I can’t understand why people still read this weblog. I mean, it is so full of doom-and-gloom that I don’t believe it would be interesting to anyone. However, there are some diehard readers that have sent me email, letting me know that they’re still reading my entries here. It isn’t my goal, but this entry should be the final nail in the coffin and serve to lose all of them. I appreciate all the words of encouragement that I’ve received, and I think that through reading my weblog entries, some people have come to understand me better than some of family members and closest friends.  However, a lot of things have been brewing up inside of me for a while, and I am set to make the mother of all negative weblog entries now.  Obviously, nobody has the desire to read about a lot of depressing notions. Besides, I am certain that this will turn out to be an extremely lengthy entry and will undoubtedly bore the pants off of anyone attempting to read it.

As I stated, I’ve had a lot of inner angst lately. I use the word “lately” liberally here, for this pervasive sadness has accompanied me for several years. In fact, I can’t remember a time when I was happy for very long. Certainly, there were moments, like when my sons were born, but no long drawn-out periods of great bliss. For the most part, each day has been worse than the day preceding it. I have a lot to be thankful for certainly.  I just tend to lood at the cup as being half empty rather than half full.

Last summer’s happening is a perfect example of this. That is when I found myself without a job. I had been working as a high school teacher for five years at Chih-yung High School in Dajia. The high school is a mere 15-minute drive from my home in Cingshuei. Although the high school is at the lowest-possible academic level (i.e., anyone can enter, irregardless of their high school entrance test scores), I tolerated it, choosing to focus on improving my techno-skills in presenting multimedia lessons to the students with the latest gadgetry. I was fortunate to have a fairly modern listening lab as my classroom, complete with headsets, monitors, and testing consoles for all the students. I strived to use the latest electronic presentation means I could get my hands on to incorporate in my teaching.  As time went on, I learned a lot about the various media I was using and felt at ease using it in my classroom.  I felt very positive about the things I was doing.  It came as a big surprise at the end of last school year, when I was notified that my contract would not be renewed for the next school year.  The shock of that news stressed me out immensely.

Friends and family members tried to convince me that it was a good thing.  I can’t tell you how many times people told me the “one door closes, another door opens” line. However, I couldn’t get past the unfairness of the whole thing. In my mind, I had been a very good teacher there. The school administration had never had a problem with me. On the contrary, I was given high-praise various times during my time there. No reason was provided to me as to why I wasn’t welcome there for a sixth year of teaching. It was just told to me that the Principal (and part-owner of the school) ordered it to be that way. At the time, there was one other foreign teacher there. He did not return the next school year, either. However, it was by choice that he didn’t return, opting instead to return to his homeland of New Zealand. In the next school year, only one foreign teacher worked there. I don’t know how the school felt about him, but suspect he was probably treated equally as bad, too.

The things I had to deal with at Chih-yung were troubling. Much of it led to my belief that there is racism in Taiwan. I could find no other answer to the questions that arose as to why that school mistreated me like that. From the beginning, the administration there treated us as inferior employees, choosing to not involve us in every teacher meeting and social event. We were not monitored in the least. I could have been teaching Portuguese, instead of English, for all they knew. I never once had a review. Despite that, I endeavored to be the best English teacher I could be. I tried everything to reach those under-achieving students that attended Chih-yung. My actions ran the gamut from severe punishments to over-the-top praise in order to get results from the students there. It was all to no avail, though. They had already been burned out to the point of not caring far before I began teaching them. Sadly, the system made them only worse. The best teacher in the world couldn’t have ignited a fire under them.

I asked the school administration how I was doing several times. Despite the fact that they really had no idea, they told me I was doing a great job. There was never much communication beyond that. Our classrooms were as far away from the administration’s office as they could be, at the top of a 6-story building in the corner of the campus. We learned about special happenings from the students. Often times, we learned that our classes had been canceled only when students didn’t show up. Rarely was there ever any advance notice of events. We were given a schedule at the beginning of the semester, but changes were common and updates were not. Still, whenever the school needed a teaching demonstration or a picture for their recruiting paraphernalia, they came to us. During my last year at Chih-yung, I gave a teaching demonstration which was attended by all the English department teachers, save one. The head teacher didn’t attend. Neither did anyone else from management. I was later told that it went very well. It was at that time when I began wondering about my future with the school. Why were they praising me from hearsay, instead of actually experiencing my demonstration for themselves? Little did I know that my concerns were not without warrant.

