Filthy Box

– Daemon!

Shit man, you scared me!

– Where were you?  What are you doing?

I’m in the Thought World. I’m inside this weird place again. This… box! The writer/blogger/artificial box into which I place myself each time I sit down to write something.

– Take my hand and step out of that box. I want to see you naked.

Naked? Ok, Maestro. Thank you.

– Are you cold? Take this blanket.

Where did you get that blanket?

– It’s an authenticity blanket especially made just for you.

Really? Wow!

– You should wear it every day, when you enter the Thought World. You will feel light when wearing it.

Yes, I feel light already. Like I can be myself. No need to pretend. You know this WordPress platform is not a place where I want to lose my authenticity.

– It’s a public place. No wonder you feel vulnerable.

I always wondered how it would feel like to be 100% authentic in public.

– You can experiment with that.

Thank you for the blanket, man! If you can, please remind me to put it on every morning after I get up. You know how easily I forget these invisible things.

– Why don’t you create a blogpost on this subject. Then the idea will root itself more firmly into your awareness.

Good idea.

– And one more thing. Don’t go back into that filthy box.

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When Love Lies

My last true love almost obliterated me.

“True” love?
It could not have been true if it almost obliterated you.

Right. But I was convinced that it was true love. I married this love. I gave my life to this love. I gave my time, my efforts, my money, my body and my soul to this love. I gave my everything to this love. I never doubted that this love was not my true love. The result was near-annihilation.

You survived.

Thanks to you.

No, thanks to you!

I was near-dead, there was nothing I could do.

That is not exactly true.

What did I do?

You turned to you.

What do mean you?

Instead of turning to self-destruction, you turned to self-love.

Hmm…

Not everyone accepts self-love.

It took me many years though. Many years of agony. And even with this “self-love,” I am still hurt. I’m damaged. I’m unrecognizable. I’m socially extinguished. I’m dysfunctional. I’m disabled. I’m handicapped. I’m useless. I’m no good. I’m incapable of loving another human being again.

It’s perhaps not as bad as it seems.

Has this “self-love” made me a more loving person? Look at me now. I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t trust humans. I almost hate them. And when I look into the mirror, I see one again. I almost hate myself. This self-love is a paradox. It doesn’t seem real. Sure, I did not kill myself, but there must be more to self-love than subsisting… and waiting… to die, so I can be with you.

You’re writing aren’t you?

All the time.

Then you’re doing something valuable. Everything you write is being recorded. You have no idea the impact that you are having on the universe.

Indeed, I have no idea. Thanks. Your words are encouraging. As always.

Marriage

Acute Pain.

Do I want to go there?  No, but I’m going anyway.  Call me sadomasochist.  How can I heal if I refuse to look at the pain?  I choose to look at it today.  I know it’s going to hurt.

It all started the day I found a document.  You had left it on the kitchen table for me to find.  We were married already.  We had promised to be true and honest to each other.  Perhaps this was your attempt at being truthful.

I saw the folded document on the table, picked it up and looked at it.  I started reading and as my eyes moved down across the page, my heart sank.  I could hardly believe it.  My thoughts were transported back in time to the previous months, the previous years.  You had been playing me all this time!

I walked to you and handed you the document.  You were pale and frightened.  I looked you in the eyes and asked you:  “Why did you do it?”  You said you were sorry, tried to explain and started crying.  I just stood there and listened to you.  I don’t know what my exact thoughts were at that moment.  I was confused.

It took me several days to pick up the pieces of my heart from the floor, reassemble them, find my brain and reconnect it, attempt to start thinking straight again and find a solution.  Eventually I did find one.  It cost me a lot, but you were my wife after all and my job was to forgive you and help you, not condemn you.  I was a good Christian boy.  It took three and a half years to repair the damage that you had caused.  I was confident that you had learned something from this experience, that it would never happen again, and that our relationship would be strengthened in the process.

You promised to never do it again, I remember.  But you did it again, the exact same thing at the exact same place.  I was baffled.  I couldn’t believe it.  But I was patient, I sat with you and asked you to explain.  Your eyes became watery and you said it was because of the place:  “When I go there, I don’t know what happens but I lose my mind.”  I understood, and we agreed to never to go to that place again.

I thought the matter was resolved.  But then, you did it again in secret.  We were not at that place and I was not with you and you did it deliberately and tried to hide it, but I found out.  I questioned you and this time you were a bit more defensive and said that you were not perfect, that you could not control yourself, that we needed to put in place some kind of strategy to help you.  So I worked up a plan.  It took me many hours of work.  I showed it to you and you agreed to go with that plan.

I thought the matter was finally settled but as the months and years went by, I noticed that you were not following the plan.  You were twisting it every way you could in order to gain hidden benefits, all the while pretending that the plan was brilliant and working.  It was not working.  You were cheating.  I decided to check everything you had done in the previous two years and realized, to my horror, that you had found a way to fool me using the plan.

At that point I cried.  I realized that this was no weakness of yours, it was intentional manipulation.  You had this secret agenda to trick me since the beginning and your crying and apologizing were part of it.  I was devastated.  I started questioning my own sanity.  I started hating myself for being so naïve and forgiving.  I should have left you the first time, before we had children.  Now I was more stuck than ever.  There was no way you would ever change and there was no way that I could ever trust you again.

There is a name for what you are doing.  I learned it this week.  It’s called Domestic Theft.  My soulmate is a thief and nothing can be proven since we are in a financial partnership called marriage.

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.