Summer Staycation

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Well, it’s been a slow summer. As you know, it’s hard for me to sit still, so I’ve convinced myself to consider this lull a summer staycation, so to speak. Earlier this year, we spent months from late winter to mid-June working with two landscape designers on a plan for our outdoor project renovation. Then we interviewed a few contractors and finally selected the vendor. Now, we are waiting for the start date and green light. I’m crossing my fingers and hoping that when the contractor reaches back out to me this week, they will get us on the books for an August start and completion. Sounds optimistic, I know.

The funny thing about home projects now… being in real estate, I feel now like I just know too much. Like I’ve seen accidents happen, shit go wrong, heard about delays with city permitting, city planning, etc. Our work doesn’t involve the city since we’re basically just tearing up and replacing the existing hardscaping but still… construction crews are notorious for blowing through budget, scope, and schedule. A friend/past client/former colleague recently used this outfit (for a smaller job), so I’m hoping that will help keep them alert and attentive.

There is also a part of me that is excited to witness the work. Maybe that’s the environmental engineering background cropping up. I have so many questions about the staging of the work, the heavy equipment, grading work, drainage, paver installation… I will try not to hover, but I will definitely be following and checking on progress daily. It’s funny bc when we started planning for this project, we were convinced it would start after Benny passed. Well, whatdya know, homeboy just had his 13th birthday earlier this month and he is looking really good. I mean, a paraplegic no matter how you cut it, but mentally/cognitively alert and still enjoying walks (we use a hind-end harness), car rides, and snacks. We’ve even tapered him off all the supplements and prednisone, and he’s holding strong. I mean, what a blessing that Bubbey is retired and I work mostly from home. We are actually enjoying a lot of time with with our boy. Our friends, who are probably tired of us being such homebodies, keep broaching the “quality of life” topic, which I feel is code for “you should put him down.” But honestly, his quality of life is excellent. It’s ours that is taking a beating but hell, mind over body. I just tell myself caring for him is my way of building my grip strength.

In other news, I’m taking advantage of the down time to revamp my farming materials and get trained up on some new things. I recently got my certification for probate transactions, and I’ll start another one soon on ADUs (accessory dwelling units), which are all the rage now. I’ve also been reaching out to contacts and acquaintance to catch up, and that has been a pleasant surprise.

For fun, I recently discovered a movie app through the library. Somehow the search feature is different than like Netflix/Prime/Hulu. I’m able to search for film festival movies and now I’ve got a robust queue of movies. And I never thought of myself as an art house gal, but turns out, I’m into it!

I’m also starting to get the itch for expanding my circle. I’m starting to explore activity groups and community groups to meet new people, find nonprofits I want to support, etc. In the docket right now is: Junior League which is hosting a new member meet n greet/mahjong party and I want to check out a local game room that’s hosting mahjong night during the week. I’ll report back.

The Devil’s Worm

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It’s been so long since I wrote a blog post, I don’t even know where or how to start anymore. The muscle memory is long gone. But after seeing that my last post was in December of 2025, I realized I had to get SOMEthing down even though now we are already halfway through 2026.

I suppose there’s always something to say about family. Around Chinese New Year (Feb 2026), I was alerted once again by my cousin that my brother lunged at my father at a large family gathering. For me, this has been a broken record playing since I was a young adult. Continued family dysfunction where my father would nag, my brother would lose his shit, and they would go at it verbally and in later years, physically. Then, at the end of the day, my parents would continue to support my brother financially and my brother would live with them (WHY???), and then the cycle of eruption would happen all over again.

I think it was last year that I finally realized, with the help of my mental health nurse practitioner friend P, that my brother has borderline personality disorder. I know there’s the special manual and you can’t really be throwing around mental illness diagnoses without a legit medical background, but Imma go out on a limb here, and just fucking call the play.

Interestingly, P had also suggested that my childhood friend N, with whom I had a complicated and frustrating relationship, was also borderline. Borderline has various characteristics, and in many cases it presents in people who were vulnerable, sensitive children with hypercritical, demanding parents. Long story short, I do feel the way my parents parented contributed to this disorder cropping up in my brother, and now it’s run rampant and undiagnosed for decades. To make matters worse, now we’re in a position where my brother has totally gone conspiracy theorist crazy and he doesn’t believe in western meds at all. Meanwhile, he’ll do all kinds of crazy things to his body under the guise of the practices being “holistic”, e.g. repeated colonics, ingestion of non-tested/non QC’d “supplements”, multi-week water-only fasts (nearing his body to starvation), whitening his teeth by scraping all the enamel off, walking barefoot in public (similar to the “touch grass” movement), and developing strange rashes on his legs, scalp, etc. Yeah, he does all these things in the name of health, and yet, he’s the least healthy-looking person out there. It’s hard for people to imagine this level of crazy, but he’s super messed up and without the aid of western meds to control this mental illness, we’re just left with crazy compounded by crazy and multiplied to the n’th degree.

