Mindspace

Guilt

Today i will realize that i will always struggle with the guilt of being a bad mother. That i am struggling against generations of perfectionism and result-orientedness. That historically, we have only affirmed and recognized performance and results instead of beings and wisdom.
Because of that i will be gentle with myself during these times of guilt. i will not listen to the voice that says i am a bad mother. i will trust that has a path of success and reward that has some but not all to do with me. That if i instill character, i can guarentee times and life choices that happen in spaces and times i don't exist. If i instill results, i can only guarentee ( and not even ) only instances where i am present.

Preface

This book came about from my wrestlings as a born and bred Singaporean which makes for a bona fide Tiger Mom of the most potent breed because in a country with 2.5 billion people on _____ sq feet there is really only room for one animal. As a therapist, in my own therapy and people ask me about my dysfunctional family, i tell them it's more like i had a dysfunctional country.
i fled and found psychological asylum in the USA, said f-you to cambridge all my Oxford educated professors and proceeded to acquire like clockwork 2 BAs and 2 MAs before i finally landed in a calling quite by accident and purely again in the only way i get anything done -- in sheer drunken reactivity.
This book is written in the throes of mornings when i wake up with a full blown panic attack about worrying if i am ruining my children because i resigned being a TIger Mom. This verifies the fact that in spite of my yearly declawing and a repeated de-voicing and i am still every inch my country's daughter.
This book is a compilations of meditations that i had choked out of full blown panic attacks wondering for the 100th time what exactly are the navigational spaces i am raising my children.
i know what i don't want, but every inch of my body screams of the principles that chant in my head. Most days i struggle with shame and enormous amounts of guilt.
But i know being a psychotherapist now, what really matters and the consequences of being raised inside that cage.

Al- Anon gems

Al-Anon this morning was priceless.
i have been simmering all week. It started out Wednesday when i watched my husband consume 7 bottles of wine with 6 guests. Just the following Monday i was so proud of myself for not stressing out.
Then there were 2 more parties after and then this weekend in Monterey where i watched 1 bottle and 2 half bottles get consumed.
I know that when he stepped out to let a crab go and i wondered if he had stopped into another restaurant to get a beer, i am officially back to obsessing about my husband's drinking. Time for another meeting.
But this morning, we did the 4th Step -- what better distraction from my qualifier than to do a full blown inventory about myself. i've done so well for the month of November with my busy speaking engagement schedule. So busy i hadn't had any time to monitor my husband's drinking. When my meeting-mates ask me, i proudly declare " i am too busy living my life to notice ".
But now that the frenzy has simmered down and the holiday parties are up, i am back to noticing the empty bottles and the dishwasher full of wine glasses.
I notice myself crabbier, and more impatient. More prone to pushing him away. All in the same breath, grateful and thankful that if this is the most it is -- it is great.
But as i rushed in this morning to sit at a meeting, i know it's exactly what i needed to hear:

• One woman's definition of impatience as the inability to believe that we won't be here forever.
As i was taking my 4th step inventory in the meeting, i realize impatience was at the top of my list. i just apologized on text to my husband for being impatient over the weekend. i am trying to own my "defects of character" and "promptly admit it and make amends".
i am learning to trust that as my daughter systematically reads in fetal position and my son burps out loud proudly and they both have atrocious table manners that somehow this is temporary and they will learn in time.
i am trusting that this hard, lonely stage in our marriage is just momentarily, and the tomorrow or maybe in the next second, things may change.
i realize a part of me is so adverse to change, that i am willing to sit here, set up camp and make this god-awful miserable place home, because it's too much work to entertain being fluid and flexible -- even if it's in a good way.
Yet i've been praying for change forever.

• One woman talked about how her sponsor got her to imagine her ailing mother wrapped in a blanket of her own Higher Power.
The part that struck me was "HER OWN" higher power. The one hysterical thing about 12-step is that you don't have to share God. Everyone has their own Higher Power. They define it their own way, they have different relationships with Him/Her. We don't share.
Which a part of me just loves. Which a part of me feels is Christianity anyway -- we all forge our own relationship with God. But i think we often forget, we think our loved ones have OUR God, relate to God OUR way, should see God OUR way.
So this morning, i wrapped my husband in a blanket of his OWN Higher Power, trusting that God loves Him, is desperately worrying about him the same way i do. Ok i edited the last bit.

