By Hu Chia-yun, Specialist, Fundraising and Publicity Department, Good Shepherd Foundation
“For you, I spent half a year’s savings and crossed the ocean just to see you …”I never imagined that this once wildly popular pop song would one day strike so deeply in my own life. I was in the bloom of youth when I followed him across the ocean and married in Taiwan. My heart felt like cherry blossoms just opening, tender and romantic.
His family lived in a fishing village in the rural south. Life wasn’t luxurious, but we lacked for nothing. As the eldest daughter-in-law, I had to shoulder the responsibility of caring for the whole household. There were many women like me there, holding up the family finances on their own, so I told myself a little hardship was fine, if I just lived well with my husband, sweetness would follow the bitterness.
Later we had a child, and life grew even busier and harder. The friction between us gradually began to spin out of control. Every morning I went with my mother-in-law to the shop to sell noodles. At noon, under the blazing sun, I would pedal my bicycle home to cook for the family, then return to the shop in the afternoon to keep earning. Each round trip took at least an hour. And so I gritted my teeth and got through the days.
When did home become the place I feared most?
I can no longer remember when going home became the thing I dreaded most. If my ex-husband had been drinking, that was the start of my ordeal, because he would get violent. After a long day working and closing up shop, I was exhausted and only wanted to rest, but the thought of facing him flooded me with a dark fear and unease. If not for my child, I wouldn’t have dared go home at all. Back then, I could almost feel that my life might be snuffed out in the next second, and I didn’t dare think any further…
The sounds of furious quarrels at night and the crisscross of fresh and fading wounds on my face became how people in the village knew me. I felt the neighbors all knew what was happening in our home. Yet whenever I ran into them, their hesitant, half-spoken expressions cut me anew. Alone, I often burned with indignation: Why wouldn’t they help me? Why wouldn’t they speak up for me? I felt imprisoned and helpless, longing for someone to take me away from it all so I would never have to return to the place that left me covered in scars.
After my mother-in-law passed away, I, as the eldest daughter-in-law, kept vigil at the mourning hall for a long stretch. The solemn atmosphere and scene became the last straw that broke me.
As she lay dying, my mother-in-law held my hand and said, “You must take good care of the whole family.” It’s hard to describe the weight of that responsibility. I was grateful for her trust, but the burden was too heavy, more than I could bear. I couldn’t take care of everything. I thought to myself: If the beatings go on, I can endure them, but what about the children?
After I finished arranging my mother-in-law’s funeral, at last heaven showed me mercy and I was pulled back from being overwhelmed by suffering. With help from many people, I managed to take my children and escape the place I had once believed was “home.”
Self or responsibility, which should I choose?
“Shaken and unsettled” described the six months before I arrived at the Good Shepherd shelter. In reality, my children and I had gotten out, but separating my heart from the pain was never easy. After we came to the shelter, under the care of Good Shepherd’s social workers and resident life counselors, I realized my children needed more attention and professional support. So I cared for them as best I could while working hard to earn a living. Life was tough, but it began to feel more solid, and whenever the pain rose up, that was how I comforted myself.
Perhaps because I had long worked in the food business with my husband’s family, at first I was adamant about not doing snack-shop work again. Unexpectedly, when I started job-hunting, I found I actually felt most at ease working front-of-house, greeting customers. The income wasn’t much, hardship had always been the baseline of life, but I kept striving toward the day a new life would begin. I wanted to start over with my children.
Still, on some nights my mother-in-law would appear in my dreams and ask, “Why are you here?” Jerked awake, I would struggle with myself: “Am I being too selfish? Should I go back to my husband’s family and keep enduring so I can take care of them? But if I do, I’ll have to keep suffering my ex-husband’s violence and the neighbors’ cold stares.”
For a long time I was caught in this painful tug-of-war. When I was alone, only tears could soothe me. Fortunately, with the companionship and guidance of Good Shepherd’s social workers, resident life counselors, and a therapist, that inner pull gradually weakened. My mother-in-law stopped entering my dreams, and my spirit began to find comfort.
Growing My Own Strength
As my complexion slowly brightened, the Good Shepherd social workers and teammates helped me sort through every area of my life, above all, the unresolved marriage to my ex-husband.
I remember that when I first escaped, my mind was a complete blank. All I wanted was to get as far away as possible; I had neither the headspace nor the courage to think about anything else. Once I had calmed down, I began to hate everything that had happened and wanted to leave the marriage—but how can a bond between spouses be severed with a single stroke? At times I also worried about his condition. If the children and I both left, I didn’t dare imagine the consequences. So after each in-depth conversation with the Good Shepherd social worker, I often ended up mired in endless hesitation.
During that period, I’m grateful the social worker and the team led me step by step to retrace what had happened and to sort out the problems I would have to face, showing me how I could safeguard the future for myself and my children. Most importantly, I realized: I actually have the right to choose. Deciding isn’t easy, but laying out the path is a necessary process for a new beginning. Later, a friend introduced me to essential-oil aromatherapy and massage. In that world I found a new horizon. When I earned my aromatherapy certification, the Good Shepherd social workers were even more excited than I was, and that’s when it hit me: I am capable. I can.
At last, the day came to discuss divorce with my ex-husband. I handled everything calmly, with the social worker and a lawyer by my side. That day, the man who had loomed in my heart like a giant monster looked especially gaunt before me because of his illness. Looking back on this time, the Good Shepherd social worker stayed with me, encouraging me, helping me grow resilience and learn how to face whatever life brings. I have no regrets about any of it.
From That Moment On, We Had a New Relationship
I stopped my ex-husband in the hallway and said, “You will always be the children’s father. We’ll wait for you to get better.” From that moment, the relationship between us was redefined.
I had never imagined that I could ever “make peace” with my ex-husband. It may take a long time for me and the children to let go of the past, but with the support of the social workers and the women at the shelter, I gradually learned to set it down. Even if, in the days ahead, we each have to work hard on our own paths, don’t we still hope the other will live well?
During my time at the shelter, they gave me the warmest acceptance and understanding. My children and I went from having to clutch each other’s hands just to fall asleep, to slowly shedding our fear, learning the value of our own lives, and regaining a sense of wholeness. It reminded me of what the Good Shepherd social workers often told me: “It’s okay to go back and forth a few times—we’ll be here to accompany you and wait for you.”
On the day I reconciled with my ex-husband, there happened to be a runway party for the women at the shelter that evening. A social worker drove me back so I could dress up and attend. In the car, I wept as I thought back over everything. When I reached Taipei, I changed into the red dress I had prepared. The moment the flashbulbs lit me up, my heart suddenly cleared. On stage, I struck a confident pose, and I knew: “I am not just tonight’s Cinderella. From this moment on, I am my new self.”
The author is a specialist in the Advocacy & Planning Department at the Good Shepherd Foundation. Founded in 1987 (Minguo 76), the Good Shepherd Foundation launched Taiwan’s first halfway house for adolescent girls and has long focused on women’s and children’s issues. It serves women and children experiencing violence, girls in crisis, abused and neglected children, children who witness domestic violence, unmarried young mothers, high-risk youth, school dropouts, single-parent families, new immigrant families, Indigenous families, and victims of human trafficking. With 43 service sites across Taiwan, it is a pioneer in the protection of women and children.
