the loss of misunderstanding

Considering I now mostly work at home or Starbucks, aside the few stints of English teaching a month, I get to enjoy all that comes with sitting around at home (working). It's awesome, at least until the businessmen or Jehovah's Witnesses come around. I'm often waiting for something to be delivered, so sometimes I fling the door open, excited for my new box. Until I see the suits. The promotional materials.


No... NOOO.... I think desperately. Where is my box? I don't want to talk to you!

They begin with their standard greeting and then move right to business. When I first arrived in Japan, I never understood them. So I stood there stupidly, saying "I don't understand" over and over until I could shut the door. Now, unfortunately, I can understand more or less the gist of what they are saying. Usually, I won't answer the door if I bother to look through the peephole first, but as I said, I'm often expecting something.

So the other day, this happened again, and I found myself face to face with a man holding out a promotional brochure. He started speaking. I looked at him, ensuring that I had my "I'm so confused" face on. As he babbled, I said "I don't understand Japanese" (in purposely bad Japanese). Sales guy was beside himself, "your Japanese is so good!" (in Japanese).

Crap. That didn't work... but that ALWAYS works...

He went on about some new internet service, after asking if we have internet. I kept playing stupid in Japanese, "I don't know... I don't understand..." To which he seemed to gather his own confirmation, and continued on. I slowly let the door creep closer to the frame, hoping he would get the hint. He kept going.

Finally, after my tenth time saying I didn't understand, with only a few inches of open door now between us, Sales Guy asks:

"When will your husband be home?"

 Me: "I don't understand..."

Sales Guy: "Does he work late?"

Me: "I don't understand..."

Sales Guy: "When does he come home?"

Obviously, my strategy was failing miserably - I couldn't get RID of this guy.

"Uh.... 6?"

Sales Guy nods, "Ok, we'll come back at 6. Thank you so much. Thank you. Sorry to bother you."

And with that I finally shut the door.

Poor David (husband), he got to deal with Sales Guy after coming home that evening. Somehow my fake stupidity didn't work. When did this happen? Is it some kind of rite of passage after two years of living here? Did he somehow know that I understood more than I let on? Oh pushy Sales Guy, were you just desperate enough to fill your quota that you had to pick on some poor-looking, foreign girl who says she doesn't understand over and over?

Need to plan a better strategy for next time.

sick in translation

You'd think that without a full-time job, there's all this time to do everything. Except that there isn't. I have part-time work, on top of that studying Japanese intensely since I decided I might try to shoot for the JLPT N3 this December (yes, lots to study), and then I started a blog in February: Surviving in Japan: (without much Japanese) , for anyone new to Japan or even those living here who might find some unique resources. Oh that's right, you must be thinking, and didn't she say she was working on writing?

What have I gotten myself into.

The work is good, in many ways, perfect for where I'm at and what I'm doing,  and of course, gives us a little extra money. Japanese, well, it's nice to have some extra time to study more intensely. Finally found someone willing to practice speaking with me (in exchange, we'll practice English for her as well), as speaking is what I'm the worst at. I'm basically like an adult two year old who walks around saying the same ten words all the time, just smiling and grinning every time someone else says anything. Seriously, I'm learning this language the natural way, though I'd rather it all catch on more quickly.

What about the blog? I've been tweeting, socializing, networking, designing, programming and doing about everything I can to put myself and the blog out there. I want people to find it. And, hopefully, people will find it useful. So, if any of you know anyone going to Japan, send them the link, and let me know what else is useful to add - I'm beefing it up.

Never before did I understand how much work and time building something like this takes. Can't say I don't enjoy it, because honestly, I love it. It's fun and it incorporates things I love to do - writing, photography and design. A lot of the programming is self-taught, which makes the process take even more time, but I enjoy it nonetheless.

And then there's writing. Oh dear, sweet writing. Writing on this blog, or working on my book. I've discovered Starbucks is the best place to go - my perfect office. Except that Starbucks is a half hour away by train, so whenever I can go, I seem to be most productive. So for now, with all the other stuff, the writing is coming along, albeit rather slowly. Extremely slowly...

No matter. My body mounted a revolt against me last Friday - I have no idea what is wrong now. Sometimes I think I have some alien cells inside of me just mutating as they wish, evilly laughing as they poke around at my intestines, my liver, my bladder, my nose, my lungs, and whatever else they feel like disrupting. This should all seem normal - the extreme-I-can't-move-at-all fatigue, head that feels like it has doubled in weight, and volume, upset stomach, weakness that leaves me shaking just to lift a hand over my head. Yeah, yeah, been there, done that. I may as well dub myself the Queen of Illness and just move along with it.

