Peace between mother and daughter in Peace Corps

I’ve never been afraid of death; esoterically, I believe death is a prolonged journey and it’s peaceful continuum of the soul progressing and hopefully evolving to an advance space and time. As a Buddhist, death is not to be feared. If my life would end this moment…I would be eternally grateful for the blessed life I’ve lead thanks to my karma. I’ve never truly struggled for anything in life and had things or situations given or presented to me without much obstacle. Of course, I had to “work” at getting what I desired but I consistently prevail without much trouble. I do things that are potentially challenging but within my capabilities and interest.

The most complex and difficult episode in my life is being a divorced single mother raising a very young daughter without a partner for support and counsel in our fast paced world. To be able to share the trials of raising a child with a partner lessens the physical, mental and especially, emotional challenges. For nearly a decade and a half, I’ve carried the guilt of not being a “better mother” for my daughter. I could have done better. Indirectly and directly, I was lead to believe this. How do you define a better mother? Like which is a better cuisine? French or Japanese? Who is the better designer? Valentino or Vivienne Westwood? Who is the better singer? Streisand or Blondie? Ginger or Mary Ann? Each has its own value and style. To me, a parent is a figure who offers protection, security, and unconditional love to the child while teaching important life skills and empowering them. I’ve never been considered “conventional” only because next to my own family, there is a stark contrast. Conceivably, I may have taught my daughter an inadvertent lesson that is valuable and priceless…but only when she’s more mature would she be able to see and understand what I’ve been trying to show her all these years. Likewise, she also learns from my shortcoming and deficiencies.

I believe the most helpful way I can be both parent is to demonstrate by action and to reveal in thoughts and words my pragmatic yet motivating views on life and the value and sine qua non of joie de vivre as her inexperienced young life have not blossomed yet to fully tasted life’s ambrosia to its fullest aroma. I’ve always encouraged not to fear “living”. I want my daughter to design her life and bust out of her self imposed bubble to actualize her own happiness and not live someone else’s dream or expectation. As a mother, to liberate and empower my daughter is my modus operandi to the max. I have no right to judge, condemn, and shove my dogma down her throat. My mother rammed her persuasions down mine and I turned out to be incompatible with her expectations. Perchance, I may be a disappointment to her, but hell…as long as I’m content with myself, so should she! I only want my daughter to live a healthy, worthwhile, and enjoyable life…that is all I can hope for. A mother’s love for her child is purely unconditional. In a heartbeat, I would stand in front of her to take a bullet. I believe once I spewed that human from my loin, automatically it’s understood that I would renounce my life if it meant saving hers. The bold print on the contract of becoming a parent is parental sacrifice and hoping ultimate happiness for the child.  

I suppose I can understand that as a kid, you see your single mother as a mommy and nothing else. She’s not a friend, a lover, an unique woman and an individual. She is only a mother who should only do “motherly things” because any deviation from that may appear foreign and will upset the status quo. Even my appearance and dress may have irked her as I was not and hopefully still not, if God can help, matronly and dowdy. Was I too hip to be a mama? The passage of finding oneself is a solo journey. The fact my only child was not always in my journey to find self and to establish a new life has created regret in me. Another child may be accepting and may not even blink an eye as it could be a non issue, but for my daughter, this was something she struggled to cope with. She struggled with me. And I struggled with her struggling with me. I found myself a single mother at the age of 33. What was I suppose to do? Abdicate self-growth and become a small person’s personal maid? I don’t think so, dude! No doubt in the long run, I’d not only be of disserve to myself but also to my daughter whom I want desperately to evolve and develop into an authentically powerful and creative individual. How could my daughter learn if she sees her mother as an aimless and unimaginative weakling?

When I applied for Peace Corps, I did not tell my daughter. I knew well she would be highly upset as she had already showed complete distress over my last announcement of hiking Everest Base Camp in the Himalaya in Nepal: another one of Wendy Liu’s crazy stunts. It was only after receiving a nomination 5 months later from Peace Corps that I had to eventually apprise her. I will never forget carefully composing that e-mail on a hot and humid late evening on the balcony of my shabby guesthouse in Yangon, Myanmar while puffing a hand rolled Burmese cigarillo. I waited anxiously for days. In Kolkata, India, I finally received her reply. I trembled with anticipation as my fingers fumbled with my Iphone trying to open her message. I recall the uncomfortable and tingling sensation in my limbs and the sinking feeling in my heavy heart when I intently read her e-mail. Upon learning the news of possibly serving in the Peace Corps, my daughter abruptly left her class to go cry in the bathroom. She immediately wrote to her uncle, my brother, who plays a role of her surrogate father. She is a university student, a legal adult, and she feels she still needs her mother close by and not far away. She and I shared a mutual dilemma. A quandary presented itself and we quickly needed a solution. She didn’t want me to leave the country for 27 months and I wanted to leave the country for 27 months. We were at an impasse.

