Podbit · The Shawn Ryan Show
Strickland kept a loaded .38 revolver next to his bed as a young fighter, spinning the cylinder and putting it to his head. One night, alone with a girlfriend named Jackie, he loaded a round, spun it, cocked the gun against his temple — and she grabbed it away. He says even now, revolvers feel like a game he never finished. One pull. That's all he wants.
Where this was said
At 1:21:20 · chapter starts 1:14:00
Following Ryan's disclosure, Strickland matches it. He describes a period of constant suicidal ideation so intense he couldn't stop thinking about it while driving on the highway. He'd burn his hand over a candle to fall asleep. He kept a loaded .38 revolver next to his bed and would spin the cylinder, load a round, put it to his head. One night a woman named Jackie grabbed the cocked gun out of his hand as he was working himself up to pull. He says the adrenaline of that moment — chemicals saturating his brain — was something he'd do anything to feel again. Even now, revolvers feel to him like 'a game I never finished.' He can't own one safely. He also describes a visualization technique for intrusive thoughts: imagining in slow motion the trajectory of a bullet through his own head, which blanks his mind and allows him to function.
Blacked out drunk at a bar in Boca Raton, Ryan went home and attempted suicide three ways in one night: running his car in a closed garage, retrieving a .45 from the safe, and only surviving because the heat melted a hole in his gas tank — which dripped onto the muffler and started a fire. He woke up upstairs with no memory, saw the gun on the couch, smelled the exhaust, and realized what he'd done.
Shawn Ryan attempted suicide by leaving his car running in a closed garage while blacked out drunk; the heat melted a hole in the gas tank, which dripped onto the muffler and started a fire.
Strickland's abusive, alcoholic father was in the household until age 17, when a then-professional-fighter Sean physically removed him from his mother's bedroom and he left for good.
Strickland's father became addicted to opioids during the epidemic, which erased whatever was left of his personality. He died of cancer so advanced the doctors couldn't understand how he hadn't noticed — he was too high to feel it. On his deathbed, in hospice at Strickland's brother's house, he called Sean over and said: 'I was really bad to you, but I didn't molest you.' Strickland photographed the body.
Strickland argued that sobriety is the only thing preventing truly damaged people from going over the edge, since alcohol removes inhibition and enables any act.
As a young fighter, Strickland kept a .38 revolver loaded with one round next to his bed and spun the cylinder, putting it to his head repeatedly; a girlfriend physically grabbed the gun away.
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