Category Archives: Taiwanese adoptees

Almost There!

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Now that I’m stepping away from the profession of psychotherapy, it feels okay to reveal my identity. Hey, I’m Mj, aka Moongirl! Before becoming a therapist, I shared photos regularly, but once I entered the field professionally, I felt the need to protect my privacy in case a client happened upon my site. It served its purpose for a long time, though I must admit it feels good to have a little more freedom now, and I hope to write more often again.

Just three more days until my resignation is official! I saw my final client today, and the rest of my time will be spent writing termination notes. Our clinical team is attending a “retreat” on Wednesday, my last day, and apparently we’re going to an escape room. I’ve never done one before, so that should be interesting. There’s something quite poetic about ending my career in mental health by trying to escape a locked room!

Despite the grief of saying goodbye to my colleagues and students, I’m beginning to accept that it’s time for me to move on. It has taken four years to fully realize that this work caused more than burnout. It unearthed pain by triggering and retriggering wounds of my own. To sit with that kind of suffering day after day eventually takes its toll. Yes, I spent years doing my own trauma work in therapy. I still don’t entirely understand why this profession affected me the way it did while other therapists with similar histories seemed less impacted. Perhaps I’m simply too sensitive — I sure as hell can’t figure it out.

In all honesty, the path of the witch, otherwise known as modern witchcraft, and spirituality have helped me heal more deeply than anything else, and for that, I’m profoundly grateful 🌙 It’s a deeply personal, lifelong spiritual and magikal journey, far removed from the way it’s often portrayed in movies. This path has guided me back to what feels most meaningful: nature, writing, music, spirituality, connection to self and others, and learning to trust myself. In many ways, it’s been a return to who I truly am.

To honor the closing of one chapter and the beginning of another, I’ll be celebrating with a new tattoo. Photos to come ✨

And I’m excited about starting a sound therapy practice, though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also a little scared. I’m not sure it’s the kind of work that generates a substantial income, but to me that isn’t the only measure of a meaningful life. For now, I suppose I’ll simply see what becomes of it. Life is too short — I don’t want to waste precious time! I hope to wake up on Thursday, drink my cup of coffee slowly, and lounge in bed all morning long. That is the life.

goodbyes are damn hard

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Hello out there, and happy May! I hope wherever you are, the weather is sunny and warm. It’s been a rather chilly spring thus far here in Southern California. We did have a few very warm days about a month ago, but since then it’s cooled off. I’m completely enjoying it.

I’m in the process of winding things down at the university — holding final sessions with clients and preparing for my departure. I underestimated how difficult it would be to say good-bye. When I was considering resigning last year, all I could feel was the fatigue, day after day, the burnout.

It’s funny — once you decide to leave, people begin to share their appreciation for you and your work. It’s difficult to truly assess any impact you’ve made when you’re “in it.” I enjoyed my role as the Asian & Pacific Islander (API) Liaison. I deeply loved the work, and I will miss the students and director of APCC (The Asian & Pacific Cultural Center), who has become a friend.

We recently held a cultural graduation celebration for the Asian & Pacific Islander/Southwest Asian & North African students. It was a more intimate gathering, a space to truly honor the graduates in a way the larger ceremonies simply can’t. I’m sure the students felt that. One student I’ve gotten to know pretty well over the past year asked me to attend their graduation, and I was so touched. So yes, my heart is breaking a little — maybe a lot. I think I’m writing this simply to give the grief somewhere to go.

Goodbyes have always been difficult, even as a young child — adoption trauma at its finest. I remember experiencing intense anxiety when my adoptive dad, in particular, went away on business trips. It was like a panic attack laced with grief, a kind of separation anxiety that sat so heavy in my chest. I hated being left at daycare and later, elementary school. Yep, I was the screamer and had terrible stomachaches at school that couldn’t be explained.

My godmother, Janie, visited our family once when I was in elementary school. When it was time for her to return home, I felt that same profound sadness and panic. With every day, I grew increasingly anxious and sad. I sobbed in the car as my mom and I took her to the airport. I stayed there, too embarrassed to step out because I couldn’t stop crying. For days afterward, I mourned her departure. I couldn’t find the words to explain the depth of my emotions, even when my mom asked. I recognize it now as simply pain.

