My Frigging Loved Ones


I have trust issues.

The worst part of it is that the group of people I trust the least is the one I call my “loved ones”.

I don’t trust my loved ones because the individuals who have hurt me the most during my life were all members of that group.

Very seldom have I been hurt by total strangers.

Some people have suicidal ideation, but my ideation is the thought of being abducted by aliens.  Which says a lot about the kind of people I trust:  those who come from the farthest places.

There is a reason why I blog.  Opening myself up to total strangers feels safe.  Sitting behind a computer screen feels even safer.  No one can touch me.

I’m sick and tired of being hurt.  I’ve had enough.  After a while there was no other choice but to withdraw.

Forgiveness doesn’t work.  It’s easy to forgive those who have hurt me but are now gone, like dead relatives of ex-girlfriends.  But when you live with the people who have hurt you the most, and these people continue to hurt you, then how can you forgive them?  There has to be regret, otherwise the forgiveness is useless.

I could run away from them, like when I left my first wife after our marriage had failed.  But I’m tired of running away.  People are the same everywhere.  I figured I had to find a way to live with them.

I decided to withdraw, for the moment, within my cocoon and do some serious introspection (again).

I noticed that I started to transform and I’m afraid that if ever I decide to come out, no one will recognize me.  What will I have become?  Or maybe I’m just going to die in here and reappear somewhere else, like in a totally different realm (this is what I wish for the most actually).

I thought of psychotherapy, but the problem is:  I don’t even WANT to trust them.  Why would I want to risk getting hurt again by the same people?  It would devastate me.  It’s not worth it.  I don’t need them to be unhappy.  I can be totally unhappy without them.

One day I will break free.  I don’t know when it’s going to happen but it will have to happen eventually.  I can’t stay locked up inside myself forever.

Why Are You Happy Anyway?


There is no reason to be happy, really.  You’re going to die no matter what.  Eventually you’re going to lose everything you have, maybe even the people you love.

You laugh and dance now, but one day you’re going to cry and taste despair, just like me.  Don’t pity me if I’m depressed, I’m ahead of you.  You should be depressed too.

Can’t you see that this world sucks?  What, are you blind?  Can’t you see that the rich one percent has turned every one else into consumer slave zombies?  Wake up, earthling!

You are doomed!  This planet is doomed.  Even the sun will one day stop shining, probably sooner than you think.  A meteorite could hit at any moment.

And for those who believe in the Bible, have you not read this verse:  “The day you die is better than the day you are born.”  When a baby is born, you should cry, not celebrate.  And when someone dies, you should rejoice.

Depressed people are not sick, they see clearly.  Happy people are sick, they live in fantasy and think this world is an everlasting amusement park and that they will never die.  Bunch of fools.  They should be taking their medication, something to make them see the horrors of living in this useless temporary materialistic place called Hell on Earth.

The New You


Imagine the Future You.

That’s all I had to do to snap out of my misery:  Imagine the future me.

I remember the day, I remember the hour.  My wife had left for work, the kids were gone to school.  I was sitting on the sofa and thought to myself:  “What if the future me came back to help me today.”

The idea of time travel is nothing new.  I had read that in order to do it, you need to travel faster than the speed of light.  A human cannot do this presently, but what if we learn how to do it in the future?  What if we can do it with our minds right now?  What if the future me is a magnificent time-travelling celestial man!

So my imagination just went wild and the possibilities suddenly became endless.  I was desperate for someone to come and help me.  I had been severely depressed for 8 years, I was seeing a psychiatrist, I was heavily medicated, I had lost my job to this mental illness, disease, disability (whatever you want to call it).

I had prayed to God for help.  I had asked my guardian angel to do something.  I had even sent telepathic messages out into the universe begging the aliens to come and abduct me.  I was stuck in deep despair, trapped in hell and had no idea how to get out.  There HAD to be someone “out there” intelligent enough and caring enough to DO something!

