I was lying on my bed, feeling the emptiness and void inside me. I had no intention or effort to do anything. I had lost the motivation to go outside or meet my friends. There were shops and restaurants in the street near me, yet those places seemed far away.
I wanted to return to a “normal life” for some time, but I kept failing. I had been unemployed for more than a year. After more than ten company interviews, I still hadn’t got any jobs. I had no money, felt lost and low in mood, but I needed to pretend to be “normal” and act as if my life was continuing. However, only I knew that my world had been paused and was stuck.
This wasn’t the first difficult time in my life. I had experienced many challenging periods. However, I thought this one was the toughest. Although many people said I was smart, this time I had no idea how to improve the situation. Even if I wanted to seek help, I didn’t know where to start. I had no religious belief. I had no family members here, as I had migrated from Hong Kong to London last year. My friends were good; sometimes they would have online meeting sessions with me. While they had their busy lives, even if they were willing to chat with me, we only had conversations about once a month, or even less frequently.
At this fragile moment in my life, sometimes the idea of suicide came to mind. I had bought travel insurance, thinking, “If I die, then I can get back the money in my MPF account (equivalent to a pension retirement account in the UK), and also get the claim from the insurance company, which could cover all the debts I have and give my family members money as compensation.”
Sometimes I just stared at the travel insurance receipt, as if it could remove my pain, help me leave this miserable world, and bring me some comfort. I had bought annual worldwide travel insurance, naively believing, “If I die during this year, my family members can claim the insurance.” But ironically, I wouldn’t be able to claim any money from this insurance even if I died, because I had been away from the departure country (Hong Kong) for too long. The insurance company had terms and conditions for the annual insurance, allowing only a maximum of 90 days per trip. I had been in the UK for one year, so my family members couldn’t get any claim even if I died.
I watched the figures and numbers in my bank account dropping. I had tried to get some help and support from the local authority. I had registered for job-seeking support. It was frustrating; after registration, you immediately received an email stating that the registration would be completed in two to three weeks’ time. However, it was better than nothing. I also registered for NHS mental health support. I think the response time varies for different organisations, but I thought the response I got was pretty fast, taking only a few days or a week to get some feedback.
I thought it would be better to have some people “monitor” me and my situation; that was the actual “insurance” for me. The people I met were nice and really wanted to help me. But my world had been smashed and completely broken down, and I really needed some time to organise myself and recover. I didn’t live with anyone, just by myself. I had rented a room in a three-room flat. Due to the high rental cost, I had thought of sharing my room with another person to reduce my burden. However, my friend knew that I was a very sensitive person, and at this fragile moment, she suggested it was better not to live with another person.
Later, the facts proved that her opinion was correct. In that situation, I couldn’t accept any irritations anymore. It was as if I were already in an emergency room. My life was at stake, but I didn’t have much feeling about it. I felt numb towards everything—my life, my job, the things I should do—it all seemed unrelated to me. The only feeling was grief; I cried a lot, almost every day. My emotions were out of control. I didn’t try to control my emotions because I had completely suppressed them for my whole life. I just let my emotions come out and release. As I was alone in this room with no job, it didn’t affect my work or bring any harm to anyone.
I didn’t know why I was grieving; the grief came without reason. Physically, I was healthy and had no sickness. I practised qigong exercises daily, had a healthy diet, and could sleep regularly for 8 hours a day without any issues. I hadn’t even caught COVID-19, thanks to my diet and exercise keeping me healthy. I finally realised that being physically healthy doesn’t mean a person is mentally healthy. Just like being very rich doesn’t mean a person is happy.