Fourth day in Okinawa

Yesterday I ventured forth to Cape Manzamo and Nabee Beach via the university shuttle which has a stop about 15 minutes walk away from the above two locations. The fairly successful outing has emboldened me to try my luck tomorrow with the city bus number 120 to visit Ryukyu Village, and possibly a local supermarket via another university shuttle. Hope it goes well.

For today, we stuck close to campus (again). Aside from the three hour long downtime from 1 to 3pm when I homeschooled Dex and waited for the baby to complete his nap, we were on the move from 9am until almost 9pm.

Morning beach play date with a postdoc's family

Vegan lunch takeout

Karate lesson

(Fun fact: Karate originated from Okinawa) 

Dinner / play date with a faculty member's family

Salad, veggie fried rice, red lentil soup with coconut milk, buckwheat with enoki mushrooms, and guacamole (not pictured) 

I really like Okinawa. Especially the nontouristy parts. It was this way for Venice too.

First day in Okinawa

Everyone I know thinks I'm on this awesome family vacation full of rest and excitement, but in reality this is just another work trip for Daniel in which daily life for us gets a temporary week long relocation. The university the husband is researching at for the week is very much out in the boonies, far away from all the fun, touristy features of this Japanese prefecture. We arrived at 10pm yesterday night; I looked up and saw stars and actual constellations in the absence of any light pollution.

Regardless of other people's illusions, I'm glad to see a new place. Oftentimes I would rather experience the mundane lives of local people than the frenetic activities of tourism. Today comprised of playing two board games with the kids in the morning, checking out the campus and all the truly fascinating research that are taking place here, homeschooling Declan who is missing a week of school, hiking around to seek out reasonably priced food sources, and going to a play group.

I love how international this place of research is! At the playgroup, there was a Japanese story time, which I enjoyed immensely more so than the kids did as my Japanese fluency level was perfect for the preschool storybooks. (Booyah!) The kids ended up playing with kids whose parents were from Israel, Russia, Taiwan (besides me, I mean), and Pittsburgh! The Pittsburgh mom actually went to high school with one of my ex-boyfriends' brother. Small world. The Israeli mom invited us to her home in the faculty apartments for dinner, but Daniel came back from the day's research a bit depressed and wanted to just hang out with family. So I sadly declined. It was so nice to hang out with a bunch of intellectual stay at home moms who are familiar with cross cultural concerns. I miss being understood.

After dinner (Petra, as the birthday girl, requested penne, so I made an onion-mushroom-broccoli tomato sauce to go with a pot of that), the kids and I took a night walk with the husband to his lab and research unit space. One can just feel the energy of all the scientific explorations underway even as we strolled by. I showed the husband where the kids broke the water cooler and soaked the carpet in the resource center, and also the defibrillator whose alarm Petra set off when she went a-pokin'. 

Some chess pieces were missing 

so I told Declan to improvise

For tomorrow, and so on, I am once again on my own in planning our schedule sans transportation. Just taking it one day at a time and thank God today was really fun!

By kindly power surrounded

Learning this song for church choir. The music is set to the following poem written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. The score I received noted it was the last poem he wrote in prison before he was executed. So much respect for this brave man of God. So much honor to be able to sing and share the thoughts of one who so fully trusted our maker.

By kindly powers surrounded, peaceful and true,
wonderfully protected with consolation dear,
safely, I dwell with you this whole day through,
and surely into another year.

Though from the old our hearts are still in pain,
while evil days oppress with burdens still,
Lord, give to our frightened souls again,
salvation and thy promises fulfill.

And shouldst thou offer us the bitter cup, resembling
sorrow, filled to the brim and overflowing,
we will receive it thankfully, without trembling,
from thy hand, so good and ever-loving.

But if it be thy will again to give
joy of this world and bright sunshine,
then in our minds we will past times relive
and all our days be wholly thine.

Let candles burn, both warm and bright,
which to our darkness thou has brought,
and, if that can be, bring us together in the light,
thy light shines in the night unsought.

When we are wrapped in silence most profound,
may we hear that song most fully raised
from all the unseen world that lies around
and thou art by all thy children praised.

By kindly powers protected wonderfully,
confident, we wait for come what may.
Night and morning, God is by us, faithfully
and surely at each newborn day.

A truly nothing day

So this is what I did today:

Woke up coughing uncontrollably
Nursed the baby, whom I woke with my coughing and his own coughing, back to sleep
Got up to make breakfast burritos for everyone
Woke the kids up for school, helped get them dressed
Went to ENT clinic with J
Picked up flu medicine for us both and walked home
Lied back down in bed, breathing heavily and coughing

Lied in bed
Nursed the baby
Lied in bed
Ruining my eyes on the smartphone while lying in bed
Nursed the baby

Yep, that's about it.