My friend N passed away almost two years ago, and honestly, the parallels with my brother are uncanny: the addictive behaviors, self-loathing, self-consciousness, low self-esteem, perfectionism, constant overthinking, obsession over what other people say/think about them, replays of the smallest social interactions, plus self-harm, moodiness, inability to hold a stable job, inability to have friends… I could go on and on. What I’ve learned is that the people who need the most help, are the ones the most resistant to anything that will help them. It’s not that they cannot focus or be disciplined… they can and have demonstrated determination and focus elsewhere but when it comes to their health, there is minimal progress.

I know that at the age of almost 50, it’s probably immature to blame your parents for anything. Still, I can’t help but reflect on their style of parenting that led us here. It’s a weird thing to feel like there HAS to be a culprit. What does it serve? Why does it matter? It probably doesn’t. But I still need something to point to, and in this case, it’s my parents and my brother.

Maybe there are other responsible parties but eh, I absolve myself. That’s the thing about ESTJ, Trustee-type people. They are confident in their actions and in their convictions. Hell, I was just a kid. And even as a young adult and now an old adult, I can only see the long history where so many times, I was told to “help” my brother as a way of helping my parents. And none of it worked. None of it did shit, bc they just had me reinforcing their bullshit parenting values. They parented in a way that many immigrants parented. It was all that they knew. They did the best with what they had.

Fortunately, my personality is far different from that of my brother. Does that mean I was somehow spared? I dunno. Maybe. Or maybe it was years of therapy and journaling and a stable family unit with Bubbey that saved me from letting the trauma/borderline disorder take over. Regardless, the generational trauma is ending with me, and I feel like I deserve a fucking award.

After the CNY event, my extended family finally witnessed with their own eyes the level of violence, dysfunction, and abuse. The authorities were notified and my uncle removed my brother from my parents’ home. The collective mentality of Taiwan came full force. But now, 3-4 months later, what progress has been made? In the very least, he’s no longer living with my parents. Hopefully, they are no longer in communication, bc he cannot control his emotions and his rage. He is living at my aunt’s place, which is vacant since she has moved to a retirement community..

Supposedly, he agreed to go to counseling, but he tried two therapists and didn’t think they were helping and then told me he found a new therapist “who could read past lives through the pulse in your wrist.”

Do you see what level of CRAY we are talking about here? That was mid-April right after my dog bit my hand (I was breaking up a fight), I got stitches, then I also got laryngitis and lost my voice. So yeah, when he texted me that line, I totally lost my shit. Since then, no further updates. And honestly, I am done. Done with the bullshit scams that he keeps falling for, done with the emotional manipulation, done with this mental illness robbing my family of any normalcy. I’m done with any trace of him in my life. I’m done being called in to be the fixer of a problem that I was neither responsible for causing nor capable of solving.

Full Cup

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OMG, December is back. Another full year comes to a close and honestly, all the days just keep passing faster and faster. Next thing, I’ll be 65 years old with a head of grays!!

Let’s rewind just a tad: November was a crazy month. H and I were all set to close on our San Mateo townhouse listing, the second deal with a couple referred to me by my good friend T. The sale of their very nice townhome had its challenges. Sure, the owners had poured tons into this stunning end-unit, with thoughtfully-selected, high end elements and design. Unfortunately, the home sat at a busy intersection (4-lane streets) and on top of that major ding for buyers, the fire station was directly in front.

Needless to say, we prepared a strong marketing plan and got hundreds of visitors through the open house. In the end, we even received FIVE offers. The numbers were right on track with what we anticipated through our price research, and that was of course, still below seller’s expectation.

Nonetheless, they wanted to proceed. Long story short, a strong buyer represented by a flat-fee discount agent scored the win. I warned that working with a discount agent would have its complications but the clients wanted their number. So fine… we proceeded with the sloppiest, most frustrating buyer agent team ever… All was actually moving along swimmingly until suddenly, not.

The day after the original expected close of escrow, the sellers went from 0 to 100 on the “fed up” scale in a flash. There were threats of canceling the transaction, threats of legal action, constant insistence that they “need to be made whole” etc. In the end, we closed 5 days later (including the weekend) and Jesus Christ, for the level of escalation, extra calls, messages, negotiations, and work, it was totally moot.