As this happened over the weekend, and I had a training Monday morning, I frantically e-mailed my supervisor (since it was the weekend) letting him know something had happened and that I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it. Then I call Monday morning where the training was taking place, but no one answers so I leave a message. No one calls back, I wait. Then I decide to call again to make SURE someone had gotten the message and passed it along to my supervisor. The phone rings. A woman answers. "blah blah blah, company, blah blah," is essentially what it sounded like to me since it's Japanese, my head is cloudy and I can't focus at all. I knew she had just said the standard greeting, so I asked if English was ok (in Japanese).

She answers (in Japanese): "Oh yes! It's ok!"

Me (in English): "This is Ashley Thompson, Native Teacher. I have training..."

Lady on Phone (in Japanese): "Ah yes! What is your name? Are you a home teacher?"

Me (in English): "Ashley Thompson. No, not a home teacher, I'm a native teacher."

Lady on Phone (in Japanese): "I see. Where are you from?"


I knew she meant what country, but since this wasn't going the way I had imagined, I just said:

"Shimada."

Lady on Phone (in English): "No, what country."

Finally, she speaks English...

Me: "No, no, I am a native teacher, and I called this morning. I left a message. I am sick. I have training right now. There is training and I am sick."

Lady on Phone (in English): "Oh! Yes, yes! Native Teacher!"

Me (thinking, I want to sleep, why is this conversation so difficult): "Yes, I called this morning. I am sorry to miss the training but I am very sick."

Lady on Phone (English): "Ah yes I understand! I will tell (supervisor). I have your number and will call you with any questions. Take care!"

Me: "Thanks. Bye."

I still don't understand how we managed to have this conversation, but alas. I don't fault her really, she may have been confused about what I meant for all I know, but I didn't have the mental capacity to explain myself in this other language I'm trying to master. It's just my life. My life in Japan.

journey on

Sitting on the shinkansen (bullet train), staring out the window, as Fuji-san comes into view, trees, rivers and buildings blurring by in the foreground. I've witnessed foreigners jump up in excitement enough times, leaning over Japanese folks in the window seats, shoving their cameras against the glass. Strangely enough, Japanese people often do the same, although they are more subtle, and don't crawl into people's laps just to snap a photo - but I'll hear gasps and exclamations as they pull out their camera phones and snap away.


Fuji-san represents Japan, in all its glory. Even I, homegrown in the Pacific Northwest - home to some of the most majestic mountains in the world - feel a sense of awe when I see it. Mt. Rainier always captures me with its booming voice - a beast of a mountain that presides over everything around. Rainier feels wild and untamed, a mountain boasting its splendor. Mt. Baker is friendly - smiling over Whatcom County, shining on those few sunny days - inviting everyone to come out and play. Its presence is familiar, understandable, and trustworthy. The other volcanic mountains of Washington all have their own characteristics and feelings they provoke. Yet none capture the essence that Fuji-san offers, (likewise, Fuji will never be a beastly mountain like Rainier). Its song is subdued, melancholy, and humble, much like the traditional behavior and culture in Japan. The Japanese consider Fuji-san sacred. So I see Fuji, and I feel Japan - its heart. Those feelings sometimes become something I can't distinguish from what I feel - they are fast becoming ingrained in my understanding of Japan and the world.

History. Culture. Post-modernism. Japan was what it was and now is what it is, as it continues to change - holding onto parts of itself in the process, but allowing other parts to adapt, or being forced to simply because of the pace of this world. Japan is often accused of not keeping up, of not changing or adapting relations, or ways of thought. This is evident. Is it not understandable? When we are hit with change, with circumstances that force or require us to change, we often resist, hoping to hang on to the things that we think we are and define our identity. We don't always want to let go.

My time in Japan is fast approaching two years. My Japanese is improving, as it has suddenly taken hold as never before. My eyes and heart are seeing things even more clearly than those first days - taking in situations and events, looking at them through my Western eyes, but putting them through an Eastern view, a Japanese view, and adjusting, learning. I learn to distinguish, what equals culture and what equals humanity. What does it mean to be Japanese, or American. What does it mean to be human.

I never felt called to go overseas when I was young. There was never a pull or draw for me other than travel or perhaps school. Japan wasn't on my radar. Meeting my husband changed all of that, but coming to Japan changed even more. Meeting precious youth, learning their stories, feeling their pain. Realizing that my heart for children is the same no matter where I am, no matter what these darlings look like or act like - I still love them dearly. Seeing loneliness, heartache, and despair on a daily basis. Hopelessness. Helplessness. The feelings of people, of humans, who just want something meaningful -  want to be loved and appreciated. Want to know they can reveal who they are as humans, without fear of shame or rejection. People who feel the same feelings I have felt, even though we've grown up across an ocean, we connect over those very basic emotions and events that make us human.

