Finally the curtains were drawn closed on the wasting efforts to launch products of two consumer-oriented clients. I am most grateful that I didn't fall ill, despite World Health Organisation's Phase 6 warning on human swine flu and the rapid drainage of strength from my body.
Not surprisingly, my brain was barely functioning to keep myself awake when I returned to the office yesterday. I could hardly talk or think. All I could do was murmuring baby talk or pointless words like "that" or "those" with a great difficulty to be specific. Every now and then there was a conscious blackout of my brain. I could feel my hard-working brain had stopped running under the skull, as if it had turned into a piece of clean, frozen bean curd. Involuntarily, I lost track of what I was supposed to say. I lost my words.
Obviously these were terrible signs of overdraft of mental and physical strength. While I am no stranger to these appalling symptoms, it seems the magnitude of the most recent blow has been so overwhelming that I might not be able to recover soon enough.
There was something even more alarming, however. Despite the compliments from clients and seniors, there was not even a gleam of happiness or relief upon completing those daunting projects. Child delivery is the common analogy used to describe the hard-earned happiness upon project completion, and yet I could feel nothing this time. The absence of a sense of ownership makes me remain calm and undisturbed as usual. Even though I was burnt out, I managed to keep my mental and physical composure and finished the final chapters of the compelling novel The Historian. Emotionless and worn out, at some point I felt I might have been contaminated by some sort of evil that has deprived me of the feeling of life.
I don't know what exactly makes me feel as such, although the strong resistance from within to go into what I do does play an important role, I must admit. Fighting an internal battle between personal values and responsibility when one can hardly spare a moment to think of oneself is perhaps the most dreadful experience any human being could possibly have.
Thanks to a heart-warming call from Stella last Tuesday, there finally seems to be a flash of hope in endless darkness. The long-awaited chat with Queenie late yesterday afternoon proved to be relaxing and refreshing too. I hope the current situation would end as soon as possible so that I can continue to enjoy my existence.