But the good news is we got ‘er done. Too bad a blossoming work relationship ended with a bad taste. That’s the thing with people: they can still surprise you with their irrationality. Sigh.

Oh well, I only lost like five years off my life. SMH. The stress had gotten so high, I was nauseas for days and couldn’t sleep, no appetite, lost weight in a week. I got totally wrecked, not to mention the strain on my relationship with my biz partner. Live and learn, I suppose. I’m glad it’s done, and as J reminds me: none of the verbal accolades/affirmations are needed bc “that’s what the money is for.” I mean, come on, throw me a bone since I busted ass for you!! Whatever. I know deep down, we did a great job on this deal. Whether the client acknowledges, is their thing. For sure, I’ll make some tweaks for next time. Kaizen, baby!

So now we’re into mid-December, and I am actually blogging from Taiwan. Yup, here for my annual pilgrimage to see the parentals. This time I came solo, bc Bubs is taking care of Benny, whose hind legs no longer work. In most other regards, Benny is doing pretty good– deaf but still tracking us, still eating/drinking/pooping regularly. Unfortunately, getting him upright from lying position puts extra stress on this thighs and butt, so there ARE more accidents indoors now, but at least his stool is dry and we’ve managed. Sorry, probably TMI with the biohazards.

Day 1 in Taiwan went pretty well. This trip, I decided to change up my strategy. In the past, I was always very minimalist with my packing. Everything I transported had to fit into my carry-on, so my toiletries/amenities got stripped down to the bare minimum. This time, I opted for the opposite. Screw the carry-on only. I planned to check a bag, and more importantly, I was going to have all the amenities for that killer 13+ hr flight in economy. Yup, in anticipation of entering the Heart of Darkness without my Bubbey buffer, I needed to have my cup totally FULL, like overflowing in order to survive the next 10 days in Nagler’s Cove. Seriously, I gave it a lot of thought. In the past, going bare bones meant I slept like shit on the plane, my skin got dry and itchy, and then I would just arrive exhausted, tired, and super irritable. That served no one. Maybe Operation Full Cup would improve my comfort and resilience?

I’m now at Day 2, and I have to say, I’m feeling pretty good re: jet lag. It’s possibly too early to say, but I am hopeful that I finally cracked the code. If you’re curious, here are the components of my maximalist strategy:

  • Sleepopolis Jet Lag Calculator to establish a rough guide, combining lightbox exposure with sleep schedule shifts a couple days ahead of the flight.
  • large blanket
  • compression socks and slippers
  • J travel pillow
  • eye mask
  • non-skinny pants/jeans
  • moisturizer and water bottle
  • Bose noise-cancelling over-ear headphones (there was a sick/crying baby directly behind me!)

On arrival and after customs/immigration, I also used my travel towel to squeeze in a quick free shower. No one else used this amenity, so it was clean and ready. Special s/o to Bub for the discovery!

To my surprise, I was able to last the entire first day, touching down at 5am Sunday and going to bed after dinner around 7pm. Let’s see how I feel as the trip progresses.

Banner Year for Work

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It’s been another long stretch… As much as I love and miss blogging, it’s been a challenge sitting down to get my thoughts down. The biggest hurdle these days? I’m rusty with my writing. When I used to blog regularly, I would go through my days, jotting down notes and ideas for later blog posts. It’s as if my brain at that time was super nimble: it gathered experiences and held on to details with the intention of revisiting them for a story or processing them very quickly soon after. What can I say, I’m totally out of the flow these days. And well, I’m now a “woman of a certain age,” as my friend P likes to say.

The good news is, I’m having a banner year at work. And don’t get your hopes up or anything. I am still very much the same person. No monster revelations or breakthroughs, i.e. nothing has changed all this time while the blog has been silent regarding my value system: I remain and forever am a workaholic. You probably are NOT surprised. I probably would have wanted some improvements/changes given the years of therapy, all the self-help reading I do, plus just ageing over time. But nope. I continue to define my value and my worth through achievement/work. Work is my purpose and my identity. And now that business is FINALLY strong, I can’t deny the feeling of pride and sense of accomplishment. Indeed, the success fuels my tank like nothing else. It really sparks an old flame inside me. In my glory days, I was the best, and goddamn, I missed that feeling… as far back and as deeply buried as it was.

Tbh, there were two eras that I considered “glory days.” First was high school when I juggled a gazillion extracurricular activities and I was “on track” for achievement and success in life. My second “glory days” era was probably when I worked at the government environmental agency. After a series of shit jobs, this place was paradise. Great compensation, low stress, camaraderie, strong mission, short commute… I was in my heydey “work hard, play hard” mode. I was fit, athletic, relatively stylish, my skin was under control, J and I bought a house, we had our pups, we traveled. Of course, things later changed, and then I was disgruntled, our marriage was on the rocks… Goddamn the shift happened fast.