I'm not Japanese. I didn't grow up in Japan, like my husband. Japan is part of who he is. Yet, my life here, though short, has influenced me in ways that every other place I've ever lived has. Parts of Japanese society have found their way into my psyche, causing me to look at things much more than simply my own Western lens, one in which I've always known. My most significant life events thus far have happened in Japan - becoming engaged and married. I've met wonderful people and made friends who mean as much to me as anyone in the States. Though I'm a foreigner, and though I often live in a bubble - in between the two - I feel that Japan is now part of me. It's part of who I am. If I ever were to leave, that would stay with me forever. I can't erase the changes. I've allowed myself to be open to Japan, allowing it to speak to me, listening to the voices of people - voices that aren't always audible or said, but voices I hear just the same. This is Japan, and this is my home. Just like Seattle, Bellingham and Montana before it. Places that are part of who I am and who I've become.

Sometimes, it's hard. It's hard to let go of the past - of those relationships that were once so dear. But so many fall away. This stage I'm in, I'm adjusting to Japan. My mind knows it's a place we'll be, at least for a little while. So I'm letting go of before. I'm letting go of the ties that bind me so closely to the U.S. - the ties that won't let me move much farther. The connections will always be there, they will always be a part of me and who I am. I know and realize more and more that being American is such a part of me, but I also realize more and more how I don't really belong, truly, to any one nationality. I know I'm American, but I know my identity is found in much more than that. In Japan I'm a foreigner, and that and being American go hand in hand here. So, a bubble - but to me that's a good place to be. I'm neither here nor there, but I'm in the place I need to be, in the moment I need to be in. Hanging on to the past has me tethered.

Not anymore. 

Cutting ropes is the only way to go forward, to live the life I'm meant to live, to change and become who I'm meant to be. Though I'm slowly becoming part of Japan, I also sense myself slowly becoming less a part of the U.S. I'm not who I was when I got on that plane almost two years ago, in fact, I'm surprised to remember her. Even from a year ago, I am different. Marriage has had a hand in that too. So much of who I am and was has been weeded out, changed, and adjusted - but for the better, or just differently. It wasn't surprising; I already knew it would happen.  I knew, as I strapped in and watched the Seattle skyline shrink and disappear, that I had left myself behind.


*all photos taken with my iPhone

the art of summer, pigeon courtship and riding a mama-chari

So, what's happened in the past month? What is happening in the daily Japanese life of me?

Well, Spring warmed up. A lot. As in, straight to mid/upper 70's (mid 20's in Celsius). David (my husband) and I basked in sunshine over Golden Week, at a BBQ, Wisteria Festival, Shimada Central Park, and the various other places we found ourselves. My translucent-looking skin finally met the sun again, and they reminisced as usual, without the redness. And just before Golden Week, I got a part-time job, teaching English and going to English type events (where they want a native speaker). It's a great opportunity, flexible hours and schedule, and a good way to continue interacting with kids and adults, as I had to quit JET a few months ago.

Then, during Golden Week, another part-time job fell into my lap. This one has to do with a website known as expatwomen.com. This also is a fantastic opportunity, and ironic it just appeared. For anyone trying to market themselves, get on Twitter. Do it.

Though the cherry blossoms are now gone, the wisteria were in full bloom during Golden Week, and we managed to experience them on the last day of the Wisteria Festival in Fujieda.

Their appearance is akin to rain, though flowers, just draping themselves over support structures. People can walk underneath them, and how magical it is.

Wisteria soft cream was also served during the festival, which I tried before (it is rather hard to explain the taste of floral ice cream), but as we went again on the last day of the festival, they were already sold out.

After two quick days between Golden Week and the weekend, David and I hopped on the train straight down to the peninsula in Aichi prefecture, next to Shizuoka. We stayed at a hotel on a cliff in Irago, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The view was gorgeous, and the onsen/spa at the hotel was quite new and modern, with giant windows overlooking the best view, including one large outdoor bath that looks like an infinity pool. Our first night, I sat in the outdoor bath, watching the sunset.

When I was planning this trip, my goal was to find a decent, affordable hotel, with private baths and possibly a beach. (Or mountains, but all those hotels were booked already). Usually, I check a map and make sure there are things like food and a convenience store (conbini) near by. However, when I looked at the map, it seemed as if these things were near enough to the hotel, and David and I could just use the rental bicycles to get to such places.

After our buffet breakfast Saturday morning, we went out to get our rental bikes, otherwise known as mama-chari. I've never ridden a mama-chari before, but at least my bike had a 3-speed gear, though we never did figure out how it worked. It also had a bell, as typical, and since my cross bike doesn't have a bell, I happily began dinging it while trying to stay in a straight line on the bulky granny bike that was so much harder to control. David, ended up with a bike with no gears, an older model, and looked somewhat like a man trying to ride a kid's bike, because of the bike's small size. So, he glared, and I dinged the bell repeatedly and laughed, as we went flying down the hill from the hotel (my mind did not yet realize we would have to come back UP this hill).

