Out of Breath Boy

When I wrote the last chapter of the book, all the stories about being trapped in a small loess courtyard at the age of fifteen came to an end. All the sadness, pain, and depression in the article were all my real personal experiences, without any fabrication or beautification. For a long time, I always hoped that someone could understand my pain, that my parents would see me suffering from asthma and suffocation all year round, that they would put aside their bias and show me some understanding, that the hospital door would not be chained, and that I could go out for a walk. But working day after day and countless late nights with coughing and insomnia told me that the understanding of others is always elusive, and I cannot rely on others to redeem myself. This chapter records the first time I mustered up the courage to reveal the grievances I had accumulated over the years to my family. It also writes down the rare warmth brought to me by teachers on campus. It also records all the plans I had hidden deep in my heart for a free life at the age of eighteen. I didn't hold grudges against my parents who didn't understand me, and I didn't blame my parents for not understanding me. I just slowly accepted all the scars on my body: the neck scars left by lymphoma, recurring asthma, the low self-esteem and sensitivity developed from long-term suppression, and countless moments when I broke down and cried alone. The entire novel, a picked-up old notebook, and half a pencil were my only sustenance. Words caught all my negative emotions that I had nowhere to express, and supported me through the closed days with no end in sight. If you, who are reading this book, are trapped at home, suffering from illness all year round, not being treated fairly by your family, and having no one around you to talk to, I hope my experience can give you some confidence to persevere. There is no need to force yourself to be sensible and tolerant. Find your own emotional outlet, settle down silently, and study hard. When you have the ability to live independently, you will be able to break free from the shackles in front of you and live a life of freedom without having to wrong yourself. At this point, the entire story of me, fifteen years old, in the loess courtyard is complete. Thank you for your patience in reading my scarred youth.

Chapter 9 writes about my real daily life of being locked up in a farmyard for a long time and enduring repeated suffering day after day. There is no fictitious embellishment at all. It is all about the life I experienced in the second half of the semester when I was fifteen. From spring to cold winter, I can't escape the confines of this yard all year round. On weekends, the door is locked and I can't even take a step out. I have to get up before dawn every day to do all the housework. Firewood smoke and yellow sand on the road always trigger my asthma. I have to bear the pain of suffocation by myself. Whenever I show a little bit of fatigue, my parents will only accuse me of being lazy and pretentious. My brother always has all the preferences and freedoms. He has the right to eat delicious food, loose control, and go out to play. I will be severely reprimanded even if I stand at the door of the courtyard to let the wind pass for two minutes. I was isolated from the world for a long time. I didn't dare to get close to my classmates at school. I was afraid that gossip would spread to my family and increase my control. I didn't dare to freely express my emotions at home. All the pain caused by grievances, imbalances, and illnesses could only be kept in my heart. Even though the teacher felt sorry for my health and came to my door many times to persuade my parents to take me for a review, what I got in the end was double the farm work and harsh criticism. The days of busy farming and cold winter were even more difficult. Wheat ash and cold wind constantly damaged my respiratory tract. I fell down and got injured, and my hands and feet suffered from frostbite and ulcers. No one ever cared about my injuries and illnesses. Everyone agreed that I should have kept working to atone for my sins. Countless late nights, I could only secretly take out a notebook to record my thoughts. Writing was my only emotional outlet. The long-term confinement made me have low self-esteem, silence, and sensitivity, and I fell into a vicious cycle of illness and depression. I often looked at the yard and saw no hope for life. I always felt that there was no end to the days of being imprisoned and not being treated well. I wrote this chapter to record that suffocating time when I was surrounded by shackles on all sides and had no empathy. If you have been restricted by your family for a long time and endured illness and unfair treatment alone, you will definitely understand my helplessness at that time. The next chapter will write about my expectations for the future, as well as my inner changes in slowly healing myself and supporting myself through words. Thank you for your willingness to calm down and read my story.

