I wasn't paralysed or depressed at all when I wrote it. I wrote it about people who are paralysed and depressed.
When I talk about paralysis, I'm talking about being hung up on something that you couldn't move on. For example, I can't move forward with my life because I live in the past. That's why I'm paralysed--I'm immobile. And in this example, when you're paralysed, you become depressed.
I got the paralysis idea from James Joyce's Dubliners--this was one of the books we discussed in English class. I had to look up Dubliners on Wikipedia to remind myself what it was about. It's been a while since I've read it so I really need a refresher.
Now in this scenario, I'm the one who's paralysed and depressed. I've been doing a lot of thinking (and I mean a LOT), and I know that I can manage this on my own. I just need to think some more.
This is what's going on in my mind: I think about the 25-year-old Lora who never left for Canada, who spent her life in the Philippines, who went to college in the Philippines, who graduated in the Philippines, and who works in the Philippines. In short, I think about the other Lora who have never left the country and lived in her homeland her entire life. I wonder what her life is like. I wonder what she's doing now. I wonder who she is now. And I wonder how she views life.
And because I recently visited the Philippines, I'm still homesick from that visit. This recent visit renewed the dormant feelings that I had for the country. What's interesting was that I didn't see a lot of my relatives and school friends that time. I actually spent more time exploring the metro, travelling to a new city, and living like a regular Filipino citizen.
The trip made me realize that the Philippines is my comfort place. It's cliché, but there really is no place like home.
I don't really know if I'm paralysed. I also don't know if I'm depressed. I think I am, but I'm not sure. There are more days where I want to go back to the Philippines than the days where I try to figure out what to do with my life.
Four years ago, I realized that no matter how much I try to assimilate into the Canadian culture, I knew that I could never forget my Filipino identity. I resisted to the change and I was happy because I was myself. Two years later, I was forced to change and to assimilate. I gave in to the change and I was lost because I wasn't myself anymore.
Now I'm back again to the lost and confused person I was six years ago.