The Ocean Is Coming.

I've got a phobia of the ocean. I've always had a problem with deep water, because I never really learned to swim. And, the ocean is like an ocean's worth of water, so I learn to swim even less in the ocean. It's a fear of dying. Drowning is not really a concern. We're all drowning all the time, it's how we live. If there were an instruction book on life, the advice would be much like this (Just replace the words "Mass Effect" with "being alive").

The problem  with me having this phobia is my relationship to the ocean. The Red Hot Chili Peppers say it best "Under water, where thoughts can breathe easily, far away you were made in the sea. Just like me." I feel I truly was made in the sea, long ago, before the sea was something that life realized was different than land. I feel a maternal connection to the ocean. In the deepest parts of me, I respect her, love her, and long for her. She feels the same towards me, or so I imagine.

She may want the best for me wherever that is, but she'd prefer that I come and see her once and a while, even often if that's possible. So you know what she did? She went and put things that I want right off the coast, so I'll move nearby, and whenever I've got time, I'll spend it with my motherly friend, lady ocean. She organized a place where my passion, my interests, and even some family are all nearby. As all mothers are, she's manipulative, so she even tricked her good friend, the weather, to be nice while I'm there too. She's prepared a calm dinner-party with exquisite food, elegant decor, ravishing ladies, smooth drinks, and hammocks. I'm the guest of honor.

That's my working model of who the ocean is. It is appealing, I can't lie (I'm actually a skilled liar, this is just a turn of phrase kthx?). But this vision of the ocean produces a new phobia, one that impacts me much more than my fear of water and dying. I see an opportunity, but I also see a trick, a trap, a troll. What if I change there? What if the sea air, the humidity, the fake smiles turn me against the sea of mountains that I've learned to love? What if I can never come back? What if I die a living death, and I'm cursed to wander a superficial plane of honest hard work, fulfillment, and flocks of sea birds as a ghastly Conquerer of Shambala whose soul has dripped out of his ears from all the praise, money, and worldly and spiritual pleasures that I attain?

I fear that my mother ocean, in her insatiable lust for my company has not taken into account the type of man who might develop from a stony and dry home. I fear that she has not considered what I might become if my arid spongy skin is exposed to the elements, her elements, for a lifetime. But the ocean is coming, one way or another.

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Thanks to everyone who voted. I should have a silly little story for you up soon.

In case you're wondering, I'm considering moving to California, likely the San Diego or Anaheim area.

Though I doubt you'll heed to my request here, please comment on any advice that you've got for someone with my condition or comment with any amounts of money that you're willing to donate to help me overcome my phobia, which cripples my heart, drags me through mud, reticulates splines, eats my beef, cures my pork, and steals my Pokemon.