This part of my life is called Floating. This is when I move through life emotionless, feeling neutral towards everything. This is when everything, even the most supposedly exciting circumstance, becomes mundane and boring. This is when the brain refuses to absorb and process new information, when there is resistance to accept additional responsibility.
This is the time when I start to look back and lose faith. Perhaps I made the wrong choice to stay. Perhaps I shouldn't be studying hearts at all. Perhaps I should have gone hiding, gone somewhere remote and be a barrio doctor instead. Or to Somalia or Afghanistan and work in war-torn areas. At least I'd be useful.
But the choices were already made. There's no turning back. The only way to go is to float. Not resisting, not moving at all, just floating. Even driftwood finds dry land one way or another.