The first six months of this year is approaching to an end. What happened during this period have made it one of the toughest times I can ever recall.
I refrain from revealing any detail here not only for privacy – actually I have already said more than appropriate about myself in this blog, which is precisely one of the causes of some troubles – but also for the very simple belief that readers should not be bothered with the blogger's personal troubles whatsoever. The following lines are written as an attempt of self-therapy more than anything else. If you are not interested, please stop reading now. Thank you for your support along the way.
What happened over the past months was like driving over a series of landmines and got completely blown off. Literally I survived, but the physical and psychological sirens are ringing hard to remind me of some serious but subtle damages. Over the past two weeks the situation has gone worse. Appetite is lost almost completely, not feeling like eating anymore. I drink harder than ever, acutely aware that this is really bad. All of a sudden the hobbies and interests that have been established for so many years seem to lose their appeal. Recently there was a good bargain for my dream camera, but the much-awaited purchase didn’t give a single pinch of happiness or excitement. Actually I almost regretted it as soon as the sales receipt was given to me. The Chinese Opera Festival is opening next week (although I’m going to miss the inaugural show for work) and the next season of performances at Yau Ma Tei Theatre at the end of July, but I feel no anticipation or craving for the enjoyment whatsoever. Apathy and indifference grow at unprecedented speed and depth. While I manage to force myself to eat, to read, to write and to work out more frequently, the overwhelming vacuum deep down remains unchanged, if expanding.
Knowing how serious the problem is, I do whatever I can to deal with it, including seeking professional help. But little improvement has been made so far. As much as I know the problem, I am fully aware of the fact that at the end of the day, I am the only one who can take me out of the dangerous spot. Certainly it takes time, but I'm really angry with myself for allowing this to happen, and more impatient than ever to move out of the swamp of apathy and hollowness.
But I am not really complaining. I'm just being absolutely honest with my emotions and feelings and deal with them upright. The least desirable is to cheat yourself by turning a blind eye to what has gone wrong and pretending that the problems do not exist. They would not go away if you don't address them – not that there is any guarantee of success, because there are plenty of problems that can't be resolved single-handedly, but inaction always prolongs the suffering. Or, at least, I would have nothing to complain or to be complained against because I have done whatever I can.
I know more than anyone that what I have been going through is inevitable in my life, programmed by God or Dao or some sort of lofty authority in the back end of the universe, whatever you name it. I'm like a Super Mario jumping and running for survival without knowing who is taking control of my actions and decisions on the other side of the computer screen. I have no idea whatsoever if I would survive any given stage. All I can do is to give my best with the hope that I would make my way through. But if I can't, it's life, and it' something out of my control.
Though not a Christian per se, I firmly believe that it is God who makes me who I am. He did so by appointing my father and mother, exposing me to a variety of things to help me identify what I'm interested in and what not, putting me to different situations in which I learn how to deal with challenges and hardships, and eventually shaping my personality from such experience. Perhaps He drags me into the current whirlpool to help me become stronger – both in physical and mental terms, but I haven't found out how to do so. It still feels like someone lost in the dark, trying to keep moving forward in order to keep up the hope of finding his way out sooner or later, but not knowing when he would succeed, or if he would ever see light again.
And now the most urgent task is to convince the other side of the brain that controls the heart to accept the harsh fact of life as it is, although it has taken way too long than it should.