We went down the main path and continued on a road, surrounded by farms, wind power generators, and more farms. Lynden, Washington instantly came to mind, as I had not yet seen so many farms in one place in Japan. The smell of manure was much more apparent, and we even rode past a cow barn, something I rarely see here. The bike ride continued for another 25-30 minutes, when David mentioned something about having biked five kilometers. We were both quite tired of constantly pedaling on our mama-chari, moving three times slower than accustomed to on our "real" bikes. So before we got anywhere near "town" as I had hoped we'd get to, for food, we stopped at a conbini for some snacks (and though I had a feeling we should buy some food for lunch, pushed it aside thinking we could surely find food elsewhere). Then, back we went, into the wind and stink of manure, ducking the giant flying bugs, toward the beach.

Eventually we made it there, tired, but since there wasn't much around, continued on to the ferry terminal, where there were supposedly restaurants. Only a few, and nothing really good stood out, and I commented that all I wanted was some soba. After infiltrating a fancy hotel, and checking out four other restaurants (all seafood of course), we decided the best idea would be to head back to the hotel. So after biking for a couple hours, on our slow bikes, and without food other than chocolate almonds and iced tea, we pedaled back towards the hotel, stopping and pushing our bikes up hill most of the way. Finally, we reached the hill to the hotel, where I thought about collapsing on the ground and crying in hopes that someone would take pity on me and give me a ride up the blasted thing. Well, David was already far ahead of me so I just followed, slowing with each step, contemplating thoughts of shoving my bike over an edge, or falling down, because then someone would probably stop. Nearing the top, sweating, and lightheaded, anger welled inside me. No, rage. I hate this bike. I hate this hill. Why can't they just have an elevator or escalator for bikes? Do people really do this very often? And, where is David?

He had disappeared, already at the top, waiting for me. I shuffled my way there, barely conscious, and collapsed in tears when we got to our room. Lack of food, you know. So we ate at the cafe in the hotel, for the second time. Fried potatoes made it better.

Our hotel was at the top of this hill:

Then, though I never wanted to come up the hill again, we went to the beach that was closer to the hotel. We played in the sand and waves and had a photoshoot. And, spied on a couple walking along the beach, holding hands. When they thought no one was looking, the guy leaned over and kissed the girl, and I commented about how romantic and strange that is, since Japanese don't usually show PDA, except in some cases where they show too much... David just rolled his eyes.

Oh, the beach, how I wished to spend my entire day there, but could not because of our 50-mile (80 km) bike ride.

Well, it felt like 50 miles.

I also taught David how to take portraits. He caught on pretty quick:

Then, after a quick jaunt to the lighthouse, back to the hotel. Though, David pushed my bike up this time, while I balanced it. So chivalrous.

I should note that, during the time between dinner (at the cafe, again...) and when we got back, I observed the pigeons out our window that had been there most of the day. This compelled me to research pigeon mating rituals, since it is spring after all, and one sat with its behind against the wall for the better part of the day, cooing and growling. Although, the noises escalated when the other bird was gone, seemingly trying to get attention. The other one mostly hopped around the ledge, or flew back every time the one making noise grew more upset. Codependent bird. Throughout this ordeal, I once sneaked a glance at them nuzzling each other with their beaks. David, somehow, napped through most of this. If anyone knows the noises pigeons make when they court, please let me know.


I think this one was trying to decide what to do about his/her growling/cooing friend. Or perhaps rethinking his/her decision to commit to said co-dependent bird.

And that, mostly sums up our weekend. Though I've left out the sickening bus rides to and from the hotel to the train station, or the small children that women bring into the onsen and jump around as if in some water park, splashing you in the face when you're just trying to relax.

So now, it's back to real life, and back to being a working girl again.

effects of divorce on children

Twitter has me hooked. What I thought was simply just meaningless drivel showed me a wealth of information and knowledge that Twitter holds. Topics from writing to photography offer tips, suggestions, advice, and even ways to communicate with those who are already pros in their field. I can also practice Japanese, in short 140 character tweets. Sometimes I will check English for native Japanese speakers, and they will respond by checking my Japanese. Easy, quick, and free.

People can follow subjects by typing "#" in front of a keyword. For example, #japanese or #writing or #photography. As I learn more about Twitter, find new followers and discover new topics of interest, one important topic usually sits in my "following" categories: divorce. Particularly the effects on children.

What I've come to find is that many parents are twittering (or tweeting or twitting) about the possible effects of divorce on their children - often in ways to ease nerves and guilt. Anyone who knows me well knows this is a passionate subject of mine, and so many of the shared tweets are actually ignorant and further exacerbate the problems of divorce pertaining to children.

