Ryan Donnelly's Blog

Chapter 1 and 2 Of My Book On My Addiction To Opiates

I have passion for life. A few years ago I was addicted to Oxycodone, and on a mental death bed. Every second of life was horrid and I felt I was left with only one option: suicide. I should be dead, but years later, after the shit storm of reality, I’m not.

I’m not, that’s the reason for this book.
Why? Well I don’t have a concrete answer for that, but I have some ideas. It comes down to facing failure. When you have such high expectations of yourself but you are an excuse maker. And boy I was the KING of excuses. And the only person you truly fool is yourself.

Then comes a time when you’re alone. Completely alone with your thoughts. You look in the mirror and into your own eyes and say, “Who the fuck are you kidding?” You start scratching away at all the cobwebs in your mind. The more you dig, the more the truth comes out of what a coward you have become. And in that moment I made a pledge to myself – I will never settle. And something was lit.

I didn’t find religion, or the greater good. I saw reality looking back at me. And for the first time in my life I was completely free.

See, I am in a place that I never knew existed before. I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me, I realize the truth in situations that before I was blinded by ego. I don’t want to be like anyone else. I’m not worried about meeting a standard of acceptance. “I yam what I yam” as Popeye says, and that’s just it. If you don’t like it, put the book down.

For the majority of my life I felt as though I was capable of doing great things. Held myself to a certain standard. Was intent on being someone special. Well let’s just say that life wanted me to pay my dues first. And when I did pay my dues, I realized that special is bull. It’s false. Special is judging you against another. No one person is special. We are all equal, but it is what we do with our actions that set us apart, that makes us unique.

Your imagination is an interesting thing. I remember being 12, sitting in front of my mirror with my electric guitar lip-synching to Weezer and pretending I was in a band in front of my schoolmates. I was dreaming of being cool, being the center of attention, I wanted to feel “special.” Did I ever learn to play the guitar? No I did not, my imagination let me go off to a magical land and be something I wasn’t, something I wanted to be but was too lazy to go learn to do and make it reality.

I have realized through trial and tribulation that thinking about it isn’t nearly enough. All it actually does is disrupt the present moment. What I’m saying is, when you have a goal that you want to reach, don’t be a 12-year-old boy with an electric guitar, get off your ass and make it happen!

This book is a real life account of my personal story from childhood to now. I will take you through the good, the bad and the extremely ugly instances of my life and show you how they have transformed me into the person I am today. I hope that you can take something from my experiences and use them in your every day life. The fact that you are reading this book means that you’re already getting started. That means the world to me.

Chapter 2

On a beautiful day in May of 1983 I was brought into this earth. Surrounded by loving family and friends I grew into a pretty normal child. I was a quiet baby. Never cried or whimpered, never laughed or squealed, didn’t really make any noise at all. You could say that I was a smiling mute. So much of a mute that my family grew extremely worried that I had some development issues. Time and time again my mother took me to the doctor to see if I had an issue with hearing, if I was mentally disabled, and each time the doc came back saying I was completely healthy. Just wasn’t ready to talk.

Then one day at the age of almost 2-and-a-half I began to speak. Yes you read that right, far behind the normal child I began to speak. My family was so excited that I was speaking but before they got too excited, they realized that when I did speak, I said what I wanted to, named things what I wanted to and it was going to be my way. My sister, whose name is Rachel, would be called Jackie until I turned 7. No one understood why this was then but after 29 years on this planet, I pretty much have finally figured it out. Back then it was always my way. I did things the way I liked them and from an early age I was very selfish.

After we got through the speaking issues, for the most part I was an easy going kid. Always had a big smile on my face, it didn’t take much to keep me occupied and I started to gravitate to sports and being active. Loved being outside riding bikes, getting dirty and playing toy guns, cops and robbers type of games. My neighborhood was a great place to grow up as a child. Middle class suburban area at the Jersey shore. We had the beach 10 minutes away but were far enough to get away from the crowds of North Jersey and New York tourists.

Was never too interested in school. School was more of a place to be social and make friends. I was by no means the smartest kid in the class, but I got through school fairly easily. Never put 100% into it, just coasted along. High school was 4 years of heaven for me. I was being noticed by girls, had a lot of friends, and partied every weekend. The parties back then consisted of a couple 30 packs of beer and someone’s parents vacant house. Everyone would get lit, play drinking games and have innocent fun. Hardly ever did anyone leave, we usually all just slept at the place we were drinking at. A bunch of a good beach kids just having a good time being young.

Even then I noticed I was different then the others. When everyone would wake up the next morning hung over and ready to head home and start their day, I would grab a beer or take a shot and want to do it all over again. At the time I just thought I was a party guy. Thought it was cool. It should have been a dead giveaway that I had some issues with the stuff. That was at the age of 16.

Midway through my senior year I realized that I was not cut out for college. It was February 2001, pre- 9/11 and I thought that I should join the military, get some discipline and earn some money for college. The plan sounded like a good one and everyone around me thought it was a fine fit for me. My parents were a little leery but at this time, the planet was somewhat at peace and we weren’t really facing too many challenges. So after a couple easy discussions, I signed on the dotted line and would be going to join the United States Navy on July 24th 2001. From that moment on, school took a back seat. I just needed to graduate.

My future was set in stone: I was going to be a “lifer” in the Navy.

July 24th came quickly. My family brought me to the airport in Newark. We sat together at the gate and talked about my future and the good times we had. This was the first time I was leaving my family alone. My mother looked like she was going to have a panic attack. But she stayed strong, I got on the plane and my new life began. Next stop, Great lakes, Illinois.

Boot camp was pretty simple for me. Keep your mouth shut, do as your told, knock out some push ups and fold your underwear like they told you. The food wasn’t too bad, made friends very quickly and got along with everyone. After about 3 weeks there, once you are completely into the routine it actually isn’t bad.

Boot camp was a good memory for me, up until that cool September morning.

My division had an inspection of our living space. Each division gets graded every other week on cleanliness and uniform. During the inspection, a man in his nicely pressed khaki uniform and shiny shoes was carrying a clipboard. He was walking back and forth, he looked like he was about to explode.

And then it happened, he flung his clipboard across the compartment and started yelling. I will never forget what came out of his mouth, it can be heard in my head like it was yesterday, “You soup sandwiches can’t even fold your fucking skivvies and we are supposed to trust you out there next to us? We are going to war gentlemen! The World Trade Center Towers in NYC were destroyed! The pentagon was attacked! Commercial planes are falling out of the sky!”

He then turned and walked right out of our space.

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