Anyway, back to present day. Yes, this is a record year for me. That said, we are in Silicon Valley, and I remain a very small potato. Like half of a fingerling. Just a nub of a small potato. Seriously. But if I compare me with only myself (apparently, that’s what I’m supposed to do), I am still pleased. I’ve worked really hard in real estate these past nine years, and it’s nice to feel the confidence that comes with competency, skills development, and quite simply, seasoned time in the saddle.

The other positive shift about this year has been my clientele. All of my deals this year have been either past clients or new biz referred by past clients/good friends. It has definitely been a game changer over my usual client mix, which used to include a lot of randos– people who responded to an online ad or came through an open house. While I’ve handled those deals fine, the level of trust upfront totally creates a different relationship and dynamic. It’s no longer people trusting their friends/colleagues/internet advice over that of me, their agent. When I’m introduced by referral, there is an immediate acknowledgement that I am an expert and that I have experience/guidance that matters.

This dynamic has been instrumental in reducing stress/frustration. Don’t get me wrong: there are still very challenging and stressful days, but the intensity is a step or two lower, thank goodness. And somehow this year, the clients are also more my type and my speed. Like they are my tribe in terms of how they process information, how they communicate, and how they get shit done. OMG, it’s an amazing feeling when there’s a synchronization. I cannot appreciate it enough!

Outside of my work obsession, next is of course Benny. Well, it’s been a lot of ups and downs with Benny. But right now, he is on the upswing and looking good. I still brush him daily (and vacuum daily). I joke to everyone that I spend all my money on Benny and my skin. Yup, he’s our boat and I’m just thrilled to have landed on a relatively simple program now that works for him.

As for my face, I completed a course of Accutane in August 2024 and despite lingering side effects with my vision/dry eyes, it was worth it and I am grateful to finally have clear skin again (Only a few short stints of clear skin in the past THREE DECADES of battling bullshit cystic acne!). For now, all is good. I’m in the process of tweaking my skincare routine with topicals/at home products to target crows feet and crepey eyelids, but I consider the skin stuff a “hobby” that falls under my “internet research” umbrella. Dog care, skin care, house hacks. Shrug.

In other news, Bubbey is continuing with his “semi-retirement” status. His cooking has ratcheted up to a super high caliber. I mean, the breadth of cuisines plus how fast he can whip shit together. It is nothing short of amazing. Many of my friends do not have spouses as skilled in the kitchen, so I try not to brag. But shit, his meals taste way better than eating out.

Skills mastery, I tell you! He like goes to the library and comes back with a stack of books and new recipes to try for the week. My home life feels incredibly indulgent in that sense.

And it’s been a real blessing being able to go for walks together, eat lunch, spend time. Bubs is also continuing with his leather work and laser etcher and 3D printing. Sometimes he creates key chains, placards, bags that I can use for work. I feel like we’re in a good phase where he’s got several hobbies and we’re overall both in a good headspace– able to focus on our individual things but also have the overlap in schedules to do activities together. Yes, everything in the outside world continues to be in turmoil, but I feel very lucky to have a safe and comfortable home with my Bubs and Benny.

Work Update

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This year, work started off slowly. But unlike in years past, many of our clients this year actually came through referral or sphere of influence, which is a whole different ball of wax. First deal of the year was our handyman’s daughter and husband. From the get go, they trusted us (we didn’t have to compete again other agents), and wowee, these clients read my emails, listened to my suggestions, AND followed detailed instructions on getting prepped for the market. And, I have to say, the couple was on the same fricking page with each other. You have no idea what a rarity/luxury that is.

TBH, I was really starting to wonder: how are so many people married to one another AND raising kids together? Bc so many of my past couples could NOT agree on even basic choices like new build vs. old construction, small yard or big yard. I know, I know: there are all sorts of personalities out there and all sorts of relationships. Somehow people are making it work, so I should be less judgy. And maybe it’s just a reminder to myself that I’m very picky about the hard things/challenges I take on. I’ve already mentioned how I have an aversion to inconvenience. It’s not to say, I won’t do difficult things. I just limit exerting extra energy to very few things: work, marriage, and then to a more selective extent: family and friendships. I’m sure it helps too that above all else, I am a doer, so I cannot be in limbo/inaction for any lengthy period of time. Gray areas? Nope. Friendship drama, nope. Tedium of travel, nope. I suppose this does narrow my world rather quickly. Then again, the way I see it, I have to do uncomfortable things all the time for work. Don’t give me added homework on top of that.

