Category Archives: Properties of Life

Watching You Leave, the Thoughts of a Mother

Translated…

On Sunday evening, my daughter with her huge backpack, is headed to her grandparents’ house, I’d sent her off by the door, and, nagged on how she’d not put her shoes on right, she’d mumbled back, “I’ll put it on properly in the elevator!”, I’d insisted that she was to, put her shoes on properly before she leaves, she’d, bent down, redid her laces with that unwillingness, and, I’d had, a few extra seconds, to stare at her.

Since a decade ago, my spouse’s name was stricken off my national identification card, I’d lost the days of accompanying her by the day, and only on the weekends, did we get time together to share. Every Friday evening, I’d, rushed off work, road across the city, to a kindergarten, to pick her up and, my daughter curled underneath the lamplight of the kindergarten, with her accompanying bunny, and, her eyes and smiles, turned into the stars in the skies the moment she saw me. Several years passed by, it’s now, that young woman who’d taken the MRT, the bus, to my place.

As the elevator headed downstairs slowly, I’d calculated the timing just right, went to the lanai to look, the red-topped bus slowly came close, and stopped, right underneath the bus stop; my daughter was sitting in it, her huge white backpack on her legs, with her eyes, staring up ahead, lips slightly curled upward. The autumn sun was eye catching, and, being able to travel on her own makes her excited.

Very long ago, I too, watched the bus as it sped off into the distance, imagined my own sunny and bright futures too, filled with a ton of dreams, embracing the impossibilities of life. back then, I’d never imagined, that in an unknown corner, there it was, my mother, with her tears, staring at the direction I left in.

And now, I’d become, an adolescent’s mother too, and, the once-a-week that we’d met, was what was left for me to take with in this richness of her youthfulness, but, became an aging life’s extravagance. The social media, the pop music, the trending novels, there is, no boundaries, in the world of a teenage girl, and all I could do, was smile by her side and accompany her, but I’d still, cherished the time we spent together.

not my photo…

I know, that one day, she will eventually own her own universe, write her own stories, and that I can’t, keep her all to myself. That mother was only a caretaker when she was younger, but not the one who’d owned her for this life, when she has the ability, to spread her wings and fly, or resting, on that tree on her own, she wouldn’t allow me to groom her, to smooth her feathers anymore, just as back then I’d left my own home too, although I’d bumped and fell, I’d never turned back toward my mother, and ask her to give me a hand.

And still, not butting into her life doesn’t mean that she’s not occupying my mind. After I’d lived alone for a bit, I read the words my mother wrote, “You will always be my child.”, no matter how bad life got, how awful living is, the mother will always recognize her own young; no matter how far you fly, the mother’s gazes will always be like that string connecting to the kite, glued, to the child’s body, hung there, not pulling the child down, close knit, but never broken off.

Right now, the bus my daughter rode is probably at the MRT station now. She’d, scanned her pass, and standing inside the trains, her feet, tapping to the music, reading through her book, an hour later, she will, arrive at her destination, happy, and safe and sound.

The thoughts of a mother, she’d watched her child come and go, from her place back to her husband’s home, and, she knew, that she needed to, let her daughter go, and the child is growing into a beautiful woman, and, she felt sad, because of how her daughter will eventually, spread her wings and fly, but that’s a part of what parents must face, because children WILL grow up, whether or NOT we want them to!!!

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Filed under Letting Go, Life, Parenting/Parenthood, Perspectives, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Values

An Elementary School Girl Used Her Scholarship Prize Money to Help Support Her Household, Two Elderly Men: Let Me Help Her Too

Kindness from all around, from the Newspapers, translated…

“Do let me help her!”, the special report from the papers this March about how the elementary school age girl, Wei-Han Wang lived with the low-income assistance money from the government that supported her family of four, consisting of her grandparents, and an older brother, how although life was hard, she’d not gotten beaten by it. As the newspaper printed her story, “Grandpa Yeh” came to the school himself, and told the officials he’d wanted to sponsor Wei-Han Wang by the month, and “Grandpa Chen” sent a letter, with cash enclosed, it’d warmed up Wei-Han Wang and her grandmother’s heart.

The news report pointed out, that Wei-Han Wang was only in the fourth grade, and yet, she’d accumulated a whole STACK of awards, from when she was in the first grade, she’d received $2,000N.T. for scholarship for excellent academic performances, which she’d turned into her grandmother, to help the household, and she’d earned scholarship money from a foundation too.

A week after her story was told after March 10th, an eighty-year-old elderly C.E.O., Yeh went to the elementary school to visit, after he’d met the principal, Chen, he’d shown her a newspaper clipping from his wallet, told her, “I want to help her out!”

Grandpa Yeh said, he grew up poor, that he’d started his business from nothing too, that now he has the abilities, and he was very moved by the young girl, Wang’s story, wanted to give her a better life, and so, he’d made the trip to Bitou, and expressed how he’d wanted to help Wei-Han Wang out each and every month.