Back to lying in bed

Let the decluttering begin!

I wonder if I would be as obsessed diligent as I try to be in keeping our household on the minimalist end of possessions if we lived in a house as opposed to an old walk-up apartment?

But the fact on the ground is I get so tired of the Sisyphean routine of sorting toy messes everyday after the kids rip through the rooms. Seems rather inefficient to clean, say, two hours for every 30 minutes of play.

So I gave away two armfuls of toys to a newly renovated vegan restaurant near D's school that we often frequent for lunch.  I hope their vision of a play area by the dining tables turn out to be an invaluable asset for business and atmosphere. 

After coming home, I also recycled about a small bag worth of plastic and paper toys. More to sort through tomorrow, including laundry aka too much clothing. How did we accumulate just so much stuff merely from halting our nomadic lifestyle for a year or two? My spending habits really must change.

As I took breaks from downsizing, I thought fondly of our week-long stays in Milan, Louvain la Neuve, and Bielefeld. In each of these places, we had stayed at airbnb-style housings furnished with the bare necessities and very simple kitchenettes. I enjoyed the simplicity of it all and hardly felt any lack. Surely if we can get by for a week on that kind of setup, there really is no need for anything more in our "real" day-to-day life.

I have to be careful, though, not to accidentally embed secret hoarding instincts in my children by going too austere too suddenly. These little housemates sure like to collect things...

This particular housemate tried to keep a whole bunch of to-be-donated items by sitting on them. I sense a future environmental activist who will protect ancient trees by the human shield method. Good practice, buddy. 

It's a wonderful life (the movie)

Finally convinced my philistine of a husband to watch It's A Wonderful Life to completion (next challenge: Sound of Music). He had resisted on account of it being black and white, but pitied me in my enterovirus suffering and sat through a screening with me.

Some takeways:

Jimmy Stewart really was a wonderful actor. Never tire of this guy.

George Bailey may be a great guy, but he's not a good manager of people. He could have hired someone competent to manage the Building and Loans while he actually takes a vacay abroad every now and then. And for goodness' sake, don't entrust the entire treasury to someone like Uncle Billy!

Kind of hilarious that the worst fate for Mary if George was never born was that she became "an old maid". Apparently being an unmarried librarian (which btw is one of my ideal life scenarios) is far worse than, say, getting married to an alcoholic spouse that beats her every night. Because...at least she wouldn't have stayed single?

There needs to be an epilogue or something where the guy who pushes Potter's wheelchair exposes the mystery of the missing $8000 and Potter either ends up being mauled by the mob or jailed for petty theft. The happy ending seems quite lacking in justice.

But still a sweet movie.

Okay, need to run an errand with the kids soon and see if I've recovered well enough to do this.

FIRST... woo-hoo!

I know, I know... I've neglected this blog shamefully this past year. All of my highfalutin' talk about writing more is deliberately counteracted in direct proportion with how much I ended up not writing. How dare you try to better yourself, my self-destructive streak huffed, we shall see about that! 

Ah well.

No grandstanding promises for this year,  except small incremental changes. No beating myself up for failures, except just to dust myself off and try again.

The small changes I'm thinking of:

1. Limit internet escapist consumption - only check FB weekly to touch base with friends; no more Babycenter groups except maybe 15 minutes catch up on Friday night nursing sessions.

2. Aim for 20 minute blocks of the following activities daily, to repeat when possible: exercise, praying/meditation, actively playing with one or more kids, food prep/cooking, housework (laundry/dishes, tidying, for examples), singing practice, reading a good book

3. Use these activities rather than former bad habits like zoning out on the internet or emotionally eating to get through blah days: listening to an audiobook or playing informative YouTube channels in background while doing chores, taking baby for a short walk/errand.

4. Curb my material consumption by less readily buying things. This will save our money for experiences and community projects we support, as well as free up space and cleanup time.

My immediate family unit spent the three-day weekend mostly cooped up at home sick. The baby had/has classic markings of hand-food-mouth disease all over him and the husband and I were coughing up our lungs. I completely lost my voice. So I mostly rested, cleaned enough for the kids to keep making messes, cooked simple dishes, rinse and repeat.

It was surprisingly cozy and stress-free.

