Cherophobia

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No, it’s not the fear of cherries, but the fear of happiness.

I think I might be suffering from this a little bit.

After coming out, feeling ready, willing and able and tumbling, I realized that there is a deep-rooted uneasiness within me when it comes to potential pleasure or happiness.

I think I know exactly where it comes from.

Whenever I experienced great happiness in the past, it always seemed to be followed by great despair.  So I have developed this strange belief that in order to avoid heartbreak, I must avoid being happy.

The result is depression.  A self-inflicted condition due to a state of mind.

I am just becoming aware of this now.  It’s quite disturbing.  I’m not sure what to do.

Whenever I realize something, I write it down.  This is how I give it a form and shape.  I find it easier to tackle after it becomes visible, observable and describable.

Cherophobia:  aversion to happiness.  There is some of it within me.

I’m sure the universe will take care of it.  If this is something that should be kicked out of my belief system, then let the butt-kicker step forward.  I welcome him.  Or her…

Coming Out

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Today someone liked a blogpost I wrote over 10 months ago.  It’s the one entitled My Frigging Loved Ones.  So I reread it.  Something struck me.  This sentence:

“I noticed that I started to transform and I’m afraid that if ever I decide to come out, no one will recognize me.”

When I wrote “to come out” I was not referring to sexual orientation.  But now I’m looking at my recent posts, and it seems to me that this is what’s happening.

I’m a bit disappointed because this is not what I expected.  When I wrote it ten months ago, I was referring to coming out of my cocoon.  Hopefully with wings.  Like a butterfly.  I was thinking of death and resurrection, not a switch in physical attraction to people.

Is this what my metamorphosis was all about from the beginning?

– Relationships are what allows you to discover yourself.

So relationships are very important in the process of personal transformation.

– Indeed.

Interesting…  I never realized that there was such a close connection between sexual orientation and spiritual development.

I feel the need to come out.  At least on my blog.  This morning I read another blogger’s post and I feel called to do the same as her.  But at the same time, I don’t think it matters much.  I don’t think it will have an effect on anyone else.  Some readers might be turned off.  But I’m going to do it anyway.

Here it goes:

I am bisexual.  Sometimes I am physically attracted to a male.  Sometimes I am physically attracted to a female.  Sometimes I am attracted to both.  Sometimes I am attracted to none.  At this moment my attraction leans toward males.  I’m sure it has something to do with the disappointment I am currently experiencing regarding my last intimate relationship with a female.

To me, sexuality is about intimacy.  Getting close to someone physically, emotionally, intellectually and spiritually.  It’s not just about physical pleasure, but also about the joy of sharing on many levels.  We never know what a relationship can bring.  Sometimes it’s pleasant, sometimes it’s not.  But one thing is certain.  Relationships stimulate self-discovery and growth.  Therefore, who I choose to be intimate with matters much.

The Mystic

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Today I’m wondering if too much spirituality can cause a balance disorder.

Ok, I hear an imaginary crowd of people yelling a resounding, unanimous answer:  “YES!”

Thank you, imaginary unanimous crowd of answering people.  But what if I told you that you are all a bunch of misled materialistic slaves?

Now they are all silent and staring at me.  One of them steps forward and says politely:  “Maybe we are, but you are the one with the balance disorder.”

Bam!

When I think of a guy who clings to spirituality above everything else, I think of an idiot who is trying to fly with man-made wings.  I think of Wile E. Coyote.  Is this what I have become?  What will happen next?

Never mind.

Maybe I should concentrate on being a man instead of trying to be a bird.  But what about my aspirations?

I’m not very good at being human.  I’ve tried it.  I keep failing.

Where are you, italicized dude?  You’re not answering me today?

– I’m here.

So what do you say, am I too spiritual?

– Maybe you want to be a mystic.

A Mystic:  Someone who practices mysticism.

Mysticism:  Becoming one with God or the Absolute, but may refer to any kind of ecstasy or altered state of consciousness which is given a religious or spiritual meaning.  It may also refer to the attainment of insight in ultimate or hidden truths, and to human transformation supported by various practices or experiences.

Yes, I think I want to be a mystic.  But what about my balance disorder?

– What about it?

If I would stop aspiring to become a great mystic, would I be miraculously cured of my balance disorder?