As for why I bring this up: I am an adult child of divorce. My parents got separated and subsequently divorced when I was twelve. My entire adolescence was ridden with emotional angst, fears and insecurities that I didn't fully realize until I was nineteen. Consequently, I researched divorce and its effects on children. Though there isn't a lot of research out there right now, I probably own every book that has been published on the subject. My major was Social Sciences and thus learned more about families, child and adolescent development, and family crises. My opinions aren't biased from experience; I back up everything I say with credible sources and research. This subject is one that has yet to be completely publicized, and it is my hope that this may help in some way.

The fact of the matter is, divorce is traumatic. For everyone involved. I doubt anyone who has gone through one or is going through one would deny that. The only time divorce may be less traumatic is if it's a high-conflict or abusive situation. Most of the articles I've ever read about divorce are written by parents for parents, and usually take the tone of "your kids will be fine, and here's why," with a list that lacks any real evidence or academic research.

Kids are not fine. Most people may know of the research about how some kids may go on to commit crime or drop out of school, and the social scientist in me would go further with that to say other factors in their life also influence those choices. However, what about the kids who "seem" fine? The kids who are usually happy, have friends, get straight A's, do well at sports or art or music? What about those seemingly well-adjusted kids?

First of all, the age of the child at the time of divorce will have some effect on how they respond to it. So will personality and numerous external factors. Not every child will respond the same way. External factors can increase or decrease the risk of issues.

Second, children lack the brain development to completely understand the situation and subsequently grieve completely. Though they may be sad or act out, their brains are unable to comprehend everything surrounding the divorce, and in that sense, the emotions and feelings surrounding it "go to sleep" in their minds. This is what researcher Judith Wallerstein calls "the sleeper effect." Whatever issues or hurt the child may have towards the divorce won't appear completely until they are older and capable of processing the events. Once they realize and are aware of these issues, the feelings that surface will often feel fresh and new as if the event just happened recently. Some people never realize how their parents' divorce (or any past event) affects them, and go through life carrying the same issues and hurt without ever dealing with it.

Third, divorce is a kind ambiguous loss. The child loses their family structure. Oftentimes this means losing one of the parents. If that parent leaves completely, or is only partially involved or sees their children some of the time, it creates an ambiguity that perpetuates the grieving cycle. If a parent were to die, however, the loss would be perceived as permanent, and the child would be able to properly grieve over time (this doesn't mean it hurts more or less, just that the grieving process can actually happen). Children of divorce always have a feeling of ambiguity because their parent could appear at any time, even if they haven't seen that parent for most of their lives. They aren't truly gone, at least not in a way that they can process and grieve over.

Children of divorce can and do experience many negative effects, depending on their personality, external factors, severity of divorce and the kind of relationship their parents had before, during and after the divorce, as well as their parenting style. For example, perhaps a child seems well-adjusted. They do well at school, they play sports, they have some friends, and they seem like a normal child. This same child may start to exhibit behaviors depending on their situation, especially in adolescence. If the father is uninvolved, or the child feels unloved, they may seek out this kind of male attention in other ways. Perhaps among coaches or teachers, or among their peers (which happens often). They may become physically and sexually involved with their peers at an earlier age due to a lack of love and affection that they are so desperately wanting. Their romantic relationships may be ridden with insecurity and codependent tendencies.

They may be driven toward perfectionism, in relationships and in things they do, to feed their need for positive attention and affirmation. Their ability to take on responsibility at a young age causes them to grow up faster, and put more strain and stress on themselves in what they do. Their inability to have good relationships may drive them to victim cycles, which are perpetuated every time they are (inevitably) hurt by their peers. The cycle continues, as they push themselves to be more and more of a victim in hopes that someone will validate their hurts and help them.

They may become controlling in order to control every situation around them so nothing ends badly. They may become manipulative of people in certain circumstances to get what they want, especially in romantic situations or encounters with the opposite sex. If they are in a romantic relationship, they may either shut themselves away and not open up at all to the other person, or they may become codependent and clingy, essentially driving the other person away in their efforts to keep them from doing so in the first place.

Most children and adolescents are unaware that they are hurting due to their parents' divorce, or even what they may be missing and wanting from their parents. This is due to the "sleeper effect." These cycles then continue into adulthood and affect many, if not all, aspects of their lives. It doesn't mean they aren't still high-achievers, since they appear to be well-adjusted adults. However, they lack the ability to have healthy romantic relationships (and sometimes even just friendships). Their codependent tendencies will effectively ruin many of their relationships. Playing victim will exhaust and chase away many people, furthering their victim cycle.

These are just some examples. Children respond differently, and a parents' divorce will not affect every child in the exact same way. Furthermore, many of these issues and tendencies can surface due to other events or even just specific parenting styles. Some children from non-divorced homes may exhibit many of the same behaviors. Also, some couples have what researchers call an "emotional divorce" - they are still together, perhaps for the kids, but emotionally distant and act as if they aren't married.