5. Be more at peace with staycations and just being together. Control my FOMO, because I'm just thankful now for good food, clean water and air (the air quality index was HAZARDOUS on the last day of 2017), healthy bodies, and everyone not fighting with each other. That is enough. Seriously.

One cannot tell how sick we are in this shot...

which is why social media is a lie

snapshots of daily life

At P's dance class tonight, I puzzled over the music that blared in the background to one of the dance sequences... before I identified it as Britney Spears' "Gimme More". Techno-ed up with some house dance genre twists to be sure, but these are kindergarten-age girls. Not sure how to feel about that. Must confess I personally find some of Britney's music videos surprisingly hypnotic and hard to disengage from, but not necessarily because of admiration or beautiful musicality. I guess that's what they call star quality?

D came home with a new notebook he was doodling on; he said one of his classmates traded that for part of his lunch. Apparently there was a bid between several contenders. Flattered (since I make his lunches), I asked which item they were fighting over. "The cheerios, Mom." Yes, I did include some cheerios that I can't find anywhere here and brought back from the US. They're fortified with calcium and B12 which I worry D doesn't get enough of. So much for my culinary prowess.

This past Sunday, it occurred to me at various times at church service that so-and-so is probably the kind of person one of my ex-boyfriend will eventually become. Both of them could be considered the best products of the Taiwanese education system: Upstanding professionals in leadership positions. A bit blind to social injustices and the plight of the poor. A bit lacking in creativity and imagination but makes up for it with strong work ethics. Another so-and-so reminded me of my high school nemesis/frenemy: Very talented and knows it too. Wants to be highly regarded by others and feel slighted if others don't obviously do so. A bit of a prima donna but old enough now to temper it with some humor and allowances for other people's strengths.

Both people are of the age range my ex-bf, hs frenemy, and I will land in the next 20 years. That made me wonder who I would remind myself of as an outside observer. On the ride home, it crossed my mind that I hope I would become like Jennifer, the pastor's wife. But then, another thought crossed my mind: But she has become the way she is (patient, kind, wise, strong in so many ways) because she endured and overcame a lot of shit.

Oh man. Would it be possible for me to become like her without needing to go through that process? Something tells me I won't like the honest answer, and the question is really: am I willing?

a major pet peeve: gender conditioning

Be forewarned, this is a vent. Or a rant. Or whatever you call uncensored verbal diarrhea heedless of "*gasp* you can't say that!"

No matter how much people in the present-day mock the supposedly antiquated sexism of 1950s US as codified in housewife manuals or even Wellesley education or embedded in marketing psychology, I look forward to the day, possibly never, when people in the future would be ridiculing and mocking today's society regarding male and female roles/responsibilities with equal fervor.

I'm so f*cking tired of being told or counselled that "men and women process things differently." I mean, sure, that's not untrue. The stereotypes are true to a certain extent: men are generally less thoughtful and attuned to nuance; more goal-oriented; longs for big goals and wild adventures; most bolstered by appeal to ego and praise etc...

Oh wait. Aren't some women that way too?

No, no, those kind of women are the minority of their penis-lacking gender. Women are generally more nurturing than men. They just think differently. Must be born that way.

BULLSHIT.

I paid for a voice lesson session on Tuesday, and discovered that in my more than a decade of performance-level choral and a cappella singing, that I have been breathing and exerting sound projection all wrong. Just one hour of instruction has made a vast improvement in my support, volume, comfort, and now also confidence in how I can sing a piece like Panis Angelicus. All the years that I wished I could have taken voice lessons--turns out I really should have.

But I noticed, as I was practicing Panis Angelicus today, that I could either focus on proper techniques in breathing and projection or I could focus on still trying to memorize the lyrics and melody. I couldn't do both at the same time, as whenever I really dwell on the song itself all of my bad breathing habits returned. So, I realized, I need to practice the proper techniques every day as my voice teacher instructed until that muscle memory is wired into me as a new habit.

And I can't help but wonder just how much of the way men function, like the way my husband claims he's trying his best to be an equal partner in running the household and raising the kids and yet once again today left me 60 meters away to wrangle the baby and try to record an event as expected by our son while he enjoyed our son's sprint race completely unencumbered (spoiler: I missed seeing everything during the attempted juggle and still failed to get adequate footage), is simply due to low expectations. Very low expectations. Nonexistent, really.

When people of the female persuasion are both subtly and overtly trained to be more considerate of other people's feelings and desires since they're, say, three years old, I bet one hundred dollars the majority of them would become fairly nurturing and knowledgeable about other people's emotional cues and needs by the time they're adults. It would almost seem like...hmm...maybe...it's just their nature!

