Turns out there is a term for my condition. I have Philophobia. It is the fear of falling in love or being loved. I’m not sure I have the actual phobia, but as people in my life can contest, it’s pretty close if not full fledged. I can’t even sing the word love correctly I guess as the jerk musical director told me about a million times. Which makes it unfortunate that I’m in a show called Triumph of Love. Exactly.
I also met with an astrological therapist. Didn’t realize there were such things but
there are and one happens to be good friends with my asshole uncle; who
arranged the meeting for figure out “what’s wrong with me”. Thanks Unc.
Yeah, my Christian family, my uncle is good friends with an astrological
therapist and got chart readings on my cousins as soon as they were born. Right. . . Anyway, the important thing is
that this guy told me that in order to move on to my next life the lesson I
need to learn is to separate myself from the “I” and move on to the “We”. So I guess I’ll be repeating this life until
I’m able to commit to a relationship and join fully with a partner. Great. Well, at least I got a second opinion and
know that I’m not just crazy. I feel it
legitimizes my commitment issues. If you
don’t, I don’t care.
I had a dream the
other day with two of my last ex’s in it.
Talk about waking up with weird feelings. I’m not sure entirely how I feel about
it. Definitely woke up with a queasy
feeling in my gut. Gut. . . don’t like
that word. But I would really like to
know what my psyche is trying to tell me.
I still have weird anxiety over the other ex and weird jealous
protective feelings over the last one.
Which wants me to commit again and my brain turns into some tornado of
conflictions.
I hope the next life lesson I have to learn is easier. If I ever make it.
Other news: I’ve decided to go back to school for foreign language. Maybe join the military as a translator or
something. I don’t know. Just languages. Russian.
Chinese. Norwegian.
“Who the fuck wants to die alone?”
Some nights.
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