So back to my work update. My second client of the year was another referral– a lovely couple, actually even MORE on the same page than the first family! In contract 12 days after we met. It was awesome. And even when there were hiccups in the road, whereas most of my other clients would have grown stressed or anxious or emotional, nada. This couple took EVERYTHING in stride and their case even involved a special circumstance where several 20-30 yr veterans in the biz said it was a new problem they’d never encountered before! Behind the scenes, I lost sleep over it (surprise, surprise), but neither buyer even batted an eye. I was so lucky.

After those two, a few other transactions closed, including one that was THREE years in the making. Yes, it took THREE years bc like I said, the couple was on different pages for EVERYTHING. And we scoured eight different areas in three different counties. In the end, they are happy so all’s good. But I’m glad we got it done. In fact, they just moved into the new house this past weekend. Since then, I had a few other buyers and sellers… closed and done. Whew.

And then, there was that ONE headache of a listing: it had started off incredibly speedy and smooth. We had sold their neighbor’s home for a record high a few months earlier, so the couple reached out. In one week, they signed with us, moved out, AND handed over the keys. Literally, DAY 1 of construction prep (just minor updates), the contractor stepped on plumbing in the attic and triggered the fucking fire sprinklers all over the house. Yup, in a matter of minutes, three levels of a home in great shape, got deluged, er “trashed” as J liked to remind me. Needless to say, from that point on, we were trying to rebuild trust and recover. The two-week delay in the construction schedule landed us at the start of Trump’s tariffs war. Stock market tanked. Market response was quiet, dead even. A month later, the sellers moved back in and took the home off the market. Yup, months of work wasted. Ultimately, they still want to sell, but we’ll see if they decide to come back to market with us. Sigh, that was a huge dud.

So now I’m in summer. I’ve got a couple of buyers who are ready. One is a very picky cash buyer. After four months, I found them a house that ticked nearly all their boxes, but they suddenly got cold feet. I mean, Trump and his world chaos is def fucking things up. Still, these are the times when you can’t be half-hearted. Either shit or get off the pot. They already have regrets for missing out on a home in my neighborhood where they previously insisted the space was too small, only later to decide it actually wasn’t…. Sigh. It’s gonna be a process.

The other buyer family I met through an open house. They are the FIRST buyers to ever respond to my open house follow up email by clicking on a link to schedule an appointment/consultation. Turns out, they are Taiwanese (her family lives ten minutes from my parents in Kaohsiung) and spent some time in Rockville/Bethesda, of course our ol’ childhood stomping grounds. They seem pretty straightforward so far, and yesterday, we saw something they liked. I’m hopeful.

In less exciting news, I finally killed my CRM/Database platform. I had been paying out of pocket for the platform for two plus years, as features slowly dwindled. Finally, I bit the bullet and moved everything to the in-house Compass platform which is free. Meh, it’s a constant fight again chaos trying to keep the database organized. Let’s just hope I don’t switch brokerages anytime soon.

Mechanics of Abuse

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My father recently purchased a new car. Before he took the plunge, he briefly asked for my input, which I thought was surprising. I mean, he’s been a life-long Toyota/Lexus guy, but then again given that his last car (Toyota Altis) was a total lemon, maybe he finally decided to look elsewhere. I went down a short list and said something like, well this one is probably more comfortable and quiet, but this other one is more fun to drive. His reply? “It’s not about fun.”

Welcome to the immigrant struggle bus and the motto of my Family. No wonder J calls us the Monks! God forbid we select something just for the damn fun and indulgence of it. Honestly, these choices are so damn ingrained I didn’t even flinch at his response. And to be honest, I’ve done something similar myself with my car. God forbid, I lease a BMW, bc I love how it drives. There has to be a practical reason, right? The 17 cf of trunk space. Goddamn, the apple does NOT fall far from the tree.

Anyway, we were talking about his new car, and apparently, once my brother got wind of what my father purchased, my aunt (the messenger) got an entire earful about why/how could he purchase that brand. I dunno what the details of his gripe are against the Beamers but yadda, yadda, my brother had an opinion. So then my dad, who is currently estranged from my brother, delves into the whole indirect conversation between him and my brother that’s being done through my aunt!! Not only is it ridiculously gossipy, it’s like, why are you putting her in that uncomfortable middleman position? I mean, granted, the culture there is much more collective, and everyone is nosy and up in your business but geez, for me it’s such a turn off and it’s so inappropriate for fucking adults. Like, if you have something to say, say it directly to the person. Ugh. I started getting agitated and my dad gave his usual BS response: you’re not a parent, so you won’t understand.