When people of the male persuasion are encouraged with "boys will be boys" or their behaviors or lack thereof apologetically explained away with the "fact" that being more sensitive or considerate doesn't come naturally to males, I bet one hundred trillion dollars the majority of them would take advantage and enjoy that free ticket out of needing to do the emotional work in interpersonal relationships, without even realizing they've been given this pass.

Just like with my singing training, the muscle memory of emotional work takes effort. Or maybe I'm just not naturally a singer. Versus that opera singer who never needed any training. You know, the one that always rides onstage with her unicorn.

The next person to counsel me about my "high" expectation of guys pulling their weight in managing this world on a society, business, national, family, or individual level with "You have to understand that men are just not built that way" gets a punch in the face. Except I'm trying to be more loving and merciful, so maybe just a kick to the shin.

a life-changing understanding

Excerpts from Sinners in the Hands of a Loving God by Brian Zahnd

"The justice of God is restorative...the cross is where God saves the world through self-sacrificing love...The cross is where God in Christ absorbs human sin and recycles it into forgiveness. At Golgatha humanity violently sinned its sins into Jesus. Jesus bore these sins all the way down into death and left them there. On the third day Jesus arose without a word of vengeance, speaking only 'Peace be with you ' on that first Easter (John 20:19)...The cross is both ugly and beautiful. The cross is as ugly as human sin and as beautiful as divine love--but in the end love and beauty win." -pg. 86-88

"The cross is a cataclysmic collision of violence and forgiveness. The violence part of the cross is entirely human. The forgiveness part of the cross is entirely divine. The Roman cross was an instrument of imperial violence that Jesus transformed into a symbol of divine love." - pg. 101

"...the cross heaps shame on the rulers and authorities that preside over structural sin...At the cross the principalities are stripped of their cloaks of legitimacy so that their naked bid for power is exposed to the world for what it really is. God didn't crucify Jesus; Rome and the Sanhedrin did. Now the cross forever shames the rich and powerful who seek to preserve their privilege and position through the use of violence. Their pretentious claim that they are wise and just enough to use violent means to achieve good ends is put to everlasting shame." -pg. 107

"'In this way, he disarmed the spiritual rulers and authorities. He shamed them publicly by his victory over them on the cross.'" - Colossians 2:15, NLT

"God did not kill Jesus, but Jesus's death is a sacrifice. Jesus sacrificed his life to show us the love of the Father...When we say Jesus died for our sins, we mean something like this: We violently sinned our sins into Jesus, and Jesus revealed the heart of God by forgiving our sins. By saying 'we'...I mean that all of us are more or less implicated by our explicit or tacit support of the systems of violent power that frame our world...At Golgatha human sin is seen as utterly sinful. God did not require the death of Jesus, but our sinful systems certainly did!" -pg. 108-109

"On Good Friday we see that our violent system of blame and ritual killing is so evil that it is capable of the murder of God. And once we see it, we can repent of it, be forgiven for it, and be freed from it. This is how the cross saves the world...in Christ [God] give us a new way of organizing the world. Instead of being organized around blame and ritual killing, the world is to now be organized around forgiveness and cosuffering love...The cross is the place where human fear and anger are absorbed into God's eternal love and recycled into the saving mercy of Christ." -pg. 114

"Very early in the morning the leading priests, the elders, and the teachers of religious law--the entire high council--met to discuss their next step. They bound Jesus, led him away, and took him to Pilate, the Roman governor.
      Pilate asked Jesus, 'Are you the king of the Jews?'
      Jesus replied, 'You have said it.'
      Then the leading priests kept accusing him of many crimes, and Pilate asked him, 'Aren't you going to answer them? What about all these charges they are bringing against you?' But Jesus said nothing, much to Pilate's surprise.
Now it was the governor's custom each year during the Passover celebration to release one prisoner--anyone the people requested. One of the prisoners at that time was Barabbas, a revolutionary who had committed murder in an uprising. The crowd went to Pilate and asked him to release a prisoner as usual.
     'Would you like me to release to you this 'King of the Jews'?' Pilate asked. (For he realized by now that the leading priests had arrested Jesus out of envy.) But at this point the leading priests stirred up the crowd to demand the release of Barabbas instead of Jesus. Pilate asked them, 'Then what should I do with this man you call the king of the Jews?'
     They shouted back, 'Crucify him!'
     'Why?' Pilate demanded. 'What crime has he committed?'
     But the mob roared even louder, 'Crucify him!'
     So to pacify the crowd, Pilate released Barabbas to them. He ordered Jesus flogged with a lead-tipped whip, then turned him over to the Roman soldiers to be crucified."