•One woman talked about how she was mad at herself for marrying her qualifier.
That one hit a chord. i was just trying to figure out this morning why i always hit this wall of fear and incredulity every time i find out my husband drinks. It would be as obvious as if i found out he was Chinese. But i reel. i lose it. i lose it to panic and fear and shame and betrayal.
And i realize as this lady shared, a part of me still can't forgive myself for marrying this part of him. Or marrying him.
It's god-awful to admit, given i am a classic, text-book co-addict. But listening to this lady share and how she married not one for 4 alcoholics/addicts. It is just heartbreaking.
And i am trying to focus on the fact that his drinking has more to say about me than him. That somehow i would be a person that would end up with someone like that.
As if i wasn't an addict myself, or couldn't be one. As if there is a part of me that blames myself for his drinking.
But this morning, i am struck by how i can imagine a part of my husband realizing this blame i feel towards myself and him. How it must be hurtful. How it must be horrifying.
To not be loved and celebrated unconditionally. The way i feel he loves me, when i am not busy reeling from being abandoned by his silence.

• One other lady shared about how abandoned she feels by her husband who found recovery and now instead leaves the family to go to AA meetings instead of drinking or drugging.
A part of me laughs. An addict is an addict, and when you get sober, you just graduate to more acceptable addictions -- like meetings.
A part of me resonates with him as she insists that he is losing his family while helping the world -- sponsoring other men. i know i feel the same way with my husband's trips to Haiti and dad's mission trips at a time when his grandchildren are growing up right before his eyes.
i am reminded of a scene from a movie when Jim a famous missionary leaves his family to go evangelize the aborigines who eventually killed him. i remembered the tears in his young son's eyes who begged him not to go.
This estrangement, this ambition, this purpose and calling God puts on men's hearts -- it's just heart breaking. Don't tell me it's good.
It's another addiction. i've reconciled myself with the idea that in order for men to feel purposeful in the world, they need the support of women, and then they leave.
We are suppose to find support elsewhere.

But i sat there, eyes closed listening to each share. Thankful for a mindful, cost-free space to reflect and hear myself. And to hear my Higher Power speak to me, and tell me serenity is possible; to say the serenity prayer with a group of other people. To hear others struggle with addicts in their lives with grace and dignity.
i love my Redwood City Homegroup. i feel so loved and seen by them. i am finally staying back and talking to them. i got a number from a friend today. Grateful. Thankful. Loved.

Grateful Mondays

Its a beautiful foggy Monday -- i am loving and relishing my precious day off. It starts the week off right, with the busy weekends we keep. i am getting my routine down and protecting it with my life. i typically, wake up, try not to stress the kids out  ( " Why are you so calm mommy ? Usually, you are all over the place. " My little mirror comments ) because they typically oversleep from the weekend activities. We grab a quick breakfast and i try to start their week calm and prayerful.
I run one errand before my 10am Al anon meeting, stroll casually to my 12.15 Dailey Method workout, lunch and possibly do one more errand before early pickup at 3.10pm.
On Mondays, i wake up and dress down the one day of the week besides Saturday. i wear my perfectly coordinated Lululemon workout clothes and meticulously wear a dress-down, non-made up "Nude look" and mess around in my Ugg clogs.
i relish the fact that my Al-anon group and the mom's group at school get to see me in my workout, stay-at-home mom outfit of the week. Every other day, i am dressed to the nine for work. Never thought i'd appreciate dressing down.
But Mondays i am typically overwhelmed with gratitude, grateful for the give. i am realizing that it is indispensable given now my schedule has me back to back for the next 4 days. Tuesday i am on from 9-5 back to back, with one hour to wolf down lunch.
i am so aware of other times in my life when the day ran into each other and i didn't feel the warm security of and a single finite day of hard earned rest. Of feeling the absence of guilt, and the pre-ache of a hard driving week ahead.
Everything is so much more precious in contrast.
Listening to K-love on a foggy day --- thank you Lord.