Chapter 8 is about my whole true experience of accidentally picking up an old notebook and relying on writing to survive during the depressing days with no end in sight, without any processing or beautification. During that time, no one in my family was willing to listen to my complaints. My parents would only consider my illness as a burden. I would always prefer my brother. I was strictly restricted from going out. I was also alienated and discussed by my classmates at school. Asthma tortures me every day. I am so tired that I suffocate, and I am so cold that I have chilblains. I dare not cry out when I am sad and wronged, for fear of being scolded. All the emotions are so blocked in my heart that I can hardly hold on. The old notebook I picked up by chance became the only place I could confide in. Only white paper would not accuse me of being pretentious, nor force me to be sensible, nor would I hide all my vulnerabilities. I could only wait until late at night when everyone was asleep and write secretly, hiding it tightly, for fear that my family would see the notebook and scold me for my random thoughts and waste of time. I was busy doing heavy work in the fields, walking on long roads filled with loess, suffering from coughing and insomnia all night long, feeling unbalanced, feeling inferior and despairing. All the words that I could not say out loud were written down on paper one by one. Gradually, I discovered that after writing out my thoughts, the depression in my heart would be much relieved, and even the asthma induced by emotions could be relieved a little. In reality, I have no close friends and no family who can protect me. I am trapped in a small farmhouse with no way to move around. I have been suffering from illnesses all year round, with no way out in sight. It was words that caught all my broken emotions and became my only remaining sustenance in the dark days. I write this chapter also to tell people like me who have been suppressed for a long time and no one understands me, that there is always a way to let go of your pain, and you don't have to force yourself to bear everything alone. The next chapter will be about the psychological torture and inner monologue that I experienced when I was stuck at home day after day, long-term isolation. Thank you for your willingness to read my story.

Chapter 7 is about the most destructive period when I was fifteen years old and just entering the first grade of junior high school. It is all personal experience and there is no exaggeration or fabrication. The root cause of the chemotherapy for malignant lymphoma when I was a child completely damaged my respiratory tract, and asthma became a daily torture. I have to get up before dawn every day to take care of all the housework. The smoke from firewood and the loess wind in the countryside are always irritating my lungs. Chest tightness and suffocation are the norm, but as long as I show a little bit of discomfort, my parents will only accuse me of pretending to be sick and being lazy. As a child in the same family, my brother always has preferences and freedoms. Delicious food, loose control, and a tolerant attitude all belong to him. Even if I slow down a little on the way to school or take a breath for two minutes at the gate of the courtyard, I will be severely reprimanded. On weekends, the gate is directly locked, and the scope of activities is only a small farmyard. I regarded studying as the only way out of my oppressive life. The wind and dust on the long dirt road aggravated my illness. I endured coughing and asthma in class, and I had to do all my homework late at night before I could do my homework. Long-term sleep deprivation, malnutrition, and emotional depression dragged down my body and mind. The teacher noticed my physical problems many times and took the initiative to communicate with my parents and asked me to seek medical treatment. However, my parents only thought that I was working with outsiders to find excuses to avoid work, and the control became more stringent. Day after day of fatigue, endless accusations of partiality, and grievances that have no place to release form a vicious circle. Suppressing emotions can induce asthma, aggravate illness, and lead to low self-esteem and low self-esteem, and the expectations in the heart are worn away bit by bit. During that time, I often huddled alone in the corner of the kang late at night, coughing and suffering from insomnia all night long. Looking at the dark roof, I fell into despair. I always felt that I was born to be a burden to the family, and it seemed that I would never be able to escape from this small loess courtyard where I was trapped. I write these memories to record the suffocating feeling of being a teenager with no way out and even breathing is a luxury. If you have not been understood by your family for a long time, suffered unfair treatment, and endured pain and suffering alone, you will definitely understand my helplessness at that time. The next chapter will describe the process of me slowly relying on writing to express my emotions and find my own spiritual sustenance. Thank you for being willing to calm down and read my story.