- Mark 15:1-15, NLT

"What God willed was that Jesus be faithful to truth and love so that through Jesus's violent and sinful death we would be liberated from violence, sin, and death. The sacrifice of Jesus is the ultimate gift of love offered to a world distorted by hate, where death is wielded as the supreme weapon." -pg. 84

"Golgatha is where all the great crimes of humanity...are dragged into the searing light of divine judgment...we see the system of human organization that we blithely call 'civilization' for what it is: an axis of power enforced by violence so corrupt that it is capable of murdering God in the name of what we call truth, justice, and liberty. At the cross we discover that the God revealed in Christ would rather die in the name of love than kill in the name of freedom. In Christianity the supreme value is not freedom but love. We can kill in the name of freedom, but in the name of love we suffer and forgive." -pg. 86

"We are worthy of God's love and healing not on the basis of personal merit but because of the image we bear: the very image of God." -pg. 108

wonder woman: quick right-after-first-viewing thoughts

Finally watched Wonder Woman in theater:
1. Definitely not suitable for children
2. As romantic as any romance genre movie. Actually 100x better, because there is a common goal and respectful push and pull that's not about emotions but about what needed to be done. (Self-sacrificial *useful* acts = seriously sexy)
3. The decision to change the time setting to WWI and using Gal Gadot's aura of childlike innocence to explore the themes of justice, grace, essence of humanity...excellently done
4. There *is* something contradictory about a hero(ine) who seeks to bring about peace through lethal fighting... yet the enemy combatants, save one, weren't completely villified and the movie did impress upon me the absolute waste and unnecessary carnage that is war.

As good a movie as mainstream Hollywood could produce this far. From me, a very high praise.

"May you get what you need, may you get what you want, and may you never get what you deserve."

for all intent and purpose

I thought about starting a brand spanking new blog (why this phrase "spanking"? Is it referring to how newborn babies used to get slapped on the butt?), but it's so rare that anything have continued with me for so long that I am unwilling to abandon it just yet.

The desire to start afresh stems from a new resolve to hold a more positive attitude in life. I have no doubt the same problems in my marriage, childrearing, personal habits, etc... will continue to bubble up regularly, but I'm ready to orient myself differently in response to them.

Since I got off bed rest last year, and the family changed to a new local church for weekly services, I've gotten to know better the husband and wife pastoral team.  Their way of teaching and caring for the people here as well as the home churches in China makes me hold them in high regard. In attending their parenting class and marriage counseling, my respect has risen even more. They are the first church leaders in my personal experience who actually point out via the Bible that parents should *not* hit their kids to discipline and wives' submission doesn't mean the husband has the first and final say in difficult decisions. Sad but true for my personal experience; I suspect a lot of things would have been better if they'd been the husband's and my premarital counselors. Not that our previous pastors were all so terrible... I think they just didn't understand where I was coming from and so labelled me as "rebellious" or that I think my way is superior. Wouldn't be the first time, probably won't be the last. Perhaps it's my communication style...

being a lemming (kinda)

So I've finally (surreptitiously) jumped onto the Whole30 wagon. I feel slightly embarrassed about it, because intentionally restrictive food choices is such a first world behavior. Daniel had a similar experience when he was chatting with the morning Starbucks barista. They were sharing summer plans, and Daniel tried to push back on the barista's description of our family's "summering in the US". Because the term "summering" conjures in Daniel's mind rich, possibly snobbish elitist aristocrats who own real estate that they rotate in residing. I pointed out that while we don't own property, we are rich in resources through family and friends, and btw that's Starbucks he's drinking. (Starbucks is high-end coffee in Taiwan.)

This is my rich, possibly snobbish elitist aristocrat moment, but I finally decided it's worth the admission because:

1. My two sons have major eczema issues, and I suspect it's food related. There are too many outside forces to put my oldest on a restrictive diet under suspicions only, but for my part, I can sleuth for the allergens by seeing if cutting out the usual suspects would impact my youngest for the better.

2. Due to the c-section, I have been ho-hum about returning to an exercise program. No exercise + obscenely large appetite due to breastfeeding = still gaining weight. While Whole30 is not a diet in that way, I'm hoping it will provide more structure to the way I eat.

