To be or not to be continues to shapeshift into a new puzzle. It is not smart to ponder such a question in the depth of depression and anxiety. Alas, I have no place to run but face this utterly human question. Writing might be helpful.
The pandemic has made the past present; reality sharp in resolution; my imagination temporarily out of reach. My shame, avoidance, and frozeness rushed back like a tsunami. I woke up one day and was flooded by the terror of my own existence. The quiet solitude gone. My mind flipped on me and I became my own worst enemy. There is no safety to be found.
I chose to be. Frozen in the darkness, I was terrified that I would forget the warmth of the Light. I know the light will eventually return. I know joy is possible in the future. I desperately hope that future is near. I am barely holding on.
How do I begin again in this new reality? I have not died. All is not lost. I want to go visit my family. I haven’t seen them in person for over 5 years. My current circumstance doesn’t allow me to go visit them. I am hoping my parents could come visit me instead.
I am trying my best to not judge my experience and my inability to return to equilibrium. I am carrying out the most basic life activities in the state of terror. The positive aspect of this state is that I am radically honest. I feel alone and terrified.
A deep breath.
I repeat to myself of what a wise teacher shared: let all of life support you. Perhaps the darkness has its purpose. I don’t know. All I know is that changes come. Life goes on.
Where should I begin again? Writing. And more writing.
I hope wherever you are, joy, ease and peace find you. I hope they find me too.
Trying and trying,
Xiaoyu