Loving my Kindle

So i finally broke down and bought a Kindle.
In the efforts of being more environmentally friendly. In the effort of having all my books "with me at all times". And i am blown away at how much i love it.
It suits me perfectly.
Suits the way my brain works with books, in that i sip them only in small increments. All of my poetry works just perfectly on a Kindle. They are slivers, and exist only in small bites on a page. I love that there is so much room around them, so much page. I love that i can bookmark them and find them immediately to read to my clients. i love that i have this bizarre feeling of having Hafiz, Mary Oliver, Rumi with me at all times.
i realize that there are some books i just want to be near. i want "with me", who's presence calms me. i realize books have been my soothing blanket as a child, during awkward moments at the table or socially anxious moments. i have a book. And now i have 20 books.
Slivers of them, the exact line, page and number all the touch of a screen.
It's lovely and i realize, it's not fiction i want with me. It's the wisdom of Pema Chodron or David Whyte, or David Richo.
i realize that just being in the library at home calms me down, or bookstores.
The kindle is the  closest most portable way to it.

San Damiano with Edwina Gately

Up in San Damiano for a much needed respite off a month of craziness. Up here with Edwina Gately -- poet, artist, activist. i first learnt about her through her work with inner city prostitutes.

Up here with my friend M who is going through a divorce.
Up here grateful, a little off kilter from the mixture of energies -- my friend's M's frenetic warmth which i've always adored, Edwina's British energy which is slightly triggering from my British "Professors-oppressor" days. The beauty of San Damiano always throws me. My body almost responds to it involuntarily. The air just makes it way into my lungs, without having me to do those methodical deep breathing exercises i did with a client just on Thursday.
i am "stuck" up on the hill, neither here nor there.
Knowing that i am too twitchy to be up here and too wired to go back down there.
But i am trying to enjoy a different experience.
-- the ease of a girl room-mate with masks and talks in the dark
-- having Edwina love a poem i wrote and read to the group
-- settling into M introducing me as a psychotherapist
-- noticing how hard it is for me to show up, the more visible she is.
-- my immediate connection to a more cerebral group retreat across the way
-- the beautiful mugs i got to buy for M as a gift
-- my gravitation to art and painting this weekend
-- my need to write on the computer again

Thank you Lord,

i am trying not to pick at your table
To settle into this season of gratitude and
receive wide eyed and open
every morsel as if
you have tenderly prepared for me
Thank you Lord
i am grateful
this season of harvest feels rich and undeserved
i feel thankful in my practice,
for the love and loyalty of my clients
for the joy of being held
so carefully by them
the connection,
they see me as much as i take pains
to see them

Adrenaline High

It's been a stressful month of speaking engagements. In the months of October and November, i delivered:
- an online lecture on Rapid Prototyping for San Jose State University for an old Stanford classmate.
- a lecture on depression in complete Mandarin to a Chinese Church in Cuppertino
- a 3 week seminar on Parenting Teens for Calvary Church of Los Gatos
- a 13 week DivorceCare curriculum for kids for Bethel Church
- www. taniachoi.com launched on the date of the seminar