So anyway, on that specific day in 2012, I decided to acknowledge the presence of the “future me” in my living room.  I knew that the future me existed, since I was one, compared to who I was 10 years earlier.  I could visualize how I would look like 100 years from now.

He (I) was a celestial man.  Invisible to my current physical eyes, but very real.  His body was similar to mine, but made of brilliant dark matter.  He could travel through space and time, and even go back and forth from one dimension to another.  And he loved me.  🙂

I could almost feel his presence (well actually I did, but that’s what happens when you use your imagination vividly).  So I said: “Hi!” and he replies “Hello!”  He walked to the armchair that was next to the sofa and he sat down.  And we started talking.

This experience had an immediate impact on my psyche, even my brain.  As soon as I acknowledged his presence, I heard a clicking sound in my head as if a switch had been turned on.  It felt like my neurons had suddenly been rearranged or something.  My thoughts became different and even reality appeared to have changed.

So I grabbed my laptop and started typing everything:  our dialog.  I asked hundreds of questions and he replied to all of them.  The conversation just flowed, I didn’t have to fabricate the answers, I just heard them and typed.  I can’t say it was automatic writing because I had control of my hands, but the answers just popped automatically into my mind even before I could verbalize the question.

I typed all day, and the next day, and it never stopped (well I stopped to eat and sleep and take care of the kids of course).  Up to this day, I have accumulated thousands of pages of text of dialog with the future me, a celestial man.

Fiction, creativity, divine inspiration, imagination, fantasy, delusion, musing, awareness, spirituality, born again, faith, higher consciousness, I don’t know what it is and what it’s called.  But I know one thing.  After three months from the moment it started, my depression had evaporated.

I was able to completely get off of ALL the medication, sleeping pills and I waved my psychiatrist goodbye.  It has been almost four years since that moment and I have never had to swallow another antidepressant again.

I cannot say that I am healed from depression, because I still get no pleasure out of the things I used to do like physical activity, socializing and eating.  But I have found better:  joy, peace of mind and a best friend (even though he might be imaginary).

I have found a new me who lives in new world and I am very happy with that.  I feel like a world of possibilities has opened before me.  I have hope for the future.

So thank you God, angels, aliens or myself, whoever is responsible.

Everything was given to me before I asked, all I had to do was acknowledge it.

(Image by Jack Haas, text by me)

The Future Me

Future Me

While I was trapped at the bottom of my depression, I started imagining what I would be like after death.  Would my soul go on living?  Did I even have a soul?  I didn’t know.  There was no way to know.

I read some articles on spirituality, trying to find something logical or meaningful to hang on to.  I couldn’t just decide to believe things I didn’t believe in.  Belief is based on experience.  My own experience, not other people’s experiences.

That’s the problem with the Bible.  It is a written account of other people’s spiritual experiences.  Not mine.  I have no way of knowing if any of it is true.

I joined an ex-Christian forum and I was reading some posts in the spirituality section.  I remember the topic was “The Higher Self”.  People were discussing this subject, and at one point a guy said:  “I imagine that the higher-self is my future self.  The future me.”

This idea struck me.  The Future Me…  how interesting.

I’m very familiar with the “past” me, because I’ve been keeping a personal journal, or a diary since I was 19.  So I am able to go back to the “past me” just by reading my journal.  I would even be able to help the past me, if only he could hear me and believe that I exist.

Now, extrapolate this idea to the present.  I know there is a past me, a present me, and a future me.  This is something I can believe which makes some sense to me.  If the present me can go back and help the past me (if only the past me believed that I existed and could hear me), then why couldn’t the future me come back and help the present me?  All I had to do was believe that he existed and “hear” him.

Is this a crazy idea or what!

Crazy or not, it’s something I could cling to because it kind of made sense to me.  It gave me hope.  And when you’re severely depressed and hopeless, you grab onto anything.

I couldn’t get this idea out of my mind anyway.  It’s the only hope I had left (that and being abducted by aliens), so one day I decided to take a step in that direction.