3. Just curious about the hype. Decided to experiment directly rather than just read the reviews.

It's (only) been 3 days. I don't expect too many changes to happen on a physiological level, since I already eat pretty healthfully, but I do expect (and am already seeing) a lot of psychological shifts, such as:

1. I'm a lot more intentionally about what I'm eating, because I have to consider the ingredients. Catching myself from time to time while seasoning the food I'm about to eat, I had not realized how much little bits of honey and soy sauce I use throughout the day. That adds up, I suspect. I am feeling some sugar withdrawal/weakness. I miss chocolate a lot. A lot less snacking on that end too. Since Whole30 calls for three square meals and minimal snacking (no snacking a few hours before bed), I've had more "real meals" instead of just grabbing bites here and there as I care for the baby throughout the day.

2. I didn't realize how much I turn to food when bored or tired. Not snacking before bed has been a major change. I tend to snack then because it's one part victory that I finished another day and many more parts of indulgence because my life right now is far from what I desire so I eat (usually a lot of chocolate) to feel a little better.

3. Even after Whole30 ends, I think I'll continue to read ingredients on food items so I'll only buy the most natural (least amount of additives) items. There are sugar in everything! I couldn't even use sirarcha or vinegar salad dressing (added sugar). The TaiTai brand and Costco marinara are the only "before" sauces in the fridge that I can currently use.

4. Had not realized how much my kids depend on me to eat their leftovers before fresh food is made. Now that I've been cooking for myself only again, I get to eat more items I like but haven't made in a long time, like shrimp, squid, loofah... And I wonder why I have restricted myself just because other family members don't eat them. I also cook in more knowledgeable portions for everyone so there are less leftovers. Still some, but nothing that stretches more than three more meals. Fresh food is definitely more enjoyable to eat.

5. Changes in seasoning -- now that I can't use soy sauce and don't have access to coconut aminos yet, food has been blander than before...initially. Now I wonder if I'd been overloading on sodium because food is tasty again by day 3 without the previous level of saltiness. Plus I'm branching out into using other spices and nonsugared/nonsoy-based sauces like balsamic vinegar and stone ground mustard.

Will record more realizations as/if they arise.

project start writing again

Every time I turn down another request by a former colleague to take on some classes for NCTU, I know it's one more broken twine on the rope precariously tethering me to the possibility of returning to a professional life I'd just started before going on bedrest. But I had to snip down again two weeks ago because I just couldn't in good conscience leave a three-month-old baby to a babysitter while I taught subjects that I didn't really care that much about (ESL) or interrupt Daniel's work which is a lot more Valuable and Important than anything I'm doing right now.

My rejection, once again, of a life apart from being supporting cast to everyone else in the family got me thinking about what ifs. What if I could have the freedom to do whatever I want again given where I am now? What if God hadn't surprise-dropped this new life in the form of an awful pregnancy and vulnerable infant into my lap?

It's been so long since I've seriously, really seriously, considered the what-ifs, that I honestly don't have an answer. Let's be honest; even when I was an unhampered single young working barely-adult, I didn't have a real answer either. Sometimes, I feel like I got married and had kids just for lack of a more meaningful-seeming path. Turns out, that's like trying to solve the problem of not having enough money (in this case--direction) by going on a shopping spree with fifty credit cards or something. My point is the miasma of how to live the Ideal Life gets a million times denser.

As consolation after I sent the email response to the NCTU request, I resolved to try writing regularly again. For what purpose and to which audience? I can't say as of now. I suspect this is one of those rare situations in which putting the cart before the horse can still be useful because now the cart and horse are in the same vicinity at least. I also find it kind of ironic that I was tasked with leading Ecclesiastes 1:12-2:16 for bible study this past Sunday ("all is vanity/the wise and the fool both come to the same end") as well as one of my best friends visiting from the States (major yay!) who shared about her career dissatisfactions. Ok, God, message received. I need to be careful about not making work/job/career an idol, as I know I'm apt to do.

I also remember once bouncing ideas about what I could be doing in the future off of my Most Excellent Boss, the director of the CMU department I was teaching for, and I remembered that, on one hand, she encouraged my brainstorming, and on the other hand, she shared with me that even the shiniest job I might acquire may not be as all that as I seemed to expect.

But all of the above is like telling a destitute man that money can't buy happiness.

Anyway, baby steps. Back to the cart-horse mentality for now, I'm going to try to write on this blog more regularly to get me back in the habit of writing. Something, anything. I wish I can write like Seattle Moxie, who'd previously blogged regularly during her stay in Paris for three years and who is now turning that blog into a book.

