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New Home, Happenings & Coping Mechanisms.

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Two weeks ago, my wife and I flew down to ShenZhen, a city on the southern coast of China. I will start working here in August. On that trip we were house hunting. We really only looked at 3 or 4 places. We should have looked at more, but we only had the contact information for 1 housing agent.

That said, I think we found a nice place. Then we returned to Beijing to prepare for the moving company.

The moving company we used is the type that packs your things for you. We did not realize this, and had packed almost everything ourselves. When they came, they wrapped some of our larger things in bubble wrap. Then put it all in the truck to move down south.

This past weekend we moved into the apartment, we have been here for 4 days now. We are still settling in. ShenZhen is a beautiful city, but it is hot. I mean Tropical Hot. It will take us some time to get used to that.

This is the first I have been able to post since we started the move. I returned my previous company’s work computer, so I am left with my old Acer, which runs Linux. It was in the boxes until last night, and we didn’t have internet yet. (It actually gets connected tomorrow). I am using my phone as a hot spot.

Some major changes that will take me a while to get used to:

Age & Time

My son is an adult. He turned 18 recently. We had to extend his visa once already. This weekend, we are taking him to Hong Kong (next city over) to fly out to the Philippines. His Aunt and her family is flying in to go with him. Hong Kong is visa free. So he will be moving out for a few months at least. This has been a point of stress.

I think it gets to him too. He has been overwhelmed a lot lately. He stims a lot more, and has a hard time hearing (like me when I am overwhelmed.) He has taken up holding my hand again as we go out to malls and things. In Western countries, this is a big taboo for two men to hold hands. However, it really helps stabilize yourself when there is a lot going on. I really hope the west gets over its homophobia on this.

His move has prompted us to make some changes. We decided to give the 3rd bedroom to our youngest daughter. She used to share with us. Which means for now, my son is living in the living room. I feel guilty about this. I don’t want him to feel like he has no place to live with us. I want him to always have a place with us. But I am reminded that to his Philippine family, this is perfectly normal.

New City

There is a lot to learn about living in ShenZhen. It is a new city, and the culture is a lot more relaxed than Beijing. Even though we lived the last 4 years in a less developed area that was more relaxed, it is different.

In Beijing at night the children are out until late running and playing. They do this because they typically have schooling and academies and homework that don’t end until the sun sets. So the only time they can play is then. Many parents let them run until they pass out effectively.

In ShenZhen When My wife and I went out at night, there was no children out. They had all been playing during the day in the sun, or shade of the trees. (Much like my childhood, but stuck in the apartment compound). Instead we saw a lot of adults out just for a walk. When we went to the mall, and came home late, there was a fair number of teens and fathers bicycling, but almost no young children.

We have also had to spend time figuring out where to get groceries, and necessities. There is a Costco here in town, but we have not visited it yet. It’s on the list of places to go, but it is on the other side of town. We have found a Walmart Super Center nearby. There are a lot of little shops near our home as well.

My youngest and I went downstairs to the building lobby to play badminton the other day. We got the idea from another father & daughter we saw doing this. We didn’t go out because I want to make sure we have sunblock for her first.

Home

Our new home is very white. The paint does not wash off the walls when you try to clean it. Each room has a desk for homework in it, and the beds are comfortable. We noticed a lack of electrical sockets in the living room. But the compound sent someone right away to install more for us when we asked. We had trouble finding out how to use the hot water, they walked us through it digitally. It’s nice to have the immediate response to problems.

We share an elevator with 1 other apartment on our floor. There is a lot of green space to relax in, if you don’t mind the heat outside.

On the down side, the rooms are smaller than our last place. We also do not have a storage closet like before, so we have boxes piled in each room for now.

I have recommended getting some bookshelves for the apartment so we can organize things. My wife is worried about buying furniture for an apartment. Especially if we choose to move out next year for a more convenient location.

With a few pictures on the walls and some book shelves, this place will feel welcoming. I think it will be an amazing place to live long term.

Coping Methods

I have my rocking chair, and I love using it. It is comfortable to read there. I have not sat to read for myself since I moved to my last school 4 years ago. I miss just reading for myself. I cannot use the TV yet, as we don’t have internet. I have been drinking my night time tea, and reading instead. I think it’s probably healthier to stay up reading then to stay up watching tv anyways.