Moments of separation still tend to feel like a small death, not to be morbid, just honest. The intensity has softened, but the grief remains. Some trauma wounds don’t fully close, I’m convinced. It’s part of being human, and perhaps what has shaped me into the trauma therapist I’ve become.

I have facilitated groups for the past three years at APCC. It’s such a vibrant hub where API students gather to study, hang out, play mahjong, and student workers/leaders host support groups. The group I facilitate is called HAPI Hour (get it?), and we explore different topics related to API student mental health. This Wednesday is our last one… and it will be a celebration of all the fun we’ve shared. What great memories I’ll have of the center and the students who I came to adore.

With my resignation, I’ll have more time to devote to sound therapy — growing my practice and following what calls to me. Still, I’ll miss the university, my colleagues, and the students, despite the burnout and those moments I wasn’t sure I could make it through another workday. Goodbyes are damn hard.

May the coming months open into a simpler, more inspired life — one filled with creativity, and of course, magick.

Photo by Alexander Popovkin on Unsplash

Crossroads

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I did it. Yesterday, April 17, under the New Moon, I resigned from my job. The New Moon symbolizes fresh beginnings, intention-setting, planting seeds, and quiet reflection. My last day will be May 20, the end of my contract and the close of the semester. A chapter is ending.

I began this role as a university psychotherapist in June 2023, just three days after leaving my ex-husband and moving into a small apartment of my own. In many ways, that job marked the beginning of a new life. But the work proved far more demanding than I had anticipated.

During my time at the university, I came to a quiet but persistent truth: I’ve never really enjoyed being a therapist. I kept waiting for it to get better, but it never did. Instead, the work grew heavier, increasingly draining. And I’m afraid not even the summer, winter, and spring breaks could prevent burnout.

What did light me up was my role as the Asian & Pacific Islander (API) Cultural Center Liaison, work rooted in supporting the mental health and wellbeing of API students. That space felt different — lighter — and the students were an absolute joy to work with.

I believe I’m a good trauma therapist. The starry heavens know I’ve poured years and more money than I care to recount on trainings, books, and a lifetime’s worth of lived experience. It just rings hollow. That may sound harsh. I wish I’d known then what I know now. I can’t reclaim that time, but I can choose what comes next: a slower, simpler, more artful life.

I’m hoping to grow my sound therapy practice, Om Sacred Sound Journeys, and leave room for whatever else wants to emerge. I know music will be part of this next chapter and writing, too. I’m planning on beginning a new book.

My last book never found commercial success. I’ve only just started reading it for the first time since it was published in 2017. I mean, how many times did I reread, reshape, and edit the draft? The story of my first trip to Taiwan to meet my birth family marks one of the most significant chapters of my life. Publishing it wasn’t for nothing. A younger version of me wrote those pages from a very different place. And still, the emotions are just as vivid, from the search to the moment we found our way back to one another.

Earlier this week, the oracle card “to the stars and beyond” surfaced in my (tarot) reading from Rose Bae Tarot’s These Blue Bones, a deck having a moment right now. It felt like both a spark and an affirmation for my decision to resign. Lately, I find myself thinking about mortality, not out of gloom, but clarity. Time shifts as we mature. There’s less time to do what makes you happy. In this season, I get to choose how I live it. Autonomy. Personal sovereignty. Independence. Let me embody this new path, to the stars and beyond.

This song brings me back to my younger self. I’ve been especially nostalgic of late. It may not quite fit this post, but it fits my mood perfectly.

Honor Rest & Renewal on Samhain

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Today, I pause. I breathe. I rest and honor my ancestors on this blessed Samhain.

I’m grateful to have the day off – to simply be. To sit in stillness and solitude without the weight of expectation feels like a blessing in itself. The veil is thin today, and I lean into the presence of those who came before me – my birth mother and father, and the lineage of ancestors whose names I may never know. I honor them, and I honor the mystery that connects us across time and space.

Lately, life has felt full and demanding. I’m working full-time again, and though I hoped summer break would bring the restoration I so deeply needed, fatigue seems to have returned too soon. Halfway through the fall semester, I find myself wondering how to sustain balance – how to counsel others, meet the demands of my current job while not forgetting myself.