She's really funny and talented. Definitely a writer. I don't know what I'm doing with my life apart from hiding behind my husband and children.

small victory

Got in a 50-minute swim session today. First swim since three months plus two days ago (pre c-section). Felt my abdominal muscles tug every now and then when I kicked harder, but overall my fear of the scar being affected negatively by the sustained exposure to water is no longer necessary.

Woohoo!

Extra celebratory confetti for J falling asleep right before the husband picked us up. He (the baby) stayed asleep throughout the husband's "business" lunch (with a visiting scholar) while I swam. We reconnected exactly at the math department as both of us were returning from our previous respective locations.

Still feel flabby and weak, but glad to have gotten that swim in so my year-long swim pass doesn't go to waste.

three months old yo!

humbled

A friend just stopped by briefly with a huge flower bouquet, will-be-greatly-enjoyed presents for Petra and the family, as well as financial support for marriage counseling. She'll also babysit the kids while the husband and I go to said counseling.

This reminds me of the flowers and gifts friends and family abroad sent during my bedrest, and the notes of encouragement and concern as well now.

If nothing else, I'm learning that I do have people who genuinely care about me. That I am cared for, even though I'm physically far away from so many of my friends and even though everyone's life is full.

I really appreciate it. I don't know why I need so much help. I know I don't deserve so much kindness. Thank you, friends, for wanting to help and really helping and accepting me in my brokenness. Thank You, God, for filling my life with so many great people who're willing to sit in the ashes with me.

I hope I can become just as encouraging, loving, and helpful to those in need around me.

every time every single time

It's pretty clear to me now that my husband doesn't respect me. At least certainly doesn't think me equal to himself. It became crystal clear today after years of confusion, hurt, and attempts to make myself be understood--to understand things myself--when I tried to make myself be understood for the last time. As I vented, once again, about how incredibly deserted I felt last night to be waiting again in vain for backup help with the baby and so I could start on my usual two hours' worth of chores before I sleep around 1am or 2am, he replied, "You think you're better than me, huh. Talking to me with that smirk on your face."

Smirk? When I could not possibly be any sadder or feel more lonely ever in my life? It didn't even make sense, for him to focus on whether I thought I was better than he is or not. Unless the primary concern in any of our exchanges is who has the upper hand at the moment. Who is In the Right.

It all makes sense now. When I had been desperately making sacrifices, trying to make things work between us, his inability to understand just how desperate I'm becoming is because he's focusing on who is superior. And of course, he wins every time hands down because I gave more of a damn.

Well, not anymore.

That time in Zurich when I spent the whole Saturday after an entire week already of taking care of the kids by myself in an expensive foreign country, waiting while the kids played at an amusement park in the suburbs--periodically pestering complete strangers to use their smartphone to message him our whereabouts then leaving time, only to return to our hotel at the end of the day to find that, other than one facebook message asking where I was, he spent the rest of the supposed promised day off blithely hanging out with people he's already hung out with for the entire week.

Edited to add after original posting: The cherry on top was that the next day I got apprehended then fined by the Zurich police for not buying the right tram ticket to the airport. I and only I. He bought the correct ticket for himself. Just remembered this. How the hell did I get over this?

That time when we were getting married when I spent the whole day repeatedly trying to track down my groom because the wedding schedule couldn't wait and my friends who're helping to run the wedding with me were asking where the groom was so we could get on with the program but he was busy returning to hang out with his buddies, making sure they were having a ball.

That time I tried to help him with school documents and math department procedures, and he treated me with 1/10000th of the respect he would have shown the department secretaries, and when I protested, he resolved the task at hand by contacting other department people without caring that his ignoring me was the equivalent of saying "Who needs you?"

Many times when I really would prefer not to do certain life-changing things, but he used religious or moral arguments to strong-arm me into situations I really was not and am not comfortable with but that he really wanted for himself. And the many times that I was signaling, begging, and then demanding for his presence of mind or physical support with the family and I must wait patiently or impatiently as he continues to hover over his beloved laptop or acquaintances he's busy conversing with. One of these times, the kids ended up pouring out two entire nearly-full tanks of floor cleaning products and were slipping and sliding in them in the bathroom while he was in the other room on his computer as I returned home from updating my resume at an office.

I do not deny that I have played a part in all this. He could not have succeeded in making me feel as trashy and wasted as I do now without my consent, no matter how half-hearted. It's just that today, I finally see the root reason for why it keeps happening, and I really do not deserve this. I am not lesser than.

Everything in our relationship makes sense now. It also makes my stomach turn every time I really think about it, but it's good to have that clarity going forward.

a breather

Not gonna lie, life is psychologically so hard right now.