This chapter is all about the real days when I, Li Cuihong, was locked at home and strictly controlled. There is no exaggeration or fiction at all. I was ill when I was a child, and my family owed money for medical treatment. In the eyes of my parents, I seemed like I was born to be a burden. As a child in the same family, my brother can go out and play as he pleases, and he can have whatever he wants, and he will only say a few words lightly if he does something wrong. But I will be severely scolded even if I step out of the house to get some air. I am bound by all the rules. On weekends, the door is locked directly, and the scope of activities is only a small yard. I used to regard studying as the only way to escape from the prison, and I studied hard, thinking that I would have some freedom when I went to junior high school and went to school every day. As a result, my parents set a lot of harsh rules. If I came home late, I would be punished and work twice as hard. The loess on the road stimulates asthma, and you can only hold on until you feel cold all over. No one cares about injuries caused by falling or frostbite. Even if the school teachers noticed that I was in poor health and advised my parents to take me for treatment, they would just think that I was pretending to be sick and being lazy. There are endless chores to be done at home, and I feel scolded even if I want to take a break. The long-term partiality, depression, and fatigue have left me with no hope at all. During that time, I often hid in the woodshed crying alone. The dust choked me and I kept coughing and wheezing. It was the only place where I could not hold back my emotions. I wrote this paragraph to record the suffocating feeling of being completely trapped as a teenager. If you have also been strictly restricted by your family, not understood, and never treated fairly, you will definitely understand the despair I felt at that time when I could not see a way out. The next chapter will be about the time when all the depression, illness, and grievances broke out when I was fifteen years old and my life was completely locked. Thank you for your willingness to calm down and read my story.

Chapter 5 is about a real heart-stirring experience I had when I was in the fifth grade of elementary school. It is not made up to embellish it. All the sadness and heartbreak are what I have actually endured. I have been ignored and criticized at home for a long time, suffered from asthma all year round, and was always teased by my classmates at school. I have always been alone. That transfer student was the only person who was willing to treat me kindly and protect me during those dark days. That little bit of tenderness became my entire spiritual sustenance at that time. I carefully hid this good feeling, not asking for any results, just hoping that there would be a moment where I wouldn't have to bear the ill will alone. But a few gossips from others made it easy for him to distance himself from me, and in the end he even thought I was troublesome along with others. I was too young at the time and was full of sincerity. The moment I was pushed away, the disappointment, embarrassment and grievance almost overwhelmed me. No one stood by me at school, and I had no one to talk to at home. My sadness and breakdown would only result in scolding from my parents, and I could only hide and digest all my heartbreak. After this incident, I no longer dared to believe in the kindness of others. I built up a thick defense in my heart and never dared to show my sincerity to anyone easily. The long-term self-doubt and emotional internal conflict also aggravated my asthma, causing physical and mental injuries. I write down this memory, not to blame the boy back then, but to record the helplessness I felt when I was young. If you have ever treated someone with high expectations, only to be given up easily in the end, you will understand this disappointment. The next chapter will be about my depressive life when my family completely restricted my freedom and trapped me in a small courtyard when I grew up. Thank you for reading my story.

Chapter 4 writes about the real and difficult days after asthma caught me. All of them are my personal experiences, and there is no exaggeration or fiction at all. Three years of chemotherapy when I was a child completely damaged my respiratory tract. Coupled with the constant dust at home, endless heavy work, and long-term lack of food and nutrition, asthma naturally took its root. Every time I couldn't breathe, my chest felt like it was being suffocated, and I still remember the fear of being out of breath clearly until now. But in the eyes of my parents, all my discomforts were just pretending to be lazy, and coughing and wheezing caused by blowing the wind or doing farm work would only lead to accusations. Even if I was so breathless that I broke out in a cold sweat and couldn't stand still, no one was willing to help me, let alone spend money to take me to see a doctor or buy medicine. My brother would be taken good care of even if he had a minor illness. In contrast, I didn't even get a word of concern. When there is no peace and tranquility throughout the year, wind, dust, anger and grievance will all make me sick. I can only hold in my cough and breath all night long for fear of disturbing my family's sleep and getting scolded. The school doctor warned me that my heart and lungs were damaged, but my parents didn't care at all and allowed the disease to get worse day by day. The long-term pain and lack of understanding made me feel low self-esteem and depression. I wrote this paragraph to record the suffocating feeling of not being cared for for a long time. If you have been tortured by illness all year round and your family cannot understand your pain, you will definitely be able to sympathize with this helplessness. The next chapter will be about the short-lived and severely hurt feelings I had when I was young. Thank you for being willing to calm down and read my story.

