Ode to a BFF

I sat on my four-year-old's bed yesterday while she pounded her fists into the mattress and her own legs, her tiny but powerful voice angrily seething, "It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair" over and over again. I remember feeling that way as a kid: so angry and frustrated that you feel like it's going to explode out of you and words just aren't enough.

She wasn't having a tantrum. She wasn't being a brat. She was trying to work through the utter heartbreak of her best friend moving back to Canada from Cambodia. They met when she was 2 and a half and now she's 4 and a half and she can't remember when they weren't best friends. I remember. Because this isn't the first time she's been torn away from her friends.

When I was 12 years old, my lifelong best friend moved to California. It was awful. We spent every waking moment together for the 2 weeks before they left. It was an important event in my young life. Our 4-year-old daughter has now gone through that 3 times. The first time she was just 2 and didn't really understand what was going on, kept asking where her friend was. The second time was when we were coming back to Cambodia after a 6-month home leave and she was very sad to leave behind our close friends' daughter who we had spent a lot of time with that winter. This time it feels different. This time she's not a toddler, but a little girl who is starting to truly understand the distance, time, and "apart-ness" of living on the other side of the world. And she's angry about it.

I'm starting to understand the burden of responsibility for the impact of our decision to live overseas on our children's lives. We chose to do life in Cambodia. We chose to live far away from our family. We chose to live in a transient community where goodbye parties are our most frequent event. They didn't chose this, we chose it for them. We believe in the blessings, advantages, and opportunities this will give them, both now and later in life, but today, having said goodbye to both one of my best friends and my child's best friend, I understand her anger about these decisions.

So I sat on her bed yesterday and I pounded my fists into the mattress beside her, and I said, "I'm angry, too" and I affirmed her frustrations and grief and sadness. And I pray that that affirmation will be what she remembers, not just the anger and sadness at losing another friend, but that those feelings are valid and real. And that she won't bury the feelings and herself, but will keep expressing herself and opening herself up to other friends and people who come in and out of our lives. Because my 4-year-old is a great friend! She throws herself into friendship and loves wholeheartedly and passionately. And I never want her to lose that part of herself. 

...if only in my dreams

Charlie and I have missed a few Christmasses in Canada. This year will be the fourth Christmas we'll have spent in Cambodia (2008, 2012 & 2013); but also, because we're from different corners of Canada, we've also sometimes had to miss holidays with one of our families.

Our first Cambodian Christmas in 2008, when we dirt biked up to Ratanakiri

Christmas 2012, which was also Sam's first Christmas

Christmas 2013, when my sister Christa and her then-boyfriend/now-husband
spent the holidays with us!

Last year, Christmas in Montreal was very near perfect. My sister had just gotten married, we were over the jetlag, I was huge but not yet overdue (Christmas 2011 with Sam at 40 weeks + 5 days was another story!) and my parents pulled out all the stops to give us a holiday season we had dreamed of for years. In some ways, I'm carrying the high of last year with me into this coming December.

Last Christmas in Montreal, near perfection!

 Every year we are away for Christmas, Charlie and I always have a moment. We listen to Sarah McLachlan's "I'll be Home for Christmas," catch each other's eye, and share a few tears. It's almost become comical, because it always happens the same way. This year, our moment happened on November 1, when Charlie surprised me by putting on my beloved Christmas music weeks earlier than he normally allows. It's a beautiful version, have a listen!

I am really looking forward to Christmas in Cambodia this year. It's Ella's first Christmas, so that will be special. A number of our friends are staying in town this year, so we'll spend lots of time with them. I am singing in our church's Christmas choir, we'll do a Christmas Eve sleepover with our home group, we plan to go skating at the mall, turkey will be eaten on at least one occasion. We've been here for long enough that we feel we have our own Christmas traditions in Cambodia. We even brought a Christmas tree home with us from Canada (thank you, IKEA!)

But that song. That song reminds me that no matter who lovely Christmas is here, what I love most about this season is family. So I will cling to my beautiful little family here and grieve over missing out of the larger family back "home."

Expats Suffer From G.O.M.O.

One of my best friends here just gave birth, and it was a huge surprise. She was supposed to leave this past weekend for Bangkok, where she would hang out for a few weeks, waiting for the wee one to make his entrance at a Thai hospital. Well, wee one decided that 36 weeks was enough baking, thank you very much, and rushed into the world early one morning last week at a hospital here in Phnom Penh.

It has been an immense privilege to be close to our friends through this. I've mentioned before how friends become family in the expat community, so we truly feel like we are welcoming this new baby into the family! 

I think part of why I am so excited to be around for this is that we are missing so many things, big and small, that are happening with friends and family in other parts of the world. Instead of suffering from F.O.M.O. (which I also do, in general, to some extent!) I think many expats suffer from the Grief of Missing Out. We know we're missing things - births, parties, holidays, even deaths sometimes - and even though I would say we've made our peace about what it means to live overseas, we're still sad to miss out.

Missing all the people.

I'm in a What's App group with some of my Montreal friends, which they mostly use to make weekend and evening plans with each other. I haven't gotten around to leaving the text group since we came back from home leave, and I don't think I want to. I've made my peace about not being able to go to the pub after work or go hiking in the Laurentians this weekend, but I also like being a "fly on the wall" of their plan making. It helps with my grieving over these small missed events.

I have a few girlfriends in Montreal who are due in the next months, and it kills me a bit that I won't meet their babies for quite a while, that I won't be able to bring them frozen dinners, that I won't be able to drop by and hold the fort for a few minutes so they can, I don't know, go to the bathroom or something. I'm not afraid of missing out, I know I am, and I'm not sure it gets easier.

Do you suffer from G.O.M.O.? How do you handle it?