I say psychologically because I know physically I have it pretty good. Like 100% better than people dodging barrel bombs in Syria, or risking drownings on the Mediterranean Sea, or even just being homeless or in debt. My kids are all finally healthy, not in the NICU like another friend's child, fighting for his life.

But I am still on the brink of losing it. Snapping. Shaking the baby or striking the older kids. Cutting myself. Just whatever it is to end this drudgery of motherhood. I feel the danger lurking just out of my immediate vicinity. I feel afraid every day right now, of myself and whether today is the day I go AWOL.

It is coming on 10:30pm and just as every night this month, I am only beginning to start on all the chores that must be done. After finally passing off the baby who insists on being held all day long.

I'm pathetic at this mothering thing. Maybe life thing in general.

Before I start again, I will finish this matcha drink and read just a little more from this digital book about young people renting studios and working out their careers, trying to make it in Taipei. I will not will not will not snap at my oldest child for wailing melodramatically about being scared when he should be sleeping right now. It was my fault for letting him watch Troll Hunters. Argh.

the waiting place

Daniel's right. It's all about waiting right now.

Waiting for the baby to fall asleep. To nurse again. To poop so I can change him immediately to stay ahead of the diaper rashes.

Waiting for Declan's chicken pox to go away so he can resume normal life routines.

Waiting for my c-section wound to heal so I can use my swim pass again.

Waiting for more time to pass so I feel less postpartum and less easily overwhelmed (and pudgy).

Waiting for 4am and more lights to turn on in the apartment units across the street, so I can feel the panicky feeling that grows in proportion with the deepening of the night to shrink as a new day advances.

Waiting for the 4pm pickup music to air by the elementary school near our home so I can feel some measure of relief that another work day is ending. Waiting for the nightly 30 minute walk I get to take alone through the neighborhood.

Waiting for life to become easier again. I think I've already said that, but who knows my brain is so fuzzy.

Waiting is so dully difficult, but necessary, so it is what I am doing for now. I'm thankful for all the little things that make it more bearable, and that I don't need to, say, work for a living or flee a war while I'm doing so.

i'm baaaack

Had a lot of back and forth in my mind before I committed to three weeks of staying at the postpartum care center, but then after the c-section I decided I'll need the whole four weeks. Which changed my discharge date from 10 December to 17 December...But then, due to Petra's chicken pox, the baby and I got quarantined from the rest of the center. I had to stay in my room all day and night, with the nurses coming in every now and then to provide medical checkups on the baby and give me some time to have a sponge bath and eat.

I was essentially on lockdown, and there're just my set of arms to rock the baby when he gets fussy right before bedtime. So I would rock him for 2-3 hours and be completely alone at night when the baby became wide awake and I felt like the only person awake in the world with him. This experience was so not what everyone else told me staying at a postpartum care center was supposed to be like. People who'd experienced it said it's like being an empress for the duration. Well, I felt more like a prisoner. So. I decided to early discharge despite the stated financial penalty. As it turned out, the center personnel had been talking amidst themselves. I mean, all of my meals changed from nice ceramic to disposable containers like I'm a leper! The personnel also came to the conclusion that it's best for me just to leave early since, to quote one nurse who chatted with me as she bathed Jude, "it's so sad that [your] first time doing zuo yue zi is like this."

So it's great that I finally allowed Daniel to argue my case about being discharged early without being fined. Not only was I not fined, but they deducted a week's cost of baby care from the bill and threw in three days of three delivered meals for me starting Monday. Overall, I'm still really impressed by how considerate the center's operation is.

Now I'm less than a day's stay back home, and it's both calming and overwhelming at the same time. My husband is really bad at housekeeping. Nobody's going to get typhus from lack of sanitation, but eventually someone might trip and fall amidst the clutter. Or maybe I'm just hypersensitive because having things neat and minimal help me feel better. A lot better. Which is why, instead of resting when the baby is sleeping, I've been cleaning as much as I can and organizing. I know I need to spend my time and energy wisely so my body will still continue to heal as fast as possible and my milk supply won't be affected, so keeping that in mind.

The amount of gifts from some local moms surprised me. I made a thank you list and hopefully they can know how much I appreciate their thoughtfulness. I'm a bit touched that even though I still feel like I have not much of a "tribe" in Hsinchu, I do have people here who seem to like me. And I might be in fact forging local friendships.

We'll see how tonight/late night goes. When he is awake, Jude looks around my bedroom and I wonder if he registers that we're in a new place now. That we're home.