I recently saw an Instagram video where a lady my age busted out a bunch of lines her parents used in her childhood with her current 10-year old to see how he would complete the sentence. I found it so telling. Have a look… it just reminded me of just how much parenting has changed. Are the changes usually this dramatic from generation to generation?

Maybe but I was thinking the other day that perhaps one reason I decided NOT to have kids was bc I was so sick of hearing from my parents, “When you become a parent, you will understand…” And I never wanted to understand their perspective bc in so many ways, their technique/approach just NEVER made sense to me.

Anyway, all of this got me wondering: how the fuck did my family get here? To this place where the generational trauma evolved into resentful, rage, anger, violence, and control.

I’ve been reading bits and pieces of this Diddy trial involving Cassie and her abusive relationship with him. It’s terrifying to think that people so intricately put fear and love in the same sentence. And yet, as kids, isn’t that what we did? We were afraid of my father. He had a temper, and he believed in punishment. But somehow fear went hand and hand with love… Should it? Are there circumstances where it’s ok? I definitely don’t subscribe to the current parenting style where your kids are similar to your peers. In my value system, there is definitely a hierarchy between the kids and parents. But I dunno: is there a way to maintain the authority without fear?

And of course, that scenario is different between adults… there was a statement in the trial where Cassie explained that she really loved Diddy. And it just made me so sad to think about so many women out there in these relationships where they are controlled and hurt by the person they love most. I haven’t been feeling very optimistic these days about humans. We really do some of the most hurtful and brutal things. I can’t help but think of the pain that’s between my father and brother. They will take that shit to the grave.

Starting Fresh

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TBH, I am appalled by how many of us continue to put up with relationship drama in adulthood. When I was a kid, social dynamics occupied an inordinate amount of my adolescence, I mean seriously, between being bullied, myself being a bully, evolving friendship circles, jockeying of status, all ON TOP of my family drama between my uncle who blamed my grandmother for leaving him in China during the cultural revolution to my other uncle who put my father’s family in extreme debt to navigating life as a child of anxious, paranoid, demanding, perfectionist parents. It was a lot, and looking back, there was constant anxiety about who was upset and complaining and having a total blowout meltdown.

As an adult, my way of simplifying my life (besides hunkering down on work) was to be more selective about who I let into my inner circle, and, related to that, to “set better boundaries.” Then I heard something recently, esp among modern-day psychologists, where they claimed people were using “setting boundaries” now as a guise for not putting in the work, not developing more sophisticated ways of interacting with others… On one hand, I definitely attribute my scorched earth policy to these past dramas/traumas (with a little t) that I encountered as a kid and perhaps I also developed it as a control mechanism. If I cannot alter other people’s behaviors and actions, my last resort is self-preservation. Maybe that was my rationalization. On the other hand, is there truth to what these psychologists are suggesting?

So a few weeks ago, I came across information online about Canadian physician Gabor Mate and his work around trauma and more recently around adult parent-adult child relationships. I immediately purchased his workshop called “Starting Fresh“, thinking I didn’t want to be guilty of “not putting in the work.” God forbid, anyone ever tell me or even suggest in the slightest that I don’t work hard enough… It’s a serious trigger (i.e. daughter of demanding parents). So fine, purchased the modules and worked through them in about three days, watching probably 10 hours of material. My conclusion is that Dr. Mate takes a very psychoanalytical stance to behavioral issues including addiction science. ALL of it points to childhood trauma. And when parents are in any way lacking in supporting/loving their child, THEIR behavior actually points back to their childhood trauma, what they call generational trauma. It’s all connected.

I suppose part of the answer in a path forward lies in awareness and a keen reminder that when people become parents, they are also going through the process blind. There is an element of doing it for the first time where you just don’t know what you don’t know. Honestly, for that, the real answer is to stop having kids so you let the generational trauma end. That said, I know there are still great parents out there who somehow have figured things out BUT more often than not, geez, what I personally observe is smart peers, colleagues, and friends trying their damnedest and it’s still NOT ENOUGH. The kid still has issues and is broken. And no matter how hard you try with research, studying, experts, counseling, CBT, DBT, whatever… there are just people/factors that you cannot control, and you cannot protect these delicate flower children! The workshop was realistic in that from the beginning, Dr. Mate and his son who co-led the workshop, said it’s called a Fresh Start, and don’t expect a resolution or fresh ending. I think for many participants, having the space to share their feelings and to hear the other side’s perspective was helpful, and actually, there was value in uncovering the histories… so many times, the adult children assumed they knew their parents completely, and they read them accordingly. But, they were inaccurate, bc they didn’t know the whole backstory. For myself, I realized that I have an incredibly strong desire to be right, to be justified in my thoughts and my judgements. I often felt that I knew enough of my parents’ history and that was sufficient for me to judge them and vilify them. My brain so wants to be infallible and omniscient.