Who will concede and satisfy the other? I don’t go to make her feel secure that I’m not leaving the country for 27 months with the knowledge that I may not have this opportunity again or the interest and desire to apply once more in the future? Or I go do something important for myself but disappoint her again? Aside from being in contribution, I have a deep desire in wanting my young adult daughter to see that regardless of age and where you are in life, you can still dream and do crazy shit!

“ Hey daughter, look at me, your ol’ mum is joining the Peace Corps!  Am I a nutbag or what…and no, I’m not going through a mid life crisis? “ You’re probably not going to see many middle-aged Chinese women entering the Peace Corps; Prada and Chanel boutiques, yes, but not Peace Corps. They’ll shop in expensive designer boutiques buying 5 limited edition of Hermes handbags in every color or play mah jong…but to live in hardship for 27 months volunteering to work in a third world country? I’ve traded my Blahniks and Loubutin for Tevas and Keen. The latter are definitely more sensible shoes!

Ultimately, I made the executive decision to enter service and my daughter, perhaps feeling defeated, conceded and I was able to board the plane with as much peace of mind as possible given there was some pangs of conscience. I knew all along I was doing the right thing for myself and for her as well. She should accept that her single mother has a life and doing something worthy and if it’s not too conceited to say…possibly an example of how she, herself, should also do what she dreams and wants in life. Hell, she is smarter than me, therefore; she will go far only if she believes she can. I wholeheartedly know she can.

I had no internet but 5 seconds of weak connection enabled me to see my daughter’s posting on Facebook wishing me a Happy Mother’s Day in May 2013. If you saw me reading the message and the reaction that followed, me howling like a lone wolf, surely you’d think I just learned the death of someone I loved dearly. The impact of my daughter’s words has on me is powerful:

Shout out to my unconventional mother, Wendy Liu, on Mother’s Day, who is humbly serving the Peace Corps in Tanzania doing amazing things for our world. Your showers are cold, your stories are frightening, and your mobile uploads are straight out of National Geographic. You are an inspiration to many and I encourage you to keep on keepin’ on. Love, your one and only

Two months later when I finally traveled to the post office to pick up a care package from my mother, included was my daughter’s Mother Day/Birthday card to me. One passage she wrote:

I don’t frequently read your blog, but I do see the photos you post online and they are very eye opening and intriguing. You are an inspiration to a lot of people and you should feel proud of all the hard work you’re doing for the greater good. Maybe you are a mother figure for someone over where you are; that would be nice.

Wow, a mother figure to someone! That’s huge for me! Does this mean my kid doesn’t think I’m a total schmuck as a mother and could actually potentially be one?

I will now assume she is accepting and understanding what I am doing. I made the right choice to listen to my heart and to serve in the Peace Corps, regardless of my daughter’s initial protest.

I oftentimes imagine what my last breath on earth would be like. I would meditate myself into a peaceful calm so that I would let go of earthly issues and enter the next realm in absolute peace and love so I can be at a better place. If I wasn’t able to let go and peacefully pass on, it’s because I’m worrying about my only child. Is she okay with me? Is she angry with me? Has she not understood me? Does she have unresolved issues with me? Will all this affect her life and happiness? Will I be the source of her unhappiness? Although her message was a simple Mother Day’s wish and encouraging me to continue my work… for me, it holds deeper layered meanings.

Only if you are a parent would you be able to genuinely understand the profound longing of feeling the need of having your child’s validation and approval that you’re all right as a parent, that you are not entirely a complete douche bag of a mother or a scuzzbag of a father. When we become parents, we weren’t given a manual on how to be a good parent. It’s all trial and error. I may not have been Martha Stewart, Carol Brady or Ozzy Harriet…but maybe Wendy Liu is an okay mother that can show her a worthwhile thing or two. For this, I can die in peace knowing my child may finally get my drift...even if it’s a little drift.