I am not saying parents should simply "stay together for the kids." This is ultimately counter-productive. My main encouragement is to do everything possible to work through the issues couples are experiencing, get counseling, do everything they absolutely can to try and help their marriage. Aside this, I would strongly encourage anyone about to get married to heavily consider who they are marrying. Talk about a variety of issues and topics. Try pre-marital counseling. Get to know the person completely before you marry them. I realize that marriage allows you to know a person even more, but I think a lot of the marital problems that exist today either stem from marrying someone who isn't right in the first place, or, more probable, the issues one or both spouses carry from their own past limit their ability to effectively communicate and fully love each other.

However, even after all of that, if a couple still decides to get divorced, or if they already are (and have children), kids may not be ok, but that doesn't mean they can't be. The first step is awareness and acknowledgment of hurt. Adult children of divorce have to first see how events in their past have affected them. Secondly, they must grieve. Sadness, anger, and all of the grieving processes are essentially the same. The only way to move forward is to allow those emotions to surface. Offering forgiveness is essential - because if the adult child of divorce cannot express forgiveness, they will stay stuck in the grieving process.

Seeking out counseling may be helpful for some, as could reading books written by and/or for adult children of divorce. Writing or keeping a journal can be helpful to process thoughts and emotions. Having support in some way is extremely helpful, although not everyone always does (sometimes because they've chased everyone away unintentionally), and being able to process with someone who is willing to listen (not the parents though) can be helpful.

I did a variety of these things and it took me about three years to go through the entire grieving process. Even after, some things still acted as triggers and I had to deal with each specific trigger as it appeared. Even getting engaged and married brought about a variety of triggers and conflicted feelings that are common to adult children of divorce. I'm fortunate to have a great husband who has known me for years and watched me go through the healing process (though we weren't together at that time). He understands how the divorce affected me and is very patient when those triggers surface. It also helps that he comes from a stable home.

In summary, there is always hope. Kids will not be fine after a divorce, but that doesn't mean they can't be.


Resources:

The Unexpected Legacy of Divorce: A 25 Year Landmark Study by Judith Wallerstein

Between Two Worlds: The Inner Lives of Children of Divorce by Elizabeth Marquardt

Generation Ex: Adult Children of Divorce and the Healing of Our Pain by Jen Abbas

Codependent No More: How to Stop Controlling Others and Start Caring for Yourself by Melody Beattie

Ambiguous Loss: Learning to Live with Unresolved Grief by Pauline Boss

Growing Up Divorced: For Adults Who Once Suffered the Trauma of Their Parents' Divorce by Archibald D. Hart

Adult Children of Legal or Emotional Divorce: Healing Your Long Term Hurt by Jim Conway

thai-inspired salmon chowder

Writing. Write, write, write. Study. Study Japanese. The two things I focus on most of the day each day - the two things I need to focus on. So, things like cleaning, organizing, laundry, and gasp, even cooking and gardening get put on hold. Of course I still cook (although not as much as I was during the winter) and try to make sure my new container plants survive, but cleaning has fallen a bit by the wayside. I'm definitely more thankful than ever for a husband who helps out with so much around the house, even though he works all day too.

This makes me feel sorry for Japanese housewives though. Wives with a full-time job are still expected to do the cooking and cleaning for their families. Japanese women are generally surprised that David does so much around the house, whether it's he or I that tells them. Though I like a lot about Japan and the culture, there are some things that don't sit well with me, and the lack of egalitarian marriages is one of them. I'm grateful that I, as a foreigner, am not restricted to such cultural traditions. However, if my spouse was Japanese, chances are that he would expect me to take on the bulk of house maintenance and cooking, even though I'm not Japanese. This isn't always true, but in general, it's how men in Japan are raised, and expectations they are taught.

I'm also grateful that my husband is a good cook, and that he likes (or at least seems to sometimes) chopping up veggies. And willingly cuts up the raw chicken that I don't particularly enjoy touching. Then I often execute the cooking process and ensure the final product is something I'm satisfied with (and usually if I am satisfied with it, David loves it). Sometimes I will do everything and sometimes David does everything, but the majority of the time we both help get dinner finished so we can eat at a reasonable time. Plus, it makes our evening time fun when we do things together.

A couple months ago, when winter was still hugging us tightly and refusing to let go, we decided to make salmon chowder one day. I made it a month or so before that and it turned out well. However, this particular day we were lacking many of the ingredients for regular chowder, such as milk and potatoes. Rather than have David go to the store, I decided to use the coconut milk we had in the cupboard and the sweet potatoes sitting on the table. As I sauteed onions and pulled out ingredients, I let creativity take over. Sweet potatoes and coconut milk, why not go in a Thai direction? I began to add various ingredients that I used for pad thai and curry dishes, mixing, seasoning and tasting as I went. Then it all came together; I knew it was ready, and yummy. Upon the first bite, David almost fell over, claiming he was in food heaven.