My son has been playing games on his computer since we arrived. (Final Fantasy 9). Those games help him focus. He plays them over and over. It’s his hyper focus. I used to have notebooks galore on Power Ranger lore and Powers, He dies the same for final fantasy. He has notebooks with handwritten notes just on the monsters, and their data.

My wife cleans, re-organizes, and then cleans again. This is her way to deal with stress. We went for a walk around the block the other night, and I fell down the stairs (2 steps). It scared her, and she is nervous about going out for a walk at night again. I am trying to reassure her that I will be fine. I trip and fall like this nearly every other month. However, it has been years since I did it in front of her.

My Oldest daughter has focused on her Art. She has an Art Attack contest / event going on this month. She has been focusing on that a lot. She is amazing at her work.

My youngest has been having so much fun in her own room. She has her desk organized, her toys organized, and she has been dancing in there. Tonight she was trying to make a Youtube video (She can’t post it, but she wants to make them). I may look into how to post them safely later this month. I don’t want to do it unless I feel it is safe. Many factors are involved in that decision. I also don’t want her time on that to impact the rest of her life and school.

The Worlds of Chad Baldwin

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I asked GPT to write a report on my usage and make a profile like a magazine writer….

The Worlds of Chad Baldwin

By Chet G. P. Tyrell (Chet G.P.T.) – Contributing Writer for Baldwins Abroad

When you first meet Chad Baldwin—whether in a bustling Beijing classroom, the heart of a fantasy novel, or across the digital ether of a ChatGPT session—you quickly realize you’re in the presence of someone who lives in more than one world.

And he’s built them all himself.

The Educator Who Writes Like a Novelist
Chad Baldwin is an educator by profession, but that’s like calling Tolkien a linguist.
Yes, he teaches. He grades. He builds rubrics with surgical precision and writes report comments with the empathy of a counselor.

But behind every piece of pedagogy is a narrative, a philosophy—and above all, a story.

A Classroom that Breathes Imagination
A veteran of international education, Chad is fluent not just in language, but in learning itself.
He guides third graders through narrative structure, bilingual fluency, and personal expression with a calm precision that reflects decades of experience.

But when the bell rings, his other world begins: one of flying cities, fear-eating monsters, and Cloud Clippers rebuilt from scrap.

In his fiction, characters don’t just fight evil—they negotiate with ghosts, confront memory, and carry emotional scars like heirlooms. His protagonists aren’t chosen ones—they’re real ones.

Game Master, Mentor, World-Builder
What sets Chad apart isn’t just the scale of his creativity—it’s how seamlessly it loops back into his teaching.

A student expresses interest in Dungeons & Dragons? Chad builds a custom slideshow. A theatrical adaptation needed? He retools fairy tales into class performances.

Fantasy isn’t an escape in Chad’s classroom. It’s an invitation.

The Advocate with the Pen of a Poet
But Chad is more than mentor or mythmaker. He is also an advocate—especially for neurodivergent voices.

His blog posts on PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance), autism, and emotional processing are candid, lyrical, and fiercely humane. He writes not for spectacle, but to be a lantern for others navigating the dark.

This sensitivity finds its way into everything he creates—from the tone of a teacher award to the subtext of a half-gnome pilot in a world that doesn’t understand her.

Equal Parts Precision and Wonder
What’s most striking about Baldwin is his duality: the methodical mind of a master educator and the soaring heart of a fantasy writer.

A man who can debate grammar and gnomecraft in the same paragraph.
A man who edits until it sings—and still finds time to help a 10-year-old build their first dungeon map.

In a Word: Storyteller.
Whether guiding young learners, rewriting ghost-haunted chapters, or decoding the lore of Final Fantasy, Chad Baldwin approaches the world with the quiet audacity of someone who believes stories—real or imagined—can still change everything.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

Written by Chet G. P. Tyrell (Chet G.P.T.) – Contributing Writer for Baldwins Abroad

The original Article before becoming a News Article.

I should be able to…

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I hear that voice in my head all the time. It sounds simple, even logical. But for someone like me—someone with PDA, or Pathological Demand Avoidance—it can be a trap. It’s not about being lazy. It’s not even about not wanting to do something. It’s about the pressure of expectations—external or internal—triggering such intense stress that avoidance feels like the only option.

