It's a Quarantine Life

Well hey all you cool cats and kittens. Been a long time since I’ve made a blog post. But life sure has been busy. And strange. Yeah… let’s go with strange.

First and foremost, PRS has a new website coming out at the end of summer. You’ll be able to read articles, watch exclusive videos and pour through all kinds of hauntingly good content. And we’ll be regularly posting about strange and unusual news. We’re really excited for it. Once it’s up, I’m sure you’ll hear about it.

People keep asking if I have any new projects coming up. There are some really cool things I’m working on. But it takes time. A lot of time, actually, to develop something. All I can say is that it will be worth the wait.

So, let’s get to the now. As a friend told me, “it’s 2020. Anything goes.” He wasn’t lying. The world has gotten stranger. And I suspect by the time the year is done, we’ll have to adjust what our definition of “strange” is, if we haven’t already. Fires, impeachment, earthquakes, civil unrest… Covid-19. At the beginning of the year, PRS and I had a lot of plans for 2020. But a lot of that had to be put on hold. Like you, we’d had to adjust to this new normal. Quarantine was interesting for a moment… until it wasn’t. Shops, bars, restaurants closed. Goodbye summer movie season. Goodbye travel plans.

We hosted our first event of the year right as Covid was entering the United States. We took a group to Savannah at the end of February and investigated three separate locations. Then we launched our Spring event, Return to Point Pleasant, WV. Like many other paranormal events, we were forced to postpone. West Virginia and many other states shut down for business. But we later found an opening in June and decided to brave it. We honored the social distancing restrictions put in place, but man it was a strange event. Seeing everyone wear masks. Seeing Point Pleasant, which has quite a lot of tourists in the summer, as a ghost town. The Lowe Hotel, which is known to be haunted, was gracious enough to open for us so we could host the event. Many attendees, however, weren’t able to make it due to concerns with the virus. It was a bummer, but we still made the most out of it. I even got to travel to Trans Allegheny Asylum with some of our regular attendees.

The future is uncertain for now. Our plan was to host a paranormal event every two months. We may try for one more to finish out the year, but as many of you know, Covid cases are spiking again. We just don’t know. So, we are turning our attention online. Focusing on the new website and projects we can do within it.

Personally, 2020 has been a struggle. As a recovering addict, it’s best to stay busy and attend meetings. For a while there, meetings weren’t an option. Then zoom meetings became a thing. And that’s helped, for sure. My volunteer work was put on hold as the facility temporarily closed down. So what to do with all this new time? I started rereading some of the classic paranormal research books. Took one a couple new hobbies. Been working out like crazy. Hell, I’m getting better at cooking. Reconnected with some old friends and even forged some new ones. As crazy as this year has been, it also hasn’t been terrible. I’m sure a lot of you can relate to that.

But the stress is real. People seem more irritable. And we’re only halfway done with the year. I think there’s a part of me that thinks that life will return to normal once 2020 is done. Truth is, I think we need to start making peace with the fact that there is no going back. We adapt and move on. In terms of the paranormal, I have a strong suspicion that we’re going to see a large spike in claims of paranormal activity. After all, people are stuck inside. If their house is haunted, they have a lot more time to experience it.

It has been somewhat refreshing to take a break from my travels investigating haunted hotspots. Don’t get me wrong, I do love it. Our events keep growing every year. And I am overwhelmed by the support of my fans and supporters. That keeps me going. But this quarantine time has given me the opportunity to shift focus a little bit. Think about what I want to do differently once this Covid thing ends (if it ever ends). Life is too short to only focus on the dead and their spirits. It’s healthy to maintain a balance. I often look at Ed and Lorraine Warren for inspiration there. Despite their decades of work in the field, they still kept a normal life. Had friends, family, a little farm. And for those asking, yes, I did attend Lorraine’s funeral last year. It meant a lot that I got to pay my respects and see her laid to rest next to the love of her life. I never met Ed, but through Lorraine, I felt like I did.

2019 was a great adventure. I’m sorry I didn’t chronicle it more via my blog, but if you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, I’m sure you’ve seen all the travels we had. 2020 is an adventure, too, just a different one. It feels like the year of inward inspection. Soul searching. The good kind, if we allow it to be.

Once the new PRS website goes live, the next task will be to completely overhaul my personal site. It’s definitely time. 2020 feels like the year to change a few things. I hope to whomever reads this blog, you’re doing well and hanging in there. We’re all in this together.