The workshop certainly wasn’t a magic pill that resolved everything, but it gave me some new insights about my family. I saw how many times the kids feel that part of the resolution is demanding some kind of apology from the parents. In the end, Dr. Mate says you can’t apologize if the choices/decisions you made were what you honestly deemed best given what you knew at the time. And so there is a shift now towards the future, rather than always looking back. The past explains a lot of things, and maybe knowing more of the past is a form of generating empathy and more understanding to ultimately let it go. Then, we can focus on how to move forward and interact differently with the time that’s remaining.

Stay in Your Goddamn Lane

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My brother left me a 25-min long voice message trying to convince me that he knows the best way to care for our mother who suffers from Alzheimer’s. I didn’t even listen to the message in its entirety, bc he lost me when he touted RFK Jr. as the new head of HHS. This is my reply below. Do you see now why I hate going to see my family? Dysfunction in every fucking direction.

It makes me sad that your mental illness has only caused a lifetime of trauma and pain for you and our entire family.

Rather than focus your efforts on getting help to bring peace, balance, and emotional regulation, you direct all your energies to something that only continues to cause conflict and drama.

Spare me the debate on the health wars. I can think for my own damn self, and unlike you, I don’t get swayed by lifelong CON-MEN even when they have manipulated the system to get into a position of power. And I will never agree that you have any right to influence or direct mom’s care. You have brought enough pain and destruction to this family.

Let it go, bc you will never win this battle. And I’m tired of seeing your repeated abuse and wielding of fear to terrorize and bully the family. If you continue on this path, where you are deluded by grandiose visions of healing and thinking the ends will justify the means, be prepared to be thrown into fucking jail. You may get away with tormenting others who let you into their lives. Those people are weak and unable to set boundaries. I will not tolerate your fanaticism, erratic moods, instability, rage issues, and overall energy suck/emotional vampirism.

I am very clear minded. You are NOT going to impose your bullshit narrative onto me. You create ill health, pain, and destruction to all lives you touch.

Your own health is in absolute shambles, and yet you continue to insist that you have the answer for mom??? Please. Do you think your own miserable, isolated, friendless, unhinged life is a testament to this relentless pursuit towards “health” and longevity? Back the fuck up, or suffer the consequences. You’re not a goddamn martyr.

Worry about your own damn self, and stop robbing others of their sovereignty and agency. How dare you.

The Drama Lives On

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When I was in Taiwan last November, my brother had come down from Taipei to stay with my parents. Actually, he’s been spending more time in the southern part of the island for a while now since he’s no longer employed and bc the weather down south is warmer. The general family “belief” let’s call it, is that it’s good for him to spend more time with my mother.

Mind you, my mother at this point can not stand. She cannot have a conversation. Her Alzheimer’s has absolutely progressed to the point that she requires every bit of care from our full-time, live-in caretaker. So I don’t really see why my brother’s presence is needed or beneficial, but as the saying goes, “I’m not a parent, so I will never understand.”

So basically, my brother forces himself onto the household, and then he behaves like a militant drill sergeant barking orders to my dad and the caretaker with very specific instructions on my mother’s care. In case you’ve been living under a rock, my brother does not believe in Western meds. In fact, he is convinced it’s all a conspiracy theory for the financial benefit of the pharmaceuticals. Ironically, he believes the companies selling deer placenta, Himalayan mud (there’s a special name for it that currently escapes me), and similar random supplements are doing all this out of the pure goodness of their hearts…

From my trip, I knew nothing had changed in all these years. You know, I’ve been mostly estranged from my brother, and my father and I don’t talk much about him. But from my brief stay in November, it was clear Dad and J were continuing to butt heads. And I would hear bits and pieces from my relatives that J did this and J did that and there was an explosive fight here and there. In the 10 days I was on site, there were at LEAST two explosions. In addition, my brother had also lost his shit with the caretaker (who is younger than us) and made her cry. He is a goddamn maniac, and honestly, it’s a blessing that I decided to cut him out of my life decades ago. Bc I am not up for this level of daily drama with a capital D. If my parents are up for it, so be it. I am NOT.