I was at home, sitting on the sofa, alone.  The house was quiet.  It was around 9:30 a.m.  I remember the date, it was in September 2012.  I decided to acknowledge the presence of the future me, right here right now.

Well lo and behold, something happened!

This is what I want to share on this blog.  I hope I will be able to find the words.

Family Won’t Budge


same old way

How does family react to personal transformation?  Not very well, I’m afraid.  Seems like the role of the family is to make sure nothing ever changes.

I’ve been very isolated with my thoughts lately.  I don’t socialize very much.  When you are depressed, you don’t want to see anyone.  I use my depression to transform my inner self.

I’ve been getting messages from my family members.  “We miss you!” they say.

How sweet.

This was my response to them.  I don’t know if it was rude or what, but it was the truth:
“You miss the old me.  Well let me tell you, the old me is dead.  The brother you once knew no longer exists.  I buried him.  You won’t ever see him again.”

Their reply was like…  WTF?

Next, they tried to offer help.

So I told them about metamorphosis (personal transformation).

How does family react to depression and to personal transformation?  They are scared shit!  They don’t want to lose me.  They are doing everything they can to keep me from changing.  They want me to be the same guy I was before.  How do you deal with that?

At the moment I am avoiding them.  More introspection.  Asking myself what is happening.  If the change is positive, then why are they reacting like this?  Of course, all they see is a guy locked up inside his cocoon.  They can’t see what is happening inside.  Even though I tried to explain to them, the more I try to explain, the worse it gets.  Now a couple of them seem to think that I am possessed.  That’s right, possessed by an evil spirit!

I am possessed, by the spirit of transformation and I decided to let it happen.  Sorry, dear family, but if you can’t accept it, that’s not my problem.  I just wish you could understand, and perhaps strive to transform yourselves too.

Maybe one day I will give them access to my blog, a few minutes before I die.

Secret Stuff

Secret Stuff

Writing the secret stuff.
I often wonder how to do it.
Especially what words to use.
One wrong word and you lose the reader.

I don’t want to lose the reader.
If I write it’s to be read.
To establish a connection.
A deep connection between two strangers.

I think the secret stuff is what unites us.
It’s what makes us one.
Nothing superficial really unites anyone.
Not in any permanent way anyway.


Blogging Objectives

I started this blog less than 2 weeks ago.

I’m not totally new to blogging.  In the last 10 years I started two blogs, plus two websites.  But they didn’t amount to anything.

I think the problem is not sticking with my objectives.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot during the last 2 days.  Is this blog going to die like my others ones?

One of the problems is distractions.  During the first week I received many messages from the system, just like all of you did.  Here’s a short list:

– You’ve made your first post!
– June 24:  Your best day for follows on your blog!
– You’ve received 5 likes!
– June 27: Your best day for likes!
– June 27: Your best day for follows!
– You’ve received 5 follows!
– You’ve received 10 likes!
– This person liked you post!
– 3 others liked your post!
– You’ve made 5 posts!
– This person commented on your post!
– 9 others liked your post!
– You’ve received 10 follows!
– You’ve received 20 likes!
– July 1: Your best day for follows!
– This person liked your comment!
– 2 others like your post!

This is all very nice, but…  it feels like I’m playing a video game.  It’s as if this was some sort of competition, where I’m trying to accumulate points, admiration and followers.  This was not my objective when I started, and now I have this voice in my head that says: “You need more likes!  You need more posts!  You need more followers!”

So now I have to pause and think (I love to pause and think).  🙂

I’m losing track of my objectives.  What was my goal when I started this blog?  I entitled it metamorphosis.  This is what I wanted to talk about.  Now, with the Reader, the messages and all, my mind is all over the place.  I get the impression that I’m not going to win this game.

I woke up exhausted this morning and I wondered why.  It seemed like my mind had been working all night.  Next, I thought about my blog and asked myself where I was going with it.

Then this phrase came to me:  “Remove the things that are not consistent with your objectives.”