I guess that Chih-yung High School’s administration was tolerating me just like I was tolerating them. Their tolerance was a bit less than mine, though, as
those who readily gave me praise, before it was decided that my contract would not be renewed, gave me the cold shoulder, after. I don’t know what had been going on behind closed doors, only what I saw – an abrupt change in how I was treated. Those who I thought were supportive of me there treated me as their worst enemy, once the decision came down that I was no longer welcome. Needless to say, it wasn’t a pleasant farewell. I still harbor bitter feelings for how I was treated there.

My wife, Shu Mei, was not supportive during that point. The truth is that she has never been supportive when I really needed it. (I hesitated to use the word “never” but couldn’t think of one instance where sought-after support was received from Shu Mei.) This is a very cold, harsh fact, because I feel confident that I have given her the support she wants during times of turmoil. For example, I encouraged her to have faith in our marriage repeatedly during our first year of marriage. I needed to. Otherwise, we would have been divorced. It was during that first year that Shu Mei asked for a divorce six different times, because I voiced disagreement with her. Four of those six times weren’t even what could be classified arguments, just disagreements. To Shu Mei, a simple disagreement by me was cause for divorce. With Shu Mei, it is either her way or the highway.

Shu Mei possesses an over-abundance of stubbornness and selfishness. As long as I agree with her, everything is fine. The second I utter a word contrary to what she is saying, things get very messy. Typically, Shu Mei will get very upset and shut down. She has gone four or five days without saying a thing to me. When I try to break her silent treatment, with encouraging words, she goes into a very hating tirade, verbally assaulting me with a barrage of put-downs, followed by a demand for a divorce. With Shu Mei, there is no gray area, only black or white. The last time we had a disagreement, she told me that I am an ugly man and she hated everything about me. This kind of mistreatment has been going on for seven years. All the while, I have hoped that she could see that all is not so terrible, but I am finding it increasingly difficult to continue doing that.

Much of the difficulty I continue to face with Shu Mei stems from our background differences. A lot of our background comes from culture, but the brunt of it comes from how we were raised. Shu Mei seems to be continuing in the same manner as her parents did, while I am venturing away from some of the things mine did. Shu Mei was raised in a bizarre family, from my perspective. Her father is the quintessential man’s man. He has the demeanor of a prideful king, choosing to socialize with those on his same economic level and no one else. According to Shu Mei, he only spoke to his wife and two sons, ignoring his two daughters altogether. That condition remains to this day. If my wife calls his house and he answers the phone, he simply hands the phone to his wife and doesn’t speak to Shu Mei. When we attend social functions at his house, it is the same. He literally disavows the existence of his two daughters. Shu Mei says that he shows his acceptance and love for them in other ways. He has given them material things in their life. Shu Mei claims that she has had no problem with that situation. At first, I didn’t believe she could feel that way, but now I’m inclined to think she’s being honest. In fact, she has assimilated that atmosphere into our family, with her taking the role and temperament of her father.

It seems that the only time I write in this weblog is when I’m feeling down.  Such is the case now as I make this holiday entry.  I am not feeling any Christmas cheer, not even in the slightest.  In fact, I cannot remember a worse Christmas than this one.  That isn’t to say that terribly horrible things are happening, because they aren’t.  What it does mean, though, is that this is the first Christmas I’ve had that was downright disheartening.  I could look on the positive side and be thankful for every other Christmas in the past being a thorough joy, but I cannot bring myself to think outside of the here and now.

This must be the holiday blues that so many people feel.  It all just hit me like a rush today, Christmas Eve.  I have been avoiding the fact that I am in a loveless marriage, have a really bad job, have parents who are the opposite of supportive, and live thousands of miles away from my home country with absolutely no friends.  Now, this is all in addition to the most upsetting thing in my life – my estrangement from my first son, Cameron.  That reality weighs upon me daily, but having all the other turmoil come to surface with it just sinks my spirits into an absolute despair.

One would think that my wife would offer some sort of encouragement and/or comfort.  However, “one” would not know my wife, if that were the thinking.  Shu Mei has always marched to the beat of a different drummer, her own drummer with her own beat.  It is difficult enough to try and understand Shu Mei because she is a woman, but what makes it even more of an impossible task is that she comes from a different culture.  I have often thought that Chinese people aren’t just from a different race, but are actually from a different species than those of us raised in the West.  I cannot help but think that their brains must somehow be wired differently.  There seems to be no rhyme or reason why they do some things.