The principal, Chen was moved, told him, that Wei-Han’s grandmother believed that there are those less fortunate than she, and turned Grandpa Yeh’s offer down, but Grandpa Yeh helped install the wind-resistant windows, he’d also bought the cleaning equipment for the outside walls of the school to help the school, so the kids won’t have to sit through the cold winters in class.

鼻頭國小女童王薇涵。 記者張芮瑜/攝影、翻攝a photo of the young girl in school, courtesy of the UDNpapers.

Several months later, on August 23, the elementary school received a registered mail signed by “Grandpa Chen”, with the newspaper clipping, and $6,000N.T. cash; Grandpa Chen who teaches as a professor at Poli-Sci University said, that he thumbed across the story about Wei-Han in the newspaper, he was very moved by the hardworking mannerism of the young girl, he’d clipped the news off, and placed it in the first page of his notebook, and would read it once every single day.

Awhile ago, he’d passed by the local office of the Department of Education, he’d asked the secretary there for the address of Wei-Han Wang’s school, wanted to send her something, also, to fulfill the wish he’d carried, for so long already.

As the Wangs received Grandpa Chen’s money for help, they were very moved, and, Wei-Han told the press happily, that after she’s older, she too, will help others in need as well.

鼻頭國小女童王薇涵生活困頓,卻不向命運低頭的事蹟,陳爺爺看到報導後,很欽佩寄上現...the letter written to the young girl by the elderly man who’d donated to help her and her family out, from UDN.com…

So, this, is how the cycle of kindness gets passed down, because someone saw something that moves him on the news, and, decided to help the person in need, and, the person in need who received the help, was touched, and she’d made a wish too, to help someone else in need when she’s able to, and so, the cycle of kindness is also, rolling here………

 

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Filed under Awareness, Cause & Effect, Childhood, Connections, Lending a Helping Hand, Life, News Stories, Observations, Properties of Life

I’m Not a Porcelain Doll, the Reflections in the Doll Corner

This morning, the Porcelain climbed off that high shelf that her owner kept her on display, toward the floor, and, she stood there, in front of the mirror (b/c it’s a girl’s room, and ALL girls want to get dolled up, don’t they???), and, she’d looked at her self in the mirror, left, and right, like how a scientist is examining something s/he’d just, discovered…

I’m not a porcelain doll, Porcelain mumbled to herself, although I looked delicate, fragile, easily shattered, but, I have, a heart of a Raggedly Ann, you can SHAKE, toss me, and let me DROP to the floor, I still won’t BREAK!

not my photo…

I’m not a porcelain doll, the Porcelain decided, that she will NOT be fragile like she’d always been, she’d wanted her owner (a little girl???), to pick her up, and play with her without worrying about shattering her, and so, Porcelain started changing, metamorphosing, and, the little girl who’d owned her, hadn’t seen her, she’d, forgotten about the existence of this particular Porcelain she loved so much.

not my photo…

I’m not a porcelain doll, I won’t break if you shake me too hard, and, even if you tossed me high up in the air, and I come down, landing on my head, I still won’t CRACK wide open!

But, although Porcelain had, made up HER mind on not to break anymore, she still can’t change her physical self, and, surely enough, she’d, shattered, for the last and final time, and, we are all gathered here today, to MOURN the loss, of our dear friend, Porcelain, she was, a very good doll, she just can’t get satisfied, being WHAT and WHO she is, that, is why, she had “died”………

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Filed under Attitude, Expectations, Fate, Lessons, Life, Observations, Perspectives, Properties of Life, Reality Clashes with Dreams, Story-Telling, The Doll Corner

A Senior Rookie

Switching tracks later on in life, translated…

I’d switched tracks at almost forty years of age, the former decade I’d spent, working in the business realm, and the latter decade, to now, I’m working in the realms of education.  And, I’d become, rookies in the workforce twice in my life.

The very first time I was a rookie, it was when I’d just, started out working, I was, a blank piece of paper, and, the goal of my work from day to day, is to fill up this blank piece of paper that I once was with a wide variety of colors, hoped to gain the approvals of others.  Back then, all us rookies all wondered, how “do we enrich ourselves”?

not my drawing…

The second time I’d become a rookie, I’d gone from working in business, to teaching, and, although I was a rookie in the field of education, but because of getting olrder, plus the decades’ worth of work experience, this time, this rookie’s focus is no longer on the “self”, but how to benefit someone else.  I’d taught the subject of English in school, but, I’d known, that before I’m able to teach the lessons in English, I must find a way to connect with my students, and so, other than teaching the lessons in class, I’d worked really hard, to manage my classes as well, after I’d gained the trust of my students, the classes flowed even more freely.

These two experiences of being a rookie gave me different understandings of life, it’d also, enriched my working experience as well.

not my picture still…

So, this, is on switching tracks, this person wnet from working in business, to teaching in a classroom, and it’s such a huge difference, and, he must’ve needed to, adjust himself, based off of the people he’d encountered in business, and in school, teaching a classroom of students, but, it’s, these sorts of varied experiences in life that makes life more interesting.