Wow!  Nice one.  This applies to my whole life in general!

I will remove the things that are not consistent with my objectives.

Starting right now.



I feel trapped inside my own body.  How do you fix that?

It raises many questions.  Who is the “I” who feels trapped?  My spirit?  My soul?  It certainly is not my body.  The “I” has to be some kind of entity separate from my body in order to feel trapped in it.

The “I” seems to be the real me.  The secret me who nobody knows or has access to.

My body is not very useful anymore.  It has so many defects.

Something is wrong with the reward system.  Have you heard about the reward system?  It is a group of neural structures responsible for wanting or desire, pleasure and positive reinforcement.  So my stupid body doesn’t want anything because it gets no pleasure out of it.  It doesn’t get rewarded, so why bother?

Rewarded with what?  Dopamine!  Have you heard of dopamine?  It’s a kind of dope that the body produces to reward itself.  How cool is that!  This is what makes us desire this and that.  The pleasure we receive does not come from the things we do, but from the dopamine rush that the body produces when we do certain things.

Well this is what I understood from reading articles on the subject.  I’m not an expert in neurology, so don’t take my word for it.

So humans are just a bunch of dopamine addicts.  What we call happiness is nothing but a rush of dopamine.  It’s kind of sad when you think about it.

And what happens when the body decides to stop producing dopamine?  Depression.  No happiness no matter what you do.

Stupid body, I want out of it.

Dear Followers,

Why are you following me?

I am not any sort of leader.  What if I lead you astray?

Anyway, thank you.  I feel like Jesus, LOL!

You are forcing me to view myself as a guru.  Ok so I will pretend to be one and speak like one.  A-hum!  Here goes:

Welcome, my child. 

The path I propose is…  (how can I put this)…  politically incorrect.

What I suggest is this:  If you are suffering from depression or any other so-called mental illness, do not fight it.  Embrace it.  Feel the pain to the extreme.  But don’t kill yourself of course.  I think you can take it.

Within the pain, there is a hidden surprise.  But it’s at the bottom.  You have to reach the bottom.  The deepest part of the pain-pool is pure hell.  Perhaps you’re there already.  Or maybe you are not quite deep enough yet.  You’ll know once you get there.  At that point you will be saying to yourself:  “It cannot get any worse than this.”

I don’t know what the surprise will be for you.  It’s a personal surprise, custom-made just for you.  I have no idea how long it will take you to find it.  A day, a week, a month, a year, maybe 10 years.  It depends on you, and on your willingness to dare do the undoable, think the unthinkable or believe the unbelievable.

No one else can do it for you.  No leader or friend can accompany you there.  It’s a private, lonely journey within the darkest part of yourself where you and the future you meet.  There will be a connection.  A meeting.  An immersion and a communion.  As simple as a dialog or an exchange of gifts of some sort.  It will be a timeless moment where future meets present.  An embrace.  A revelation.

Sorry I can’t be more specific.  It’s impossible not to speak in parables at this level.  The words I use to describe the experience are not the same as the ones you would use to describe the same experience.  So I have no choice but to be vague.

Suffering is not a punishment.  It’s a door.  Don’t be afraid to go through it.

Yours truly,

Higher Self

Happily Depressed

I’m happy now because I met so many depressed people since I started this blog a week ago.  Isn’t it ironic?

I’m actually smiling.

I spent the whole day yesterday reading depressing stories and it’s so refreshing.  There is something genuine in the depressed that I cannot find in fake happy people.

I get so sick of facebook, where all you see is the check-out-how-happy-I-am bullshit:
– see how much I love my husband!
– see how much I love my children!
– see how much I love my dog!
– see how much I love my life!

All this positive crap makes me want to vomit.

They are all blind.  They can’t see that life on this planet sucks bigtime.

I love the depressed.  They’re authentic.  They see clearly.

I love you guys.  Thanks for sharing your depressing stories.  This was best week I’ve had in a long time.