I’d like to explain myself, but I just can’t muster up the energy to do so.  I’m so far in the dumps that it wouldn’t even help me let off some steam, which was the original goal of writing this post.  I just realized that thinking about and writing about these things is actually having a negative effect on my psyche, instead of the sought-after positive effect.  I feel so very alone right now.  Shu Mei took the boys out to eat without me, but that’s not really why I feel alone.  I feel alone because I am honestly just that, alone.  I don’t feel like anyone is in my court right now, nor have they been for a very long time.

I’m going to go lie down now and try to sleep some of this away.  Hopefully, I’ll never wake up.  What I meant by stating that wasn’t that I want to die, but that I just want to cease existing.  It might sound like the same thing, but it really isn’t – in my mind, at least.  I believe in a life-after-death, so wanting to leave this life for another life makes no sense to me.  Problems will invariably follow me wherever I go.  However, if I could just make it so I don’t exist, in either place, I most certainly would.

I believe that Our Heavenly Father is all-powerful.  If He chooses, he could make me so that I don’t exist.  I would pray for that to happen, but I doubt he’d grant it.  I’ve not done anything to merit receiving that special blessing.  In fact, suffering seems to be an integral part of my existence and doesn’t look like it will be going away any time soon.

In the precious few seconds between deep slumber and the awakening consciousness that comes when one emerges from naptime lies a peaceful solitude.  It is at that time when one feels the warm emotions of a world where things are the way they ought to be.  Inevitably, that joyous slice of heaven is erased by stark reality as soon as complete consciousness takes over, a reminder that the world is as imperfect as ever.  Such was the case when I woke up from an afternoon nap this fine Saturday afternoon.

As I emerged from the veil that shrouded my unconscious thoughts during deep sleep, my mind settled momentarily upon a hazy vision where all was well and problems of the past were no more.  I basked in the warm serenity of that mental picture as long as I was allowed to, before complete consciousness took over.  For a fleeting moment, I felt that a truce had been called between all the past conflicting manners in my life.

My thoughts touched upon harmonious situations.  I envisioned speaking with my ex-wife, Tara, about the fact that I’m not such a bad person, as she portrays me to be, and she believed me.  I then reasoned with my current wife, Shu Mei, that yelling and physically punishing our sons is not beneficial to their future progression and she believed me.  After that, I met with my sons.  Cameron and I had a brief encounter in which he really understood that I loved and cared about him, and we both mourned for the time lost in which we had not relationship, but vowed to remain close forever more.  Finally, I spoke with Billy and Tyley together, for they are the closest of brothers, and they understood that everything I say to them comes from love, with my only desire being for them to be happy.

By design, all of those fictitious encounters happened almost instantaneously, for I knew that it would all be over in a flash.  Sure enough, as soon as I had reached an accord with my second and third son, the sound of Shu Mei broke through the haze.  She was yelling at Billy and Tyley to pick up their toys.  She threatened them with a spanking if they didn’t.  I tried to return to the utopia I’d just experienced, but the piercing tones of Chinese cut through the air like a knife.  She Mei was shrieking at the boys in her native tongue, which is something she reserves for the worst of her verbal assaults, as she feels it hides her juvenile behavior when dealing with the boys during times of stress.

Unable to return to the peace I had briefly experienced in a mental world that didn’t exist, I tried to pull it into the world that did.  I got up and left the bedroom and headed to the computer room, where Shu Mei was sitting, surfing the internet.  I tried to enter into a discussion with her about Cameron, petitioning her as to why she thought it was Tara had brainwashed him into believing I was a terrible person all these years.  Ever the one to not let an opportunity for degradation go by without a comment, Shu Mei said, “It must have been something you did.”  I’ve learned to let these kinds of frequent comments go, like water off a duck’s back.  Instead of protesting that supposition, I tried to change the subject to Billy and Tyley, and my feelings as to how they should be handled with positive reinforcement, rather than negative lambasting.

No more had the mention of this left my mouth than Shu Mei got up and left the room, me in mid-sentence.  She knew what the subject matter I was trying to raise would be and she wanted no part of it.  I had tried to discuss this matter with her many times before, and she has stubbornly refused to listen.  I guess that Shu Mei has always had difficulty with being compliant and humble.  Her stubborn and selfish nature is a definite blockage to her progression.  Luckily, she excels in other areas, which balances out those two character flaws to the point where they are often unnoticeable.  Sometimes, like this particular time, there is no denying them, though.

With reality swinging into motion, I went about the rest of my day.  Although I yearned for things to be as they were in those precious moments, common sense told me that they never would be.  It takes a great deal of effort to unravel the misconceptions that permeate through the minds of people one encounters.  Even then, there has to be willingness on the part of those people for any progress to be made.  Therein lies the great stumbling block, one that is certainly a permanent fixture of the real world.