My dream remains clear: To eventually transition into full-time sound therapy work. Supporting my adult daughter these past two years has delayed that shift, yet I hold faith that in time, things will align. When she finds her footing, I’ll be able to step more fully into the work my heart longs for, creating healing spaces through resonance, stillness, and sound.

Despite the challenges, I’m proud of the small steps forward. I’ve completed my website, OM Sacred Sound Journeys, a milestone that feels like planting a tiny seed. Beginning next February, I’ll offer bi-weekly sound therapy sessions, a sacred rhythm I hope will grow into something sustainable and nourishing. 

I’m reconnecting with my musical roots, singing and playing for a herd I once worked with in equine-assisted psychotherapy and slowly returning to my guitar after years away. These small acts of reconnection remind me that healing unfolds gradually, as does starting a private practice.

Self-employment feels both thrilling and terrifying. The freedom to follow my calling is overshadowed by the very real worries of bills, rent, health insurance, and all the practicalities of life. Yet amidst uncertainty, I sense that this path is where I’m meant to go.

So today, under the quiet light of Samhain, I choose rest. I choose reflection. I choose to listen deeply to the whispers of my ancestors, to the call of my own heart, and to stillness. May this season bring renewal, remembrance, and faith in what is yet to come.

Photo by Catherine Crawford on Unsplash

ROC national day

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Taiwan, The Republic of China (ROC), celebrates National Day, otherwise known as Double Ten Day, on October 10th every year. Taipei, Taiwan, is my place of birth. I was adopted as an infant by an American family, and consequently, lost all connection to Taiwan and my first/birth family. That changed, however, over the Lunar New Year of 2012, at which time I traveled to Taipei to reunite with my first family including my two older sisters and brother, my uncle, niece and nephew, and close family friends. Sadly, I know very little about Taiwan’s history and had even less knowledge of Double Ten Day . So I messaged my oldest sister to learn more about its significance. I’m so glad I did, and my sister seemed pleased that I wanted to know more about Taiwan’s history. So I share what I learned now with my fellow Taiwanese adoptees.

Double Day Ten in Mandarin is 雙十節. 雙 means double or two; 十 means ten; 節 means day. Here is the history of Double Ten that my sister shared with me:

The Wuchang Uprising in China occurred at the beginning of the Revolution of 1911, and the Qing Dynasty, China’s last imperial dynasty, was overthrown by Chinese revolutionaries. The Republic of China was subsequently established on January 1, 1912. Since the first day of the Wuchang Uprising occurred on October 10, 1911, October 10 is commemorated as the anniversary of the founding of the Republic of China. My sister shared that there is not as much importance attached to Double Ten Day as in years past. She remembers that, at one time, there were many activities on National Day, and the whole country was joyous. The national flag was flown all over the sky, and national flags were placed everywhere on the streets and lanes, fluttering beautifully. There was a flag-raising ceremony at the Presidential Plaza at six o’clock in the morning, and during the day, the heads of state, officials from various ministries, and invited international guests gathered in the stands to watch a military parade. The Air Force and Army presented majestic shows. It was a very popular holiday, and there were numerous performances by various groups celebrating various folk customs. What everyone looked forward to most was the fireworks at night. Colorful fireworks were placed in the square in front of the Presidential Palace, bringing on cheers and applause. Everyone enthusiastically participated in the parade, holding a small flag and walking around for a long time following the performances. My sister said that In recent years, there have been firework displays at Taipei 101 and Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall. She shared that these are the memories of older generations, and the jubilance once felt as a nation on this day has diminished. Now there are different kinds of activities on Double Ten in Taiwan but it is just a holiday without the same jubilance, and few young people pay attention to its meaning.

I asked about the Double Ten flag and Taiwan’s national flag. My sister explained, our national flag is based on the blue sky with a white sun created by the revolutionary martyr, Lu Haodong, and the founding father, Sun Yat-sen, with red as the background color. The 12 rays of light on the sun represent the 12 months of the year and the 12 traditional Chinese hours in a day (each ray equals two hours). In 1928, the red and blue flag with the white sun officially became the national flag of the Republic of China. The white flag with the double ten red Chinese characters is the flag that represents Double Ten Day.

I appreciate this history lesson about Taiwan from my sister. I hope it has meaning for you, too. There is still so much to learn and know. Incidentally, my daughter’s birthday is on October 10, to which my sister said, she has lucky blessing!