If I ask you to imagine the ideal world for you, what would it be? Would it be the utopia kinda world like in the song named ‘Imagine’ by Beatles? To Beatle fans, sorry, no offence but you know there are countries right? So the impact of the rest of the lyrics on me, I simply won’t comment about then. Yet, the most important thing is there is love between people (plus creatures like our pets), would you agree with me?
I was reading a Hong Kong leisure magazine, and one author wrote, ‘love is when you only want to say hello to that particular person but not goodbye’. Yes, I think he is so spot-on. He is one of my favourite writers, named ‘Alton Yu’, just in case if you wanna know. He gave this short phrase as an answer to a reader who wrote to him about romantic relationship, but actually, this phrase applies to all kind of other humanly relationships. But what if, I don’t want to say hello to myself but goodbye to myself instead?
Yes, this week, like last week, the suicidal thoughts still stuck around, and I could have done better, and yet I felt like a complete failure. I still got grumpy easily, and I tried so hard to control myself, took meds, did many exercises, and thanks to a recent job which I had started working at just part-time, the fact that I got to interact with different kids who were aged below 11 made me smile. Although I don’t want to be a mum myself one day, I still like hanging out with kids of others, ‘cos they are naive but true; adults love office politics, mask their emotions, and we tell both white and mean lies. I remember I was simply happy each time when I got to help out my aunt to babysit her granddaughter Yannis (so my cousin’s baby girl). Kids are magicians who always provide me the potion of positivity. In their eyes, the world doesn’t seem so bad.
是的，這一週像上週，我自殺的想法還在，我可以做的更好吧，但我覺得自己徹底失敗。我仍然好容易脾氣暴躁，我就努力控制自己，吃藥，做了很多運動，並感謝我剛剛開始兼職的工作， 讓我與年齡11歲或以下的不同的小孩子可以進行互動，感謝他們使我可以有笑容。雖然我並不想自己有一天成為一個母親，我還是喜歡與其他孩子玩耍，因為他們天真，卻真實; 大人喜歡辦公室政治，掩飾自己的情緒，我們又會說好意和惡意的謊言。我記得每次我幫我的阿姨照看顧她的孫女Yannis（我表哥的BB女），我都是開心的。孩子是魔術師，給我提供做人要正面的魔法藥。在他們眼裡，這個世界似乎並不太糟。
For girls, maybe most of them fantasise a little about their wedding, or at least hope for a marriage, so they may own the love not just from blood-related families and close friends, but also from their other half. For me, I sometimes ask myself, what is a wedding. This is because I think no one would care for me in the end after a long time, as I always said and did abnormal and annoying words and acts, and I would become a notorious depressive person. Except my poor parents, for they gave birth to me, their conscience said they cannot just kick me out of their home, which, when I have reached to the notorious day in the future, I should not be part of their home. Will I be cured?
For a few times already, I don’t understand why, in my daydreams, I have been seeing myself as the corpse in my own funeral. I saw myself so clearly as a corpse one midnight this week. In short, that night, I didn’t manage to catch the last train home. I was at first still acting like a normal human being, by thinking about what could be the alternative transports. I decided to ask my Dad to drive to the station directly to pick me up, and this marked the commencement of my shameful emotional breakdown in public.
I have been abroad for so long in the past, I have been out late at night for countless times, yet, this time, in one of the safest cities in the world called Hong Kong I felt that I am in danger. The station was closed so I could only stand outside. Almost no other persons except those taxi drivers with their taxis and a few persons with yellow helmets on, so for sure they are those staff who have to check out the railway; no one was there, except 3 other persons . I felt breathless, heartache. My logic said nothing bad would come to me because at least there were around 10 taxi rivers around, so if I scream they would know. I had to clarify that there were no racism issues for what I am saying next: but there were 3 Middle-Eastern guys who were clearly staring at me, but not in a friendly way. I felt like they would do something bad to me, for I had been been molested 3 times, of which each time was when I was in a crowded place which people might touch one another both accidentally and intentionally was possible, and each time was done by an Middle-Eastern guy touching my body part for a few seconds, and yet I can’t prove them having harassed me in that kind of environment; I am not narcissistic, I can tell the difference between touching by another in terms of normal social contact and by unlawful intention.