– I don’t know.  You would have to try it.

Hmm…  I did stop being one with You at one point.  Remember what happened?  I became extremely depressed and ended up in a psychiatric hospital.  So perhaps I was meant to be a mystic.

– Then you must accept the balance disorder.

Thank you.

Double D

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I’m not happy.

– What is missing for you to be truly happy?

I don’t know.

– Yes you do.  Think.

I have everything.

– No you don’t.  One thing is missing.  What is it?

Yes, but…

– But what?

I don’t want to say it.

– Say it.

I’m afraid to say it.

– Daemon, what would make you happy?  What is missing?

A man.

– A man.  You want a man?

Yes.

– What kind of man?

An attractive man.  A perfect man.  Not a deceptive man.

– Do you know such a man?

No.
Maybe…
I don’t know.
There is no way to know if a man is deceptive.

– Think, man.

Yes, I know one.
Only one.
Me.
The only sure non-deceptive man I know is me.

– He’s available.  Why don’t you take him?

Because I’m him.

– There are two of you.  Both are looking for each other.

So my life is complete already!

– It always was.

My blog is about this.  I write about it but I don’t believe what I write!

– One does not believe and the other one does.

So what should I do?

– Associate with me.

Dying in Your Sleep

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Some people go to bed at night and thank God for all the wonderful things that happened to them during the day.

Not me.

I go to bed at night feeling disgusted, and also relieved that the day is finally over and then I ask God to please let me die in my sleep.

I have a friend who died in his sleep.  His life situation was similar to mine.  He was married, in his forties, had four kids and was healthy.  He died in 2011.

I had not been in touch with him for quite a while, so one day I decided to do an Internet search using his name to see if I could find any information concerning his whereabouts.

I found his obituary!  So then I searched for his sister on facebook and found her.  I sent her a message immediately to get some info about the cause of his death.  She said he had “heart arrhythmia” and died in his sleep.

I thought how lucky he was.  I can’t think of a more pleasant way to die.  I wondered if he had actually wanted to die in his sleep or if it just happened unexpectedly.

Ever since that day, I think of him every night before falling asleep and I wish that the same thing would happen to me.

Depressed people will understand.  There is nothing negative about death.  It is the ultimate metamorphosis of the human being.  Of course I believe in an afterlife, so basically I visualize death as some kind of release, where the real me (the soul) detaches from its eggshell (the physical body) and starts a new life.  To me, death is a birth.

Every morning I wake up, open my eyes, look around the room and think:  “Shit, I’m still here.”

Will I Live Forever

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Looking back at my life, I realize how much time I have spent trying to connect with others.  And in the end, what do I get?

I know that I am not at the end of my life yet, but let’s say that I was, that this was my last day.

I am all alone now.  Everyone I have known is going their own way.  I wonder if my presence matters.

My presence matters to me, but does it matter to the others?

Take my best friend, for example.  He was my cousin.  He was my best friend from age 10 to probably 25.  Then both of us got married and with time we stopped seeing each other, then we stopped writing and now he is nothing more than a facebook image.

We could reconnect and make our friendship meaningful again, but then we could never reconnect ever.  At this point in his life, I don’t think my presence matters to him.  And his presence does not really matter to me either.  It could be him or it could be another, but it would be nice to have a friend.

But friends don’t last forever.  Or do they?  It depends on my life.  Does my life last forever?  Will I live forever?  Will a part of me never die?

If I live forever and all the friends that I ever had live forever also, then how can I say that friends don’t last forever?

So many things depend on whether or not I live forever.  And THIS, from where I stand today, is a question of belief or faith.

From what I perceive with my five senses, death is a reality and death is the end of life as I know it.  Death of the physical body that is — deterioration of the flesh and bones.

But some say that my consciousness will remain… alive, or aware.  And there are many indications that this might be true.  But no physical proof, of course, since consciousness is not physical.

It’s funny that the Universe did not bother giving me more concrete proof of everlasting life if this is indeed my destiny.  As if it didn’t matter.  It DOES matter!  Every decision I take could and should be based on the fact that either death is the end or it’s not.

Why does Life think that it’s a good idea to keep me in the dark when it come to this question?  If my life is eternal, why does Life choose to show me that the death of my physical body means the end of me?  It seems like a very important question, but Life seems to mock me.