The third chapter writes about my real daily life after I returned to my hometown after undergoing chemotherapy to cure my lymphoma. There is no exaggeration or fiction at all. It is all about the grievances I have personally experienced since I was a child. After I was cured, I thought I could live a stable life like an ordinary child. However, after returning home, all the pressure and dissatisfaction fell on me. All the delicious food and gentle treatment at home will always belong to my brother. I can never finish the housework. The wind, fatigue, and grievances lead to chest tightness and constant coughing. My family will only think that I am pretending to be sick and lazy, and completely ignore the doctor's original instructions not to overwork or vacuum. Growing up, I had no right to play and was locked up in a small courtyard to work. Others commented that I spent all the family money on medical treatment, and my parents always said that I was a drag. The long-term partiality and suppression gradually wore away all my confidence. My personality became silent and sensitive, and my respiratory tract also took root in the daily wear and tear. I am not writing these memories to gain sympathy, but no one has ever seriously listened to me talk about the grievances hidden deep in my heart in so many years. If you have not been favored by your family since childhood and have endured a lot of grievances alone, you will definitely understand the helplessness between the lines. The next chapter will tell about the days when I had a complete asthma attack and suffered from chronic pain. Thank you for reading my story.

The second chapter is about the most difficult period in my life. All of them are real things that happened, and there is no fabrication or embellishment. When I was four years old, I had a long neck. I traveled from the hospital in the town to the county seat, and finally went to Xi'an to be diagnosed with malignant lymphoma. I underwent bone marrow puncture, three years of chemotherapy, non-stop vomiting and hair loss. I personally endured every pain. I was too young at that time and didn't understand how scary cancer was. I just remember that my parents kept arguing and complaining along the way. Everyone thought that I was a burden to the family. My savings were spent on treatment and it was a drag on the family's life. During the three years I was hospitalized, I was rarely treated with tenderness. Breaking down in pain and crying would only be met with scolding. It was also difficult for me to eat nutritious food. All good things at home were given to my brother first. The doctor repeatedly told me to take good care of my body, but no one took it to heart when I returned to my hometown. Long-term depression and lack of nutrition also laid the root of my future asthma. I wrote this experience not to gain sympathy, but to record the memory that has been hidden in my heart for more than ten years and no one is willing to listen to it. If there are any readers who have been seriously ill and are not understood by their family members, I hope you can know that I understand all your difficult moments. The following chapters will describe the depressing daily life after returning home from chemotherapy. Thank you for being willing to calm down and read my story.

This chapter is about my earliest memories, the loess house, the biweekly boarding, and the endless dirt roads. There is no fiction at all. I am fifteen this year, and I am often out of breath when I am trapped in a small courtyard. I can only write down the grievances that have been hidden in my heart since I was a child and no one listens to me. When other people were young, their parents would pick them up and drop them off, and they could go home at any time. When I was a child, I could only walk on mountain roads for two or three hours with my brother who was in junior high school. The stories all come from my real life, and the words are not very good-looking. They are simply records of my depressive and difficult childhood. If you have ever had a childhood where you were not favored by your family and felt lonely and miserable, I hope you can understand the helplessness hidden between the lines. In the following chapters, I will slowly talk about my experience of seeking medical treatment when I got sick. Thank you for stopping and reading my story.