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Filed under "Professional" Opinions, Changing Tracks, In the Workplace, Life, Miscelaneous, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life

Hobbies, the Haiku of Light

Translated…

How I Loved

Collecting Everybody’s Laughter

So I Can Open it Back Up

On My Funeral

So, this, is how you want everybody to remember you after you’re gone, you don’t want others to mourn for you, instead, you wanted them, to remember the happier times you had shared with them, that, is a great way to leave a legacy behind.

and no, still NOT my photograph…

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Filed under Coping Mechanisms, Expectations, Life, Loss, On Death & Dying, Philosophies of Life, Properties of Life, Values

Getting Out from Postpartum Depression

Translated…

Upon hearing recently, that a woman committed suicide due to postpartum depression, after work, my husband inquired, if I’d felt okay lately?  If something’s up, I needed to let him know.

Compared to three years ago when my firstborn got here, my husband had metamorphosed from that self-centered big boy, into a man who puts his family first.  That year, my first child came, my husband’s “living life his way” made me feel so very helpless and alone, the “active participations” from my in-laws made me feel even MORE pressures; plus the economical burdens, I’d washed my face with my tears every single day.

Even after my month long recuperation is up, the anxieties, the self-mutilations, even the thought of taking my child with me to suicide, still circled around my mind again and again.  I’d told my husband of it, and, he’d blamed me for being too anal.  What’s most impressive was, when I’d told him I’d wanted to get professional medical help, he’d replied, “You should go to Africa instead, fighting to survive there every single day, that’ll keep your mind away from feeling depressed!”

Whether or not it was a joke, I’d still can’t believe, that someone who’d educated as he, a dentist, graduated from a public university, can say something so awful.  And, if my husband, who had medical trainings behaved as such, then, what trials must the other women who are also dealing with postpartum depression be faced with, would they be able to, receive the understandings of their separate families?

Thankfully, I have a supportive group of church friends, they’d helped take care of my child, took me to the free counseling sessions offered by the church; the counselor, after knowing my situation, encouraged me to see a professional.  In the seeing of the psychiatrist, I’d found, that other than the medications, the national health insurances also covered the talk therapy sessions as well.

Through the talking therapy session, I’d slowly felt better, learned to introspect and gotten some techniques to help me get along better with my husband.  From the three to four times fight a day, to one fight every three to four months, and now, we have two babies, and are expecting a third.  My friends joked about how intimate I must be getting with my husband, driving us to have so many children.  Yeah, certainly, compared to the postpartum depression experiences, we are now, interacting, so much better.  Postpartum depression may be a crisis of a marriage, but it can also be a chance, to better your interactions with your partners too.

And so, this woman worked, very hard, to get herself OUT of her own postpartum troubles, and, postpartum depression is still NOT a myth, you LOSERS, it’s real, and so, the next time your separate ladies start showing signs after they gave birth to YOUR young, DO show us some kindness!

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Filed under Awareness, Bad Behaviors, Being Alone, Family Matters, Healing Process, Life, Loneliness/Solitude, Obstacles in a Relationship, Postpartum Depression/Postpartum Psychosis & Other Problems from After Birth, Properties of Life

Brought Up that Way

“You can’t blame him”, she’d told, all her friends, as they all showed their condolences toward how she got that shiner on her eye, along with those bruised cheeks, again!

Brought up that way, that, was the sorry excuse that she’d used, to rationalize why he would take the downs of his life out on her!  Brought up that way, excusing his bad behaviors, how long, can you keep on, lying to yourself?  I know how much you wanted to believe in his FALSE promises of how he’ll change, how he will NEVER lay a hand on you, but, by NOT taking actions against HIS abuse, you’re only, getting yourself deeper…

Brought up that way, you’d been, using that, to EXCUSE his bad behaviors, and how many times had he hit you?  Gosh, I dunno, let me C-O-U-N-T………Brought up that way, yeah, so, let’s, examine the situations, shall we?  So, based off of that way of logic, shouldn’t ALL men who were raised under abuse, BE abusive?  But, NOT all MEN raised by abuse are abusive to their spouses (although the occurrences of abuse is higher, than the occurrences of not!).

Brought up that way?  So, I can BEAT the SHIT out of someone, when I feel awful about me, if I saw my father, beating on my mother every single night of my childhood?  Or, can I say those “accidental” hurtful words to you, because I heard daddy, yelling those mean things to mommy, and, they actually thought, that I was, already, asleep, as their arguments occurred, LATE in the nights?

Stop making excuses already, brought up that way?  Yeah, I too, WAS raised up by VERBAL, EMOTIONAL/PSYCHOLOGICAL abuses, as well as SEXUAL molestations, and for that, I’d taken it all out, on my D-O-L-L-S, ‘cuz they can’t fight BACK, so, don’t tell me I don’t know SHIT ‘bout scapegoating here!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under Abuse, Awareness, Being Exposed, Cost of Living, Early Exposures, Excuses, Family Dynamics, Lives Lost, Loss, Properties of Life, Vicious Cycle, Wake Up Calls