Professional hypochondria

I am a hypochondriac.

I must confess. I can't hide from it.

This can be a problem since I also firmly believe that we do create our own reality.

Thus any disease that I come to believe I am victim of will then begin to take over my body as soon as I imagine I am infected with it.

There is no hope for me then.

I will eventually be possessed by every disease I have ever dreamed of having been stricken with.

This is pretty scary what with manic depression, sociopathology, water on the brain, schizophrenia, mad cow disease, and delusions of grandeur being so prevalent nowadays (especially among our leaders)..

I think there is no hope for me.

I am exploring one solution but I am not sure if it will work yet.

When I have an attack of some alleged disease which is in reality merely a hypochondriac episode, I let it have its way with me. I let it eat me alive instead of resisting.

Normally I have in the past tried to fight with my imaginary attacks of alleged diseases that I fantasize are attacking me. This never works, because a struggle ensues. The healthy self versus the imaginary diseased self.

Then I become convinced that the healthy self is not really healthy, but only believes it is healthy because of some nasty form of brain cancer which prevents it from seeing the reality that the horrid disease has taken over the body.

This results in adding insult to the imagined injury. Thus, I end up imagining not only that a deadly disease is encroaching on and devouring my body, but also that I have become so totally deluded that I cannot even recognize it.

I then lie in a fetal position unable to move or think of any escape from my imaginary upcoming discombobulation.

Now I am working on a new scheme.

I hope this will work. This is my last hope.

Instead of fighting with the imaginary disease and creating a healthy self who is at war with the sickly hypochondriac self, I just go with the flow.

I let the deadly imaging have its way with me. It eats me up head to toe until I am no more.

I'm gone. That hunk of diseased protoplasm formerly known as my body is now out of the way. Problem solved.

Instead of fighting my hypochondriac notions that I have malaria, dengue fever, trichinosis, jungle rot, ebola, or restless leg syndrome, I just visualize that alleged disease taking over my body. And I watch the whole progression of the disease without ever resisting it.

I watch the whole horrifying spectacle of my dismemberment

I watch it passively all the way until it takes me all the way into the ground and pulverizes me into dust.

"Dust thou art."

I resist nothing. I let it be.

Then what happens?

I still am. There is consciousness. There is awakeness. There maybe no longer any diseased self who is aware, but awareness persists.

Awareness itself somehow managed to survive all of the indignities that befell the body.

That spark of consciousness survived the body's battle with rabies, black plague, and monkeypox.

And then I wake up again here in my room.

Now I am all recovered and ready to imagine the next deadly attack of shingles, anthrax and leprosy.

Ooh ooh, the pain the suffering. It's taking me down. Ooh, I'm writhing in uncontrollable convulsions.

Then darkness, silence.

Hey who said that?