Me and Kennedy. Quarantine and chill.

9-Months

What's There To Celebrate?

“Hey Ryan how’s it goin? You know I heard you say recently that, when talking about your six month sobriety, you mentioned how everyone is recognizing it but it’s weird because you feel like you shouldn’t be there to begin with! And you are the only one I ever heard say that! I always felt the same way in my recovery. Why is everyone freaking out for?!?! Basically I’m being recognized for not doing drugs?! Really! I do understand in a way because every second counts when you’re in recovery but on the other hand it’s just a fucked up scenario! Like you said here’s a cookie for making it X amount of months without using. If they gave out Oreos that would be pretty cool though! Lol but anyways I started laughing because it’s really true I feel the same way! I hate to say it, I know it’s reality, but it’s embarrassing! I’m past two years and I don’t feel any different than I did when I was hitting one year...But for all it’s worth congratulations on your six month LOL no seriously I am proud of you you’re doing a great job you look good just take it a second by second and make it through the day that’s all you need to worry about! Ttyl X
”

Last month, I returned to the place where I was reborn, Oaks Recovery.  It was a special occasion.  I was celebrating six months of recovery.  I decided some time ago that, if I made it to six months, I'd pick up my chip there during their commencement night.  My own commencement from Oaks wasn't that long ago.  It was June 9th.  I graduated from their short-term program.  Unlike high school or college, this commencement is different.  I was a bit taken aback from my first commencement experience.  It was powerful, moving and inspiring.  Every Friday evening, all of us washed-up drunks and addicts would gather to celebrate those graduating the program.  There was a keynote speaker, and there was always at least one commencée who'd have their family in attendance.  Someone always cried.  Truth be told, I cried.  At every commencement.  When a person graduates from the program, they get to choose someone to introduce them.  After that, the commencée shares a few words about their experience in recovery.  It's meant to inspire those still working the program.  The stories I've heard have stuck with me, as potent as the day I first heard them.  You'd think that hearing one drunk's life story would be enough, but for me personally, every persons tale has been powerful.  When it came for my speech, I spent most of it pointing out some of my fellow brothers and sharing how each of their stories stuck with me.  Inspired me.  Touched me.  Believe it or not, I really didn't talk much during my time in rehab.  I was broken.  Lost.  I didn't know myself.  I really didn't.  I was a shadow looking for its owner.  I had no desire to fit in or appear cool.  My only desire was to hold it together.  Everything I had been through these past few years was starting to come to the surface.  Probably because I was, for the first time in years, returning to the surface.  Returning to the light after living so long in a deep, dark cave.  And what happens to someone who is exposed to light after being in pitch black for years?  It comes with a bit of shock.  Sensory overload!  That's a good way to describe my time at Oaks.  And the first few months of recovery.  

When I commenced the program back in June, my parents came.  But they didn't show up with balloons and presents.  They were distant and cold.  Their visit for commencement marked the first time I had seen my mom in nine months (not counting the time she had visited me while I was in jail... and in case you're wondering, yeah, that was a shameful moment for me.  But it was also a turning point.  Seeing my mother with tears in her eyes, staring at her through a glass window, jolted me out of some fog.  I knew it was time to get help).  There was no rush to hug me.  They kept their distance.  After all the pain I had put them through, I couldn't blame them one bit.  They had no idea whether or not I had changed at all.  Neither did I.  

Something happened after commencement was over, though.  I remember running to my mom as she got in her car to return home.  I wanted to give her my Surrender coin.  I do recall her looking down at the coin after I placed it in her hand.  Earlier in the evening, her silence was a strong indicator of her anger.  Now, however, it was different.  She smiled and hugged me.  And then they went home.  

I wanted them to be proud of me for commencing the program, but I knew this wasn't the end of this tumultuous journey.  It was a step.  One small step.  But for me, that was a big deal.  For the first time in a long time, I knew that it was a step in the right direction.  

Driving to Oaks for my sixth month anniversary, I thought about that moment.  Comparing it to the present.  And I thought to myself, what's so great about six months of recovery?  Do I deserve a cookie for not being a drunk or a drug addict?  The thought sounds absurd.  Yet here we are.  Us crazy, selfish addicts, who have done some of the most outlandish things imaginable (I recently had a lady, a recovering Heroin addict, tell me how she once went to pee and ended up with both of her feet stuck down the toilet.  How does that happen?  Honey, you don't wanna know) and we have devised a celebratory system where we get shiny coins every few months to celebrate doing what we're SUPPOSED to be doing - not fucking up. 