I did a quick internet search to see if I could find any similar recipes, but to no avail. Had I really created something unique and new? As one who adores food blogs and cooking recipes from them, I never thought I would come up with something I couldn't find anywhere else. I am happy to cook what others have perfected (while sometimes adapting). Yet, this Thai-inspired salmon chowder came together for me rather nicely, and I had a few chances to improve it before sharing it with you. Oh, and one of the great things about this chowder is that you can make it as spicy as you want it to be, while adjusting seasonings to your particular taste (much like traditional pad thai, with fish sauce, sugar, etc). If you try it, let me know how it turns out!

Thai-inspired Salmon Chowder

Ingredients:

1 tbsp oil (I used peanut oil - I'm sure a neutral oil would work well also)
1 onion, chopped
2-3 cloves garlic, minced (more if small, less if large)
1 large sweet potato (or 2 small/medium ones), chopped into 1 inch or smaller cubes
2 cups chicken stock
1 tsp garam masala
1/2 tsp paprika
2 tsp dried basil
1 tbsp curry powder (I used regular curry powder, but feel free to try red or yellow curry paste, adjusting to your spice preferences)
1 - 1 1/2 tsp fish sauce

1 carrot (I used a fat Japanese carrot, so you may need to use more than one carrot)
1 cup coconut milk
1 1/2 tbsp creamy unsweetened peanut butter (omit sugar if you use sweetened peanut butter)
1 tsp dried or fresh basil
1/2 tbsp curry powder
1/4 - 1/2 tsp dried chopped chilis or chili powder (put in more to add heat)
1 tbsp sugar or maple syrup
1 - 1 1/2 lb salmon fillet, cut into one inch cubes (make sure it's skinless and boneless too)
1 1/2 tbsp lime juice

Heat a pot over medium/low heat and saute onions until translucent. Add garlic and cook until fragrant. Add potatoes and saute briefly, (but don't brown). Mix in chicken stock, garam masala, paprika, basil, curry powder and fish sauce. Cover and let simmer on low heat until potatoes are soft

Mash potatoes (use a potato masher or a fork) (they don't have to be completely mashed, just enough to give the broth a thick consistency). Add carrots and simmer on low heat until fork tender (covered).

Mix in coconut milk, peanut butter, basil, chilis, curry powder until peanut butter dissolves. Taste and adjust to your preference accordingly. Add in salmon and simmer on low (don't boil) 5-7 minutes, until salmon is cooked through. Mix in lime juice. Adjust any last seasonings, garnish with fresh basil if you'd like, and enjoy.

Makes about 4 servings.

untethering

The title of this blog is Untethered, at least for now. When I was trying to make a decision about some kind of unique title, moving away from "Sayonara, Goodbye," untethered was the word that kept coming back to mind. I went through various ideas, scoured the thesaurus, slept on it (for a long time) but nothing else stood out. So I revamped my blog, slapped the title on a picture and called it good. Suddenly now, I'm realizing how prophetic that word is, in a way, according to my life.

These last few months, or maybe five, six months, have been challenging in so many ways. Rewarding and eye-opening in some, but certainly challenging. Though I'm on the mend now and most days I feel, more or less, normal, that significant chunk of time completely isolated me from the world. I find this slightly ironic as we visited Seattle for two weeks in December. That time was mostly good, and seeing so many familiar faces was also good, but at the same time, left me feeling slightly alienated and confused. I walked and talked and interacted with the same demeanor I had over two years ago. At times, I wasn't sure how to act, or I felt confused about the discrepancy in how I thought I used to be with particular people, and how I supposedly am now. I pushed the thoughts aside and simply tried to enjoy the little time we had in the US, but those thoughts and feelings that come with it have slowly magnified themselves over the past few months.

As my illness isolated me physically, the distance from the US, as well as circumstances in Japan, also created emotional isolation. Who did I talk to? David and the internet were my main links to anything outside of our apartment. We tried to go to church every now and then, although when we did we could never stay long enough to socialize with anyone or do much afterward. All the plans and invites from other ALTs in the area were postponed and subsequently forgotten, my RSVP always: "when I'm better..." As such, I felt the world around me had kept moving, while my world held the shutters closed and only allowed me to peer out every now and then to see what was going on, and left me wondering if I could ever get out again.

