At the same time, Omicron is ravaging Hong Kong. Unlike previous waves, COVID feels so intimate this time around. There are people around me catching it.

I have found myself stressed out, anxious and short tempered. On the positive side, I have been paying closer attention to myself. I have become more self aware, more mindful.

It is interesting to observe how I have been reacting to such stressful circumstances. The last time the world was as confusing as today was probably during 911. I remembered I woke up in the morning of 912 genuinely wishing everything was just a dream.

I am noticing more nuanced emotions. In the midst of hopelessness, I sensed the undercurrent of helplessness more precisely. I was able to pinpoint more accurately at why I lost motivation in doing anything- it was because nothing seemed to make a difference to the world events. I also noticed my desire to search for anchors. The serenity prayer grounded me surprisingly well!

I was also keenly aware of what wasn’t working. “To bounce back” didn’t resonate well with me. I did not think it was a right goal for me to try to return to the previous states of mind. Instead, I preferred how Ray Dalio coped with the loss of his son. They did not try to bounce back. They dove in and tried to embrace whatever mourning threw at them.

In the months after his son’s tragic and sudden death, Dalio and his family devoted daily morning hours to wrestle with trying to keep and let go of his son. They leant into the emotions together. They felt each other’s emotions deeply, bluntly, painfully. They dwelled on what it felt to empathize with oneself and each other. They exposed themselves to the full range of emotions, from fragility to softness, from despair to nostalgia, from guilt to grace, from regrets to serendipity.

Lastly, no matter which introspective path I took, I always ended at the same question, “Am I using my time the best way possible?”

I am glad we can confidently say yes. We are putting all our money and effort into trying to educate better. I am devoting all my time into counselling adults to be better leaders of themselves and other human beings.

I will work even harder in advocating for better parenting. I will be more fearless and turn my conviction on self mastery and self maintenance into something truly useful. I will challenge myself to get into emotionally charged topics and conversations, and work as hard as I can to stay calm, be kind, and be useful. I will push myself to get involved in the messiness of human communities. I will overcome my tendency to isolate myself. I will engage and participate. Dope-Dad WhatsApp groups and NFT discords, here I come!

And hopefully this current round of madness will prepare me well for whatever suffering “existence” will bring me next.

Then I saw the sink was stuck. I decided to tackle it. I took the trap off, removed the gunk, but I could not put it back together. The bathroom was littered with decomposed hair, bottles, and other mysterious cleaning utensils. The sink could not be used. The mess became the perfect visual reminder of a failure. It could not be unseen.

I felt defeated and that feeling spiralled into this desire to do nothing. All the motivations vanished. And then, guilt took over.

It is annoying how the mood works. It went from hope to guilt in an instant. I now have to dig myself out of it.

While this was inconvenient, I should be glad it happened. I managed to notice how I reacted. I was aware of the guilt and shame. I got to experiment with methods I have hoarded from self help blogs to mitigate these emotions. The method I tested, was to write.

I must say, by now, at this point of this piece, I already feel better. I feel a bit less guilty about not wanting to do anything. I feel okay to take a nap, do nothing.

Maybe I am moving angst and guilt out of the way in order to make room for motivation to re-emerge.

A small incident that pushed me to wean off of social media.

I posted something on LinkedIn this week. It was a image of an exciting upcoming event.

What I didn’t realise, was this image was not official. The moment I posted it, I got a few likes, and also a bunch of iMessages.

My buddies sent me one of those chain of messages where the bubbles stacked up and screamed “urgent!”:

“hi david”

“hey. r u there”

“that post on LinkedIn, you need to take it off”

“it’s not official yet”

“you there?”

—

“yo man”

“delete that post dude”

“hey man”

“can i call you?”

—

I deleted it promptly, thanked the folks that saved my butt. I also realised, I posted it, simply because … I wanted likes.

I have learned that this kind of posts have gartnered more likes that any other posts. When I saw the image, I wanted to post it, because I was craving for the recognition. I wasn’t aware of this desire. Looking back, it was clear to me that I was blinded by this desire to be liked, and did not do my homework to double check.

There are many posts I shared not because I think they were beneficial to others. Honestly, I was sharing things because I was going after the likes.

I crave for these likes, also because there were a few posts where I got a lot of views and likes, and I wanted more. It felt great when so many people were reading and liking my posts … wait, I mean … liking me.

When I first started to write online (or blog), it was back in the late 90s, when the internet just started. I was in university, and we were all given a domain to create our own websites.

I created my own website, and started putting down my thoughts there. There was no mechanism to track viewership or solicit feedback. Nothing. Therefore to me, it was an enjoyable routine because I got to write and imagine people reading my random thoughts.

Then in the early 2000s, I started writing on blogger. Again, the feedback and sharing mechanism was primitive. I chose this platform, because the promise of the platform was reach and readership. But I would never get any feedback or stats. I then created my own URL: www.minghon.com, and continued writing there. Same thing, there was simply zero feedback and sharing mechanism.

Then social media arrived, started with Friendster, then Facebook, kaixin, etc. We all went on that journey. likes, pokes, shares, comments.

When I wanted to write again, my motivations evolved. I wanted likes, shares, comments. I started writing on Facebook, then Medium, now LinkedIn. I was not aware of this change of desire.

…  …

1. I will continue to write here, because medium is almost like a rehab. The low traffic and reach will help wean me off of all the dopamine hits from other social media.
2. I will challenge myself to limit my activities on Twitter and LinkedIn.
3. I will do this by always asking myself, “Is this meaningful to others and … yes, humanity”, instead of “How does this help me build my brand?”.