I Suck at Friendship

Unsociability6

I ask myself:  Do I have any friends?  Aside from family members and excluding blog followers or followees, do I have any real friends?

The answer is no.

A real friend to me is someone whose presence I value to the point of feeling sad and torn at the thought of their death.  There is no one in my life at the moment who fits this category.  Therefore I must conclude that I have no friends.

I feel ashamed.

How did it come to this?

I know:  marriage.

I spent the last 17 years of my life trying to maintain the friendship I had with my wife, and in the end it failed.  Or maybe it didn’t.  We still talk to each other.  But our relationship doesn’t meet my above definition of “a real friend.”  I don’t feel sad or torn at the thought of her death.

Maybe there’s something wrong with my definition.  Is it too extreme?  Is it normal to have become so unattached to people?  Maybe it comes with age.  I don’t know, I’ve never been this old before.  I am older than I have ever been and my life came with no instructions manual.  So I’m not sure of anything.

I wonder if there is a point in life where it becomes impossible to make real new friends.  It seemed easier when I was young.  But as I get older, it’s even difficult to imagine.  I have so much baggage.  The people my age have so much baggage too.  How could I start a fresh new friendship while carrying so much baggage?

The fact that I’m an introvert does not make the prospect look any brighter either.  Having online friends is probably the best I can hope for.  Who could tolerate my presence face to face?  It would take quite a special person.  I wonder if anyone would really enjoy being close to me.

I’m like the guy in the photo above.  My face is a computer monitor that has been switched off.  It reveals nothing of what is inside.  No data is visible.  It’s just a blank screen.  And I’m so sensitive, it’s like my body is covered with buttons.  Who knows what would happen inside my central processing unit if someone would push one of my buttons.

If I had a plug I would pull it out of the socket.

Wrapped in Fantasy

chrysalis

Here I am, hanging upside down, waiting.
I have all the time in world to think now.
While I listen to them:

“What are you doing up there, alone and silent?  Come back down!  We miss you, we love you, we worry about you.  Don’t do this to yourself.  It’s dangerous and crazy.  It won’t end well.  Listen to us, people like you need professional help.”

I think to myself:  No, I can’t go back down there!  I would rather kill myself than return to my old ways.  Besides, it’s too late already.  I cannot undo what nature has done to me.  Oh yeah, sure, I could break out of this cage, but I would fall and hurt myself badly.

I chose to listen to my inner voice who said that I should walk away from the crowd, climb this tree and hang myself by my feet.  Then wrap myself up and wait it out, while I watch the upside-down world which looks like a horror movie to me.

I don’t see clearly for some reason.  My vision is blurred but I have these fantasies of flying!  I know it sounds absurd but I can’t help it.  The voice in my heart speaks louder than the one of my peers who choose to continue to crawl in the dirt.

But my life is shit, I must admit.  I’m not having any fun at all.  Sometimes I feel like I’m disintegrating.  I have dizzy spells, I get anxious like never before, and worst of all, I am depressed 95% of the time.  The only thing that sustains me are my fantasies which I know are illogical and unreal, but… I must hang on.

“You are an earth-man!  You were meant to live and to love the earth!”

“No, you are a sky-man, meant to detach from the earth to become a light being.”

They are both right.  This is what is confusing.  I am two things.  Two different persons now, caught between two very different worlds.  I am a hybrid!  But can the two survive together, in one body, indefinitely?  One of the two must die.  Which one will it be?  Who do I identify with?

I think that the wise thing to do is to stay where I am and listen to the inner voice who tells me to be patient, and to let the transformation occur.  But I admit, most of time I feel like there is no change happening at all, or that I’m turning into an evil creature.

Them:  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Me:  “I’m metamorphosing and maybe you should too!”

But I can’t explain.  They have no clue.

Deception

Deception

I remember the events that triggered my depression.  One day I realized that my wife was lying to me, my employer was lying to me, my brother was lying to me, God was lying to me, and finally I was lying to myself by thinking that my loved ones would never lie to me.  That day, I became extremely depressed and I have been trying to pull myself out of this pit of bullshit ever since.