As of now, I still often feel as if I'm peering out the window. I see the social interactions happen around me (Facebook is like a window to everything social), and feel a pain as to how hopeless it is for me to even try to enter into those groups. I've always been the person that has difficulty in social interactions, particularly groups. I force it out, bending and twisting who I am to conform to some kind of person that I know will be accepted by others. I feel as if I'm shunning myself - condemning myself back behind that window while this alter-ego of mine tries to engage, make connections and friends. When it's all said and done, it wasn't really me at that table, smiling, laughing, talking. It was just the me that works in society - that works in circumstances so as not to make others uncomfortable or create social awkwardness.

Then I see all that is keenly familiar to me in the US. My friends, family, people I know so well and spent significant amounts of time with. Though some of these relationships still run strong, and have stood the test of time and change (and how thankful I am for those relationships!), others have simply dissipated across the world, both literally and figuratively. Some that I've known for most of my life, seem so strange to me now, not in any bad way, but like we hardly know each other. I feel like a completely different person from when I was twenty, fifteen, ten. So much so that these encounters bring with them a sense of confusion. Old traits and habits and demeanor haunt me and escape from within, though they don't show up in my current daily life. I feel foreign - who is this person that is waving my hand and moving my lips?

I want to relate to those I've known so long - those that have been part of significant moments in my life. Some of them still work quite well. They work despite change and developing identity and 4,000 miles of distance. They work despite differences or similarities in religion or beliefs or values. Those people that I met in random moments, and instantly clicked with, have been some of the best kind of friends. Even if a considerable amount of time goes between talking to those kind of people, I still know that I can always consider them a close friend. And yet other relationships, it hurts me to say, seem to have become more and more distant over the years of change and physical distance. They are almost a burden - a forced interaction that just doesn't seem to work. Or those relationships that I considered so close, that aren't in the first two categories I've mentioned, that don't seem to work simply because I am no longer a part of their daily life, and they are no longer a part of mine.

Sometimes thoughts pervade my mind in attempts to convince me that people in the aforementioned relationships simply don't care. Yet, I know everyone cares, in their own way. I know that life has just continued to take its course, and carried people with it. This is normal. Life carried me to Japan. And I'm living in Japan, with my best friend (who also happens to be my husband), and carving out a life here, for whatever is ahead of us on this road. To everyone who has not lived in a foreign country for at least a year, this is probably a difficult concept, although not as difficult if you think of it as moving to a new city, or state, or something like that. Those of you who are and have lived in a foreign country, you already know. You lose the community you left behind. Though, you may still have some of those cherished connections, you inevitably lose some (or a lot) too.

Though I hardly considered the US my main "home" to begin with, since I've felt disconnected plenty of times, it has started to feel less and less like a home base in really any sense. So if anyone asked me why I might want to go back, I would probably say (aside family), for Whole Foods or competent doctors. The US is awesome in a lot of ways, and Seattle and Washington are so dear to my heart and always will be. Japan has become so much more to me though, and my increasing knowledge of the country, language, and its people just fill my heart with so much love, angst and peace that it feels like it's the place to be, for me. Though I'm still in social limbo, and though I've yet to really integrate myself more and more into the community (foreign and Japanese), I realize that in the end, it is still a good place. It is the right place. Sometimes some things are frustrating, or difficult, or annoying, and yes, I certainly don't fit in here simply because I'm a foreigner. Foreigners are like me, and the US, and Western culture, since I am one too. The way I act around those I am more familiar with is how I'm accustomed to acting in those situations. Yet, around Japanese people, there aren't all those preconceptions. Oh, of course there are preconceptions and misunderstandings about foreigners, but oddly enough, in a society based on conformity, I don't feel like I have to be a certain way with those I meet. There is something strangely refreshing about knowing that this person you are talking to just wants to know who you are, and what you are like, as a foreigner. One of those few circumstances where I can exercise the "be who you are" mantra that is preached constantly in Western culture (especially in the States).

So this brings me back to my title. Normally, I love to engage people and make them laugh in what I write. I love to make light of my problems or issues or mishaps in order to make others smile or just give them a small break from the seriousness of life. I love doing this. Yet, I realized today, as I pondered my lack of sense of community, that I'd forgotten about this whole idea of being "untethered." Why allow myself to be tied down to one subject, to one way of acting around other people? Why does it matter? Why do I say I don't care what people think but yet sometimes still act like I do? Why don't I just allow my friendships and relationships to just develop naturally (as I've come to believe they should) instead of forcing relationships with those I just don't necessarily click with? Note: I'm not saying I don't want to meet a variety of people or talk to people, since I love hearing people's stories. I'm just saying I don't think I should feel like I need to be everyone's best friend.

It's a serious topic, I know. Please don't think I'm mentally depressed or on the verge of joining a cult or anything like that. I'm doing about as fine as someone in my situation could be. Not great, but good in the sense that I know I'm growing, and learning something about myself and the people around me, and just about life. So, in that sense, I'm thankful for process.