The point is, I witnessed that NOTHING had changed. My relatives were still hanging on to every tiny glimmer thinking my brother would one day wake up, see the error of his ways, and decide to be a “good human.” So a few days ago, while I had out of town visitors, I saw an email from my brother to my dad’s account (which Dad has me screen for legal/financial stuff). It was entitled “Diary.” And it was pages of bullshit… blaming my mother’s condition on my dad, blaming everything on my dad. Saying my brother knows how to cure her, and my father is thwarting him from REVERSING her condition and extending her life. I mean, my parents have led miserable, unhappy lives for as long as I have known them. At minimum, they have been miserable for the last 15 years. Part of it is their own insistence on perfectionism and reputation/prestige and the other is this lifelong disappointment in J, in me, in just life as a whole. Anyway, the irony is that they live like monks (no carbs, no oils, no sugars, no fun) for the purpose of longevity, but what’s the point of living forever when you’re miserable?!?! I don’t get it, but what do I know: I’m just a stupid Americanized cat lady. So back to the email: it’s just littered with all this rage and then he talks about killing my father. There is one tiny paragraph where he suggests that maybe he is projecting his own disappointments and insecurities but main theme? Everything is dad’s fault, and he wants to kill him.

Naturally, I receive this email and call Taiwan. My dad answers and tells me that in the middle of the night, he and J got into a huge fight and my brother pushed him (my dad is 80; brother is 50), and threatened to kill him. He thought about calling me but didn’t. Ok, great, thanks for the consideration. What. the. fuck. So by the time I see this email, it’s late morning. Brother is now in his room. Brother has been coming and going as he pleases, bc clearly my parents don’t know anything about boundaries. I text my brother a piece of my mind and no reply. I call twice. No pickup. He is a mother-fucking asshole, and now I’m super pissed about this bullshit drama predicament we are in. My dad tells me he doesn’t know what to do, maybe he will move to a new place and not tell my brother. Hello, CLASSIC SIGNS OF ABUSE. I tell him he needs to get my brother out of the goddamn house. I mean, they already bought my brother a condo, why does he need to stay with them? My aunt also has a vacant house where he sometimes stays. There are so many places he can stay, why do you let him come to your house?? The same bullshit over and over. I can’t bar him from seeing his mother. YES, YOU CAN. Especially if he doesn’t stay in his fucking lane and shut up about commandeering her treatment plan. WTF. I’m from a family of retards.

Long story short, I (who cannot read Chinese) find a website about senior abuse with some information and forward it to my dad. I call my aunt and tell her to pick up my brother and take him away. I unload all this shit to my visiting friend who happens to be a mental health nurse practitioner. She’s been hearing about my family bullshit for a few years. She suspects my brother has borderline personality disorder, and based on the escalation, he’s potentially dangerous. So, as I’ve suggested to my father before, get him out, get your keys back, and/or change the goddamn locks! I mean, for a person that believes so much in self-determination and action, he moves so fucking slowly on this shit. It all should have happened years ago but no, every time there’s a fight, they go back to their bedrooms, cool off, then there’s another rage event a day or two later. REPEAT. So this time, brother got removed. Supposedly, he gave dad his elevator fob. My dad had the locks changed. Brother is now staying at my aunt’s house 50 minutes away. I tell my father he needs to tell the doorman not to let my brother in, and I suggest he speak to the police about what happens should there be another incident. He refuses to do either.

In my mind, my brother can just go to the park where the caretaker takes mom twice a day. Then, he can start bullying her again about mom’s care/medications, and she is already afraid of him. And potentially, he can follow her and mom back to the house. What’s the plan then? My dad responds that J wouldn’t do that. Ok, well did you expect him to push you and threaten to kill you???? I told him to know the police phone number. He replies that he’ll do that when he needs to. I mean, you don’t know how to get ANY information!!! I am the one who found the service online. You are paralyzed and NOT resourceful. Do you even know how to get the number for the police? You need to have it ready on your phone. He gets all annoyed, saying J won’t do that and he doesn’t need that info right now. Ok, what the fuck ever. When you get pushed again and injured at the hands of my brother, don’t call me. He always says he doesn’t want to bother me. Um, well since you decided to live halfway around the world to save on expenses/taxes but continue living a life of misery and have me handling all your administrative/financial shit, you have already bothered and inconvenienced me. Just so you know. I tell him that things are escalating, and if J doesn’t get help/meds, he might have to be institutionalized. Then, dad says they can’t just lock someone up. Um, do you fucking know the process in Taiwan? No. He insists there has to be a history and evidence. Ok, well all of the sudden, you know the system. The proof is, he pushed you and threatened to kill you to your face. Then he emailed the same thing. And the caretaker is a witness. Fuck all this bullshit. I’m out.