"Hey, I haven't been a crackhead for three months!"  Awesome!  We're gonna cheer you on as you walk on stage to get a shiny coin to commemorate that.  It sounds absurd.  And yet, our "clean time" really does have meaning to those around us.  My family was very proud of me hitting the half-a-year mark.  Heck, I was.  That was a hard-fought six freakin months.  And after I picked up my chip, and the evening was done, I relaxed a bit in bed just looking at my coin and the messages I received.  It felt great. Why?  I guess because it symbolized returning to life.  I was literally killing myself.  Putting myself in great danger.  Destroying all potential I had.  Abusing the ones that loved me.  And despite the grip this disease has over me, I've been able to march away a good distance from it.  If I'm blessed to make it into having years of sobriety under my belt, I imagine six months will look like a heartbeat.  But for anyone who knows what it's like coming out of such a strong battle with addiction... man, that first year is tough and I'm only halfway through it.  

Someone said that out of all addicts and alcoholics in recovery, less than 10% will actually make it.  Whenever I think about that statistic, I look around the room.  Whenever I'm in AA, there's usually about twenty people there.  That means only TWO of us are going to make it?  That scares me.  The odds aren't in my favor.  Not one bit.  Scientists and doctors and therapists around the world are trying to understand addiction.  So am I.  I don't understand it.  I am trying to make sense with what I went through, what I did and why.  I don't think I'll get many answers to the questions I'm asking right now.  That's okay.  I'm a paranormal investigator.  Chasing the unattainable is kind of my thing.  

I'm alive today and that's what matters.  If you're reading this and are struggling with addiction, my heart goes out to you.  I pray that you find your way into recovery.  And if you do, that's reason enough to celebrate!  

Sometimes...

Ever since I broke free from chemical addiction, I've experienced this phenomenon where I wake up in the middle of the night and have an urgent need to go outside, listen to the silence and see the stars.  

Learning How To Crawl (That's Not Easy To Do)

I have wanted to make a blog post here since I got out of rehab.  But I found myself asking, "where do I start?"  It's not that I have nothing to say.  My mind is about to explode with ideas, thoughts, fears, shame, guilt, anger, etc.

But, I'm just trying to figure out ME right now.  Whatever that means.

I'm not in the mood to write something epic.  I don't want to think about certain things.  Sometimes I just want the day to pass by.  Other times, I'm feeling myself coming to. 

I really can't describe it.  Not yet, anyways.

So for now, I'll throw out a few things I thought about today...

I wear a necklace that was given to me by a man named Charles Gibson.  It belonged to his mother.  He passed away March 2013.  He showed me what unconditional love was.  He spent his last two months of his life with me, trying to get me to stand back up.  At times I'm so angry with myself because I feel I disappointed him.  But lately, through the passing haze, I can hear him, plain as day saying, "my dear boy, have I taught you NOTHING?  I... love you... and not in a funny way.  Your ears...mmm... they're too small.... your nose... mmm... too big... but I love you.  You are loved."  

I'm a hopeless romantic and when I care about someone it hurts way too much, which is why I have generally been so closed off.  To avoid hurt.  There, I finally admitted it.  Yay, 12 Steps.

I'm a recovering drug addict.  Most of of you guys have heard that by now.  But no, I didn't abuse illicit drugs while investigating cases or while doing "Paranormal State."  I did struggle with pain pills during the second-half of the final season of "State."  Someone recently asked me if I think things would've been different with me staying on "State" longer had I not struggled with prescription use.  Maybe.  But I was also really, really exhausted that final season.  I was executive producing and also investigating the cases.  

Yeah, I believe dark forces tried to take me down. So what?  I'm not going to blame it all on that, though.  I am still responsible for my actions.  There are a lot of interesting parallels or similarities (even just metaphorically) one can find when it comes to addiction and possession.  No, I don't think I was literally possessed by a demon.  Sometimes, when I lie awake in bed at night, I do think about some very disturbing things that occurred or happened around me.  It's something I'm trying to process and figure out.  

I did get involved with some very dark things.  In time, I'll open up about them.  I think it's right to come out and talk about it.  To warn people and perhaps give them some things to think about.  

I don't wan't to disappoint people again.