i can definitely feel the difference these additional responsibilities have on my system.
At first, it was this adrenaline high which a produced a giddiness lasted for 2 whole weeks.
i was keeping the old college hours of 9-12/1am again, incredibly productive in fast, addictive web-designer mode. i saw through the kids. i was counting the hours till the kids went down. Enoch came home to a wife completely glued to the screen like the old design school days.
This energy ran headlong into Halloween which translated into aspiring to make 50 cake pops with the obsessive perfectionism of the RISD days. i mixed up 3 shades of green for the face of the little green witch. i went to 2 stores looking for the perfectly sized candy that was suppose to be her eyes. When it was finally done, in true design school fashion, all of the pops tipped on the way to the car and IN the car, and when it finally reached the destination melted off the sticks. i was insanely stressed, despondent, self-deprecating, humiliated, frustrated and self-flaggelated.  It was both disastrous and drove cortisol levels to such crazy heights i was so disoriented, i got lost driving everywhere.
Now that the last of the seminars are over, i am crashing.i feel like a giant dead weight. i am sleeping at 8pm again and wanting to do nothing after i put the kids down. i drag myself through my charts and notes for my clients. i can barely stay awake before enoch gets home.
It's just amazing how i could have kept this up for 4.5 years going to school.
I could see how i could get hooked on this incredible energy. How productive it is, and how giddy adrenaline makes me feel. i notice myself looking for the next deadline like the next fix, it is all i need to give me my next high. Exactly like i tell my teen pothead who asked me point blank why i don't smoke marijuana  " Girl, if i found something that could reliably transport me from this world to another, i don't trust myself to put it down".
But right off the heels of the high of stress, i feel the crash, the descent, the exhaustion, the dead weight tiredness. i am what they call "strung out", probably the closest i'd get to a hangover.
I am reading an article this week for my consultation group called " The Manic Defense" which basically describes i think my husband's life to a T. But after the week i had, i could see why this lifestyle would be so enticing. It leaves such an impressive paper trail and the most heady sense of accomplishment.
It's thrilling to be wanted, to have such great reviews and to feel the rush of competency through your veins.
As i watch him go through his newest fad now -- Singing karaoke at Med-info conferences -- i could empathize with the feeling of " MORE MORE MORE!"

Revival in the kids

Week 2 of being back in ALCF and i can sense a shift in the kids. It's almost they are having some kind of spiritual awakening. Mostly, it's with Aidan, he seems really interested in the Bible wanting to read it.
So i went out and spent $150 at Christian Book Distributors, Enoch and i's favorite store in college. i bought them both newly inscribed Bibles and a little kids version of "Prayer that Availeth Much" and i thought -- wow what's happening.
i've always raised them with Christian music and Bibles audio books in the car, but now, Aidan is visibly hungry to turn the pages of the Bible. It started out with him insisting on reading the Picture Bible every night and telling the story with the pictures.
The other night, it just warmed my heart to see him read straight out of scripture and the little blurps that mark his Bible as a children's one.
Nally has been feeling afraid of bad dreams at night, so we've been troubleshooting different things that make her "peaceful". Last night, she said she reading scripture calmed her down.
i think of all those mornings my mother prayed with me before we left for school, or instances she always took my fears to God in prayer.
i think it's  coming full circle, even as they listen to me pray out loud while reading Garfield in the morning, their spirit is listening. Their spirit is being fed. And one day when they are 40 they will have similar memories of a praying mother and being prayed for.
Thank you Mommy.

Redirection

Thank you Lord,
i feel your redirection in this family. Slowly, subtly but surely, bringing us home to Abundant Life through the kids, addressing my despair with my teens with a renewed commitment to working in the Teen Ministry. God today, i feel you sowing in my heart a renewed commitment to give during a time when our finances are changing.
It's a new season God, and i am excited. Nothing thrills my heart more than you see your hand at work in my life, to hear your voice so clearly, so surely, so methodically.
It puts everything in perspective, that You God are leading this family. We are not at the mercy of Enoch and i's dysfunction or sin or the things we cannot do.
When Nally said her values that she wanted to pass on to her family -- is a sense of family and that "we are happy", i thought  "wow, are we happy?" Does my child sense the difference these last 2 weeks have made, since i've woken up and started praying for my marriage and family?
Thank you Lord.

Called apart

Thank you Jesus for such a wonderful Sunday,
i felt like you met me before Pastor Paul came on to speak. You met me in worship and i am moved again to return to it more as the language that you have reached me before. That special secret language that had such an access to my heart by passing the trappings of my mind.
But in the lieu of all the talk about creativity and process in writing group last night, i weep because you remind me that it's not why i write.
it's not because i am worthy, or creative, or able. It's not what drives the urgency day after day --- i write because you call me to.
And i obey that call with a passion of a newfound love and the detachment of an errand to be run.
It just seems so liberating to be in that space amidst the brilliant writers last night.
You whisper to me this morning that i am different.
and i blush to realize how that still makes me weep with specialness.
You call me out.
You call me apart.
You call me to You.
i write you for You.