there and I don't ignore them anymore. Instead, I thought I would use this as an opportunity to let you in on what I experience. Maybe it will help someone along the way.

The first sign for me is my speech. I can't talk fast enough. I have so many ideas and thoughts whirling thru my head like a tornado of incoherency and lucidity fighting for control that i need to get it out as fast as I can before I forget everything I wanted to say. It's hard to sit idle during conversations because I just want to talk. And talk. And talk. You don't need to because I have it under control.

Next comes impulse control. That ranges from saying things nobody should ever say in private let alone public. It kind of ties in with the whole speech thing. It becomes a thought straight to verbal before my brain can yell "Nope. Don't say that. Ever." The really dangerous thing about lack of impulse control is spending money. I want to buy everything my heart has ever desired and then everything it has never desired. I start looking at the dumbest shit on Amazon. You never know when you'll need an office sized L shaped computer and writing desk in the living room of your apartment even though you already own a perfectly fine writing desk. But isn't L shaped and it wont take up your entire living room so is it really that fine? I can only wear one watch band at a time but owning 15 is better. 6 TB of storage for the PS5 is amazing but so is a 12. I need a different soap for every day of the month so i always smell fresh with matching underarm deodorant. My buddy just bought a desktop gaming PC and I know I just got a really nice gaming laptop a few weeks ago but it would look better sitting next to a desktop. Because I can only use one at a time doesn't figure into the equation. Luckily, I have bought none of these but they're sitting in my 'save for later' in my Amazon account. We'll get to that in a minute.

Irritability and grandiose ideas. I love being manic because of all these brilliant ideas I have (can't you tell so far?) and when I'm hyper-focused on something I find important it irritates me that you don't find it as important. When I vocalize the grandest idea in human existence, I struggle with the fact that you are too lucid to understand the importance of what I'm saying. Why must you speak common sense to the amazing Ryan Sullivan when I've just told you I am going to be a best selling author that's never written a book? No I have not ever directed a movie but mine will be a blockbuster so why do you keep asking stupid questions? I love my job so I should quit. I just asked that question 3.2 seconds ago but you haven't answered yet so screw you. I think you get the idea.

The good thing about dealing with bipolar for the past 30 years give or take is I've become pretty self-aware. I watch for my own red flags. The warning signs. So when I say I put all that stuff in my 'save for later' list on Amazon it's because I have taught myself that putting it there is just as satisfying as actually purchasing them. Plus it's a good laugh when I come off my mania to look at all the crazy stuff I put in there. I have learned to listen to myself talk and at what speed so I know mania is a coming. I gauge my irritability against would that irritate anyone or just Manic Ryan. I have spent many times broke as a joke because of mania. I have embarrassed myself with the claims of fame during mania. I have hurt feelings and destroyed relationships because of mania.

Mania is always described as almost euphoric and trust me it can be. But that only applies to me and I forget that sometimes. So when my level isn't matched I actually wonder what your problem is while you're wondering what the hell my problem is. Luckily those close to me have learned this is as much a part of me as my beard was until I had to shave it off because I wasn't patient enough to wait for Joe to make it look amazing as always. I really am fortunate. Not everyone is.

So what I'm saying is I'm not asking for a free pass to act however I want but maybe a little slack here and there isn't too much to ask. On the flip side, holding me accountable with kindness is a must because I refuse to use my bipolar as an excuse to not be a good person. So I'm going to fake shop, not start my best selling novel while not directing a blockbuster and have speed conversations with myself until it's time to go to work. I know this about myself. I'm proud of myself for knowing this about myself and for fighting like hell with Manic Ryan to not destroy everything he's worked hard to obtain. So I'll wait patiently to take my meds, shower and go to work because I've been blessed with another day-bipolar and all.

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

Manic

I can
Do anything
Flying high
No lows
Top of the
World
Manic
Controlled chaos
Or uncontrolled
Stability
Makes no sense
But I've never
Had more clarity

I can taste
Colors
And feel
Words
I can solve
Life's equations
I can write
Epic poems
While living
A
Life
Worthy
Of being documented

I'm all important
I'm big words
In a small town
Or so
I think
Maybe that's a
Joke
But i think
Not at the time
While thinking how
Embarrassed
I'll eventually be

It doesn't last
Like all
Good things
It comes to
An end
Deal with the
Damage
The idiot
Inside the
Manic me
That's always
Fighting
To stay