我過去一直在國外這麼長時間，已經無數次深夜在外面，然而，這一次，在世界上被稱為最安全的城市之一的香港，我覺得我有危險。車站被關閉，所以我只能站在外面。幾乎沒有人在那裡，除了的士司機和他們的的士，少數戴著黃色安全帽的人，所以肯定他們是那些檢查鐵路的人；此外還有3個人。我覺得喘不過氣來，心口痛。我的邏輯告訴我說沒什麼不好的事會發生的，因為至少有大約10輛的士在近，所以如果我叫喊，他們會知道。我必須澄清，我下一步說的沒有種族歧視的問題： 但有3中東的男人在顯然盯著我，而不是用一個友好的目光。我覺得他們會做一些對我不好的事，因為我已經被非禮3次，其中每次，我也在可能發生相互不小心接觸到別人的擁擠地方，每次也是中東的男人摸我的身體幾秒，而在那種環境我又證實不了他們的騷擾行為; 我不是自戀，我可以分到正常的社會接觸和非法的意圖觸碰的區別。
In short, crying, shaking, walking around, muscles all tensed up, I felt useless and couldn’t help but to look down on myself. About 10 years ago, I also once missed the last bus at night with a friend, and I remember all that I did was crying, following my friend who was calm and led me to find alternative transport and then to stay-over for a night at a person who she knew; I was 13 or 14. 10 years later, I missed the last train, and what I did was crying publicly, unable to catch my breath, and nonetheless knowing that Dad was on his way but reacted in this manner, and I am 23.
哭泣，顫抖，走來走去，肌肉繃得緊緊的，我覺得自己好無用，忍不住看不起我自己。大約10年前，我也曾經在晚上和一個朋友錯過了末班車，我記得我當時也是哭了，就跟著我冷靜的朋友去尋找可替代的交通公具，然後留在她認識的人的地方先過了一晚; 我那時是13或14歲。10年後，我錯過了末班車，明明知道爸爸在他的路上，而我所做的就是在公共地方哭，呼吸都沒能回氣； 我23歲， 我竟然是這樣反應。
I felt like a loser. If an incident like this could turn me into a breakdown, how am I qualified to have a job, to have the right to interact with kids without bringing them bad influence, to qualify to interact with any humans to build up new social relationships and to maintain the old ones, and to have hope for anything else in the future?
I just remember this was the time I saw my funeral in its clearest form ever in my brain: with my hair dyed back to its original colour, in a white lace dress, the makeup on my corpse came with some rosy-coloured blush on my cheeks, I looked peaceful in the small coffin. I saw my Mum, crying silently and she lost two sizes of weight, dressed in black. I saw my Dad and in his eyes there was nothing but a sense of emptiness. A few friends came to pass their condolences in person, including a friend, who once taught me that the worst thing a kid can do on her parents is to die before them, and I am this kid in the end. I saw everyone in tears, except baby Yannis who could not understand what was going on so she was so busy handing tissues to each person. I saw myself felt like tied in the corpse, yet I could not get out to talk to all these people and stopped them from crying. As I type about this now, I can’t believe my mind would have automatically ‘gifted’ me images of my own funeral. I can’t believe I was having such a strong urge to run into cars to die; it was still most scary to remember that I once heard myself to tell myself to die in London, by jumping down to the rail track of the tube.
我只記得這次是我的大腦有史以来最清晰的看到了的我葬禮畫面：我的頭髮染回原來的顏色，穿了白色蕾絲禮服，我的屍體臉頰上帶著一些紅潤色腮紅，我在小棺材裏顯得平淨。我看到我媽媽，默默地哭了，瘦了2 sizes，穿著黑色的衣服。我看到我的爸爸，他眼中有的只不過是空虛感。有幾個朋友來親自來慰問，包括一個朋友，曾經告訴我，一個孩子可以對父母做的最糟糕的事情就是比他們先死，而最後我就是這孩子。除了小BB Yannis不明白發生了什麼事情，她忙著給每個人遞上紙巾。我看到自己感覺就像被綁在屍體裡，但我無法走出去跟這些人說話，阻止他們哭。我現在在打字，我不敢相信我的腦海竟然 「送」我自己的葬禮的影像給自己。我不能相信我之前有這樣一個強烈願望，去跑去車路尋死; 最可怕的記憶，仍然是我己在倫敦時曾經聽到自己告訴自己去尋死，要跳下去地鐵的軌道。
Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but I still went for a group interview for a non-profit organisation, as to get selected to be trained as a volunteer who will help out on mental health issues, involving getting in touch with people of my kind who are also mentally messed up, but only maybe they are the senior and I am the junior, as they are more messed up than me, so that’s why this kind of organisations exist.