I figured out why people lie.  There is a reason for it.  People usually don’t lie just for the fun of it, since there is a risk involved.  They lie because they feel that they don’t have much choice.  They lie because they are scared and because they are trying to survive.  They are afraid to lose something, so they lie to gain something.  It usually works in the short term, but not in the long term.

But that’s not my problem.  My problem is how to deal with it.  I can choose to be honest, but that won’t change the people around me who choose to continue to lie.  I had to come up with a solution.  Trust became an issue.  I realized I was surrounded and involved with people who lie and others who might or might not be lying, and that there was no way for me to be absolutely sure if they were.  This made me very uncomfortable and depressed.

How can I deal properly if I don’t even know if I’m dealing with truth or with lies?  All the deep connections I had with people were put on hold, until I found a solution.  Of course, trust is not really necessary with the superficial connections I have with people, but it is necessary to some degree with deeper, more meaningful relationships.

Have I found a solution?  I’m not sure.  Something weird did arise from the depression of not being able to profoundly trust anyone.  I would call it detachment.  This is what this blog is all about.  The process of detaching from this world and connecting with something better that might seem, from the outside, to be imaginary.

This detachment solution was given to me.  I didn’t have to fabricate it.  It opened up, and I received it, not knowing where it would lead me.  It got me quite far, much farther than I could have ever imagined, almost to a point of no return.  I’m looking back now and I’m asking:  “Could I ever go back to the way I used to deal with life?”  I don’t think I could.  How could I reattach to all the people and the things I detached myself from?

I realized that the only way I could truly trust people and their world would be if all of it was transparent.  As long as the world is not transparent, it will always remain possible for things to be hidden.  And hiding something is the root of deception, the foundation of every lie.

I aspire to more than this bullshitting planet, and if this means I have to daily escape in some fantastic dimension, then so be it.  If you have discovered a better solution, please let me know.

Detachment

Detachment

I never thought the word detachment would become so meaningful to me.

The state of being detached or disconnected.

Absence of inclination towards something.

Inability to connect with others emotionally.

Indifference to the concerns of others.

I’m sure Psychology regards this as a mental illness.  Let’s see…  Yes, here it is:  dissociation, depersonalization and derealization.

Dissociation is a defense mechanism where certain thoughts are compartmentalized in order to avoid emotional stress to the conscious mind.  Check.

Depersonalization is the loss of one’s sense of personal identity.  A feeling of being unreal, detached or unable to feel emotion.  Check.

Derealization is the psychological symptom in which the world appears to be unreal, and the patient has a sense of detachment from it.  Oh yes, double-check that one.

Bravo.  Three more diseases to add to my list.

But there is another definition of the word which I find most interesting.  In the military (which I hate by the way), a detachment is the separation of a unit from the main body for particular purpose or a special mission.

Ha! ha!  In your face, Psychology!  Life has put me aside for a particular purpose to accomplish a special mission.  Oh yeah.

Now if only I can find out what it is…
Perhaps I should join the military…

Fuck that, I’ll stick with levitation.

Hell

Following my experience with people, and the realization that I was being lied to, the descent into hell was quick and unhindered, like a freefall.  Nothing could stop it.

Hell3

Hell is depression and depression is hell.  To me those two words are synonyms.

I was more than hurt.  I could not believe that loved-ones could lie to me like this.  My whole belief system collapsed and I lost all my reference points.  It’s hard to explain, it’s like nothing made sense anymore.  All the connections I had with reality disintegrated in one day.  All the connections I had with people became meaningless.  I even lost my faith in God.  The concept of a loving Father became absurd.

I couldn’t even think anymore.  I was totally lost and unable to grasp logic.  It felt like I had fallen from a cloud and was now trapped, caught, stuck in a dark place, chained to the ceiling in a room with no light and no door.  I was finished, alienated and annihilated.  My spirit was dead.

I booked an appointment with a psychiatrist because I didn’t know what else to do.  I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and prescribed the highest dose of antidepressant allowed by law.  Plus sleeping pills because I could not sleep anymore.

I became an automaton, able to function and perform my duties but emotionless, clueless and pointless.  No pills could cure me.

This hell lasted eight years.  I’m not going to go into all the details because it would be useless.  What I want to get to is how I was rescued, which will be the subject of my next blogposts.