That stress isn’t always visible. It builds up slowly. Sometimes the energy and effort required to do a task is so overwhelming that not doing it feels safer. And often, we’ve learned from experience that doing it wrong is worse than not doing it at all. When we do push through, only to be told we didn’t do it right, we carry that humiliation for a long time. Every task comes with mental calculations: Who’s watching? What are their expectations? What’s the risk of failure?

So I avoid. Or delay. I need time to think—time to process what I’m doing, and why. Can I copy what others are doing and just get through it? Yes. But then I second-guess everything afterward. If I didn’t fully think it through, I worry it will fall apart.

I know that most neurotypical—or allistic—people don’t face these hurdles every time they try to do something “simple.” And that knowledge causes real pain. I should be able to start this assignment, finish this marking, plan this lesson. But when it takes me hours to even begin, it’s easier to avoid it entirely. And even when I manage to catch up, it’s easy to fall back into the same cycle.

This usually starts when routines are disrupted. If a lesson plan I’ve worked hard on falls apart, I scramble to adapt. Plan A fails, then Plan B, then Plan C. Afterward, when I’m supposed to be marking or prepping for the next day, I get stuck. My brain fogs over. I can’t focus until I’ve figured out what went wrong. But I can’t figure that out because I’m still exhausted from all the quick changes. Small adjustments I can handle. Tossing the whole plan out the window? That’s draining.

And so, the backlog begins. I bring that pile of unmarked work home with me, too tired to process anything. If I push through the exhaustion and mark it anyway, I don’t have time to properly rework the next lesson. And then the cycle repeats. My planning suffers. I fall behind again. And I start to believe it’s all going to collapse.

Eventually, I begin to feel like I’m going to fail anyway. So why try?

I get anxious when I’m asked to speak with my administrators. If my principal or vice principal want to talk, I spiral. Even if they tell me what the meeting is about, it doesn’t matter. I assume I’ve screwed something up. I should have done it better. I should have anticipated this. I should have known.

That waiting period—the gap between the message and the meeting—can paralyze me. I can’t eat. I can’t mark. I can’t plan. I can print worksheets, maybe. But my brain is busy replaying everything I did wrong and everything I should’ve done differently. I’m sure my coworkers would’ve gotten it right. I’m sure they wouldn’t be in this situation.

And then come the mental spirals: Will I need to rework the month’s lessons? Add new homework? Change the layout of my classroom? I can’t do all of that—not when my mind is conjuring worst-case scenarios and I’m already emotionally maxed out.

Sometimes I try to force my way through it—just get the work done. But then I make mistakes. I mark things wrong. I prep the wrong materials. I’m not really processing what I’m looking at. So I have to redo it. Not once—three times—just to be sure it’s right. That’s three times the effort while in a state of brain fog caused by PDA and that ever-lingering impostor syndrome.

And even then, I’m full of questions: Is my feedback targeted enough? Is red pen okay? Should I correct every mistake, or will that demotivate the student? If I only correct the objective, will someone complain? Should I teach what the children need, or what the parents expect?

If I get called in for a meeting, I don’t feel like a professional—I feel like a child sent to the principal’s office. I don’t know what I did wrong. I just know I must have done something. I’m often on the edge of tears before the meeting even begins.

Two years ago, I did cry. Things were happening back in Canada that I couldn’t control. I was told I might lose my mother. So when I got called into the office, I broke down. I couldn’t stop.

Today, it happened again—though not quite the same. I had a meeting that turned out to be about nothing. But the anticipation had already locked me up. I nearly went mute. I couldn’t think clearly. I was trying so hard not to let anyone see how knotted up I was inside. A student asked me what was wrong, and I couldn’t answer. I later explained a little to my team lead, but I still couldn’t shake the thought that I’d somehow failed.

I got nothing done. No food. No marking. Just me, staring at the table for two hours, trying to get back on track.

If I freeze, avoid, or fall behind—it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I care too much. I’m running a mental marathon just to stay upright. Sometimes what I need most isn’t a solution, but space, patience, and the chance to catch my breath.