In brief, the group was to speak in turn and hearing about my reason of wanting to volunteer was dramatic enough for the other candidates whose reasons, mostly involve personal interests. I may appear to all as a joke: a patient with suicidal thoughts tries to convince others that she wants to help other patients, so when two patients come together, will they end up fixing a date of suicide to leave this world together?
I consider myself amusing too, but at least, those people and me are on the same boat, and I know not that I will be capable of cheering them up, but I would be able to cry with them from the bottom of my heart, if this helps. To reduce troubles for any others, I had a quiet word with the interviewer one-on-one at the end when everyone had left, telling her that me having depression and bipolar might fail their expectations on what volunteers could fulfil, and so asked her to consider my mental state as a factor of selecting me or not, although I would be honoured if I can help out. The interviewer spoke in a social-worker tone and thanked me for coming even I was mentally troubled. Her face said to me that I made her speechless, as she could not immediately let out some nice and formal words out of her mouth to me, the patient.
I wonder if I have the ability to be a volunteer or the ability to do many other things, and most critically, for me, I wonder if I deserve to be loved, when I recently guess, could it be that in my subconsciousness, I am very attention seeking so I always see myself dying and want people to come and see me and cry for my death, as I feel so lonely and empty in my heart? I only have myself to blame for having said yes to leave home and to bear to live a life which I don’t enjoy but to be suppressed by such life-style voluntarily, for 10 years. If only I were braver to stand up against my parents and said I wanted to go back to Hong Kong to live with them but not to live in boarding houses, host families. I still have not yet managed to move on.
To be honest, to have the courage to admit that I am a mentally-sick person to many people who I know through the blog or my own mouth or WhatsApp, is already a miracle, because I still feel that having mental problem shows that I am not a strong-minded person who is unable to overcome mental pressure, maybe too spoiled since childhood. Some people inherit mental DNA from their parents (so I better not to be a mum and pass on such genes), but I am the only mentally sick person in my entire family. I have no excuses.
Is it a very severe disease if one’s brain cannot control mental processes and thoughts, when brain is the master of a humanly body, so a mental problem can be even more severe than getting a physical problem on a body part? Whilst the answer is yes, my Mum once spoke words of wisdom on this question. She said, but with cancers, you can die easily, but if you put a mentally sick person to see a doctor and gets him watched over, you don’t die as quickly and easily. A round of applause to my mum. I hope that whoever except my parents who are close to me actually loves me from the bottom of his heart, not out of sympathy or mercy or curiosity. I am 23, I still have many things undone.
To be honest, I keep on crying as I type this post. I will try to put myself together but in positivity. For my next post, I will now set the target to endeavour to everyone how once upon a time, I had been learning the nightlife culture, when I dared to be outside late at night, and I be-friended with alcohol (Disclaimer: I am not here to encourage drinking). Sadly, I cannot go back to the old times to hang out on the street so late, because I must have aged so much and have become so sick to find this scary to do so. I want to have a hope that I have a future free from mental sicknesses, no longer go into a breakdown by missing a train and sensed the fear of being alone when it was just half 12 a.m.
If only I could have joy but not simply happiness; happiness is when you feel positive for a short period of time but later you can be unhappy again, but joy is the other level when you are in whatever mood, you still feel there is hope in yourself for the hardship you are facing, then you have joy. This is what I read from a spiritual/ philosophical book, should you buy this author’s view.
For now, I just hope that I don’t have to get dreams or to imagine my funeral as forced by my brain.