People

people

Something unexpected has happened to me.
I’m not proud of it.  I never asked for it.
So I’m going to write about it.

I avoid talking to people more and more.  It started about a year ago and it has developed into some kind of obsession.  I don’t want to talk to anyone!

I don’t mind writing, but being face to face with someone makes me uncomfortable.

And I think I know exactly why.

People are not transparent.  I know it sounds crazy, but I have been pondering on this for quite some time, and I think this is it.  People are not transparent and I can’t see through them and there is no way I can ever see through them.

I cannot rely on appearances.  I cannot rely on what they say either.  I can’t rely on what I think of them or on what other people have said.  I can’t even rely on my own judgment.

So when I am talking to someone, I feel like I’m opening myself up to a mysterious living creature that has the power to lie, cheat and fake it, and that there is no way for me to ever know or to protect myself.

I feel this with the members of my own family!

I know exactly why.  I have been so naïve all my life, I used to trust and believe everyone, and one day I realized that my most precious loved-ones had been lying, cheating, manipulating and taking advantage of me for years, without being aware of it.

This has caused me to almost completely shut down.  This is the major cause of my depression.

I don’t trust people, especially loved-ones.  I don’t think I will ever be able to trust anyone again, not until they become completely transparent.  I have to be able to see through them, to see what’s really going on behind the facades. This will never happen, not on this earth anyway.

So my family life is doomed and so is my social life.  Fortunately I can still write to people, and that I do.

I’m Not My Body

corpse

Am I my body?  Have you ever asked yourself this?

I’ve never felt that my body was me.  Even as a kid, I remember thinking that my body was just a vehicle.  I was like a little man sitting behind the windows of my eyes, driving my body around.  This was fun.

What is wrong with this world is that it tries to convince me that I am my body.  Where did they get that idea?  What a stupid idea.  I don’t buy it at all.  Not anymore.  I bought this idea for a while, but then decided to reject it.  It didn’t serve me well.  It’s just bullshit.

You can believe whatever you want, but if you choose to believe that you are your body, then this is what your reality will become.  Fun at first, but eventually your life will become a nightmare.  Because there is no hope for the body.

I don’t hate my body, but I’m not in love with it either.  It’s like my car.  It’s useful to move around.  I can use it to manipulate the stuff around me.  It also serves to express myself to others.  But my body is not me, it’s a tool.  A living tool which has an expiry date.

Those who identify with the body live as mortals.  Those who do not identify with the body have a better chance at survival.

Surviving death.  The purpose of life is to survive death.  To become immortal.

Immortality starts with not identifying with the body.

Look at yourself in the mirror and say:  “This is not me.  It’s my vehicle.  And it’s getting older.  It’s slowly dying.  And that’s fine.  I’ll continue feeding and taking care of it but I’m not giving my life to it.  Keeping this body alive as long as possible is not necessarily the recipe for happiness.  My sense of self is located somewhere else.  This vehicle belongs to the earth, and it will stay with it.  I do not belong to the earth and I don’t intend to remain attached to it forever.”

Death

I’m not dead yet.

I might be cocooned, but I am not dead.  I’m not asleep either.  I feel very aware.  Waiting…  Wondering what I should do.  There is not much I CAN do… except introspect.  And write.  Starting this blog was a good idea, I think.

I will write my introspections.

So here are the observations of a person who finds himself almost completely alone.  Another word for alone is unsocial.  So I shall write about this.  But my purpose is not to complain.  I intend to express to the rest of the world where hope lies for a person like me.  There IS no hope for me on earth.  My hope is elsewhere.

Lonely Man

This is not a place for readers who are looking for stories of earthly hope.  I have no such stories to offer.  I am concerned with truth.  And the true destiny of physical man is death.

Let’s face it.  Let’s face the truth and talk about it.  Death is real.  It’s in my face and it’s in my body.  It WILL come.  In fact, what I used to be is already dead.  My old identity has expired.

I will never be a caterpillar again!  The only hope for an earth-crawler is metamorphosis.  Transformation through what some call death.  But what a paradox!  Because this “death” is our means of survival.  So why is it called death?  Simply because in the eyes of the unbeliever, this kind of transmutation requires a total detachment from physical reality.  And to the materialist, physicality is all there is.