Unemployed.

4 lessons from a period of non-work

This year has been a year of "redirection," a year I decided I would stop taking short-term contracts in areas I liked to try and pursue a vocation I love. Anxiety, fear, and low self-esteem promptly ensued. But I have stayed at it, and I feel like I'm actually learning some things. 

Here are 4 of my big lessons this year.

1. We are incredibly loved and supported.

Over the last year, we have struggled financially. Taking time away from work because E was born, and then taking time away from work because of my decision to redirect my career have taken a toll on our budget and bank account. And yet we are making it. Last year, in a particularly strained month, our good friends casually gave us an envelope with $400 in it. This past week, in the aftermath of our home invasion, friends and family have graciously and unceremoniously given and sent us money to help cover the losses. We have also received incredible words of comfort and encouragement and have felt our entire community lift us up in prayer and support. As I have struggled to find my way in a new career path, our supporters have been patient and they and our wider community have loved me so well through all my uncertainty, impatience, and tears. Like never before have I felt the beauty and comfort of my village.

I hope I do not take it for granted.

2. We are incredibly privileged.

Even though we have struggled financially, we know for a fact that we will be ok eventually. We will make money eventually. We are taking money from our line of credit this month to buy a car, confident that we will pay it back pretty soon. We are both well educated, we have a vast safety net (as evidenced above!), we buy international health insurance, and we have a privileged notion that hard times are temporary. And it is clear as day that this is not how the majority of the world lives. And so, even though we’re in a “dry” patch right now, we are still stewards of our income and possessions, and ever humbled by the privilege we have luckily inherited.

I hope I use my privilege to build up others.

3. Taking time away from work really does give you room to think.

The idea I had at the beginning of the year of what type of work I would pursue is a little different from what I am gravitating towards and pursuing now. And that evolution happened because I actually took time away from working. I made the decision to not take any contract that came my way, but to be “picky” and, as of August, only apply for full-time work. As much as this caused me anxiety, it also gave me room to think, network, and ask myself (and others) the tough questions about how I want to engage in the development sector. And the answers have led me in a different direction than I was expecting but am now incredibly excited about.

I hope I can remain reflective as the process continues.

4. My worth is not in my work.

Yes, I am guilty of placing far too much of my self-worth in the job I have and my professional/academic achievements. I have been to some dark places this year where I have felt like I was drifting because I wasn’t employed and didn’t know when I would be (I’m still there, but not feeling so dark). Meanwhile, Charlie got an amazing promotion and is feeling more fulfilled than ever in his career. I am so proud of him and my heart is so full seeing him so passionate. Although I’m not jealous, it was a stark contrast to my seemingly aimless professional period. And then my Mom reminded me that we are not in Cambodia just “to work” and that work is not who I am. This year I got to spend tons of time with my kids, went on play dates and coffee dates with friends, and I got to know a beautiful and supportive community of stay-at-home moms. I also have a lot of friends who are figuring out their own career paths, and I have felt a deep sense of purpose when chatting with them about similar issues we are wrestling with.

I hope I can hold true to a deeper sense of purpose when I become employed.

Have you ever felt adrift in your professional life? How do you balance your sense of self when it  comes to "work/life balance"? Any tools or resources to share in this areas?

3 Things that Scare me About Taking a Leap of Faith

It's time. Time for a leap faith.

After dedicating much of my work time over the past few years to Chab Dai projects, I've decided, after a lot of prayer, discernment, conversations with mentors, family, and friends, tears, dreaming, and anxiety...

I have stepped away from contractual work with Chab Dai and am working on building up my skills and experience to work in something I feel a strong passion and calling for. It's hard to know what to call it, because it could take many forms, but basically I am pursuing my calling in economic empowerment. Whether that is community economic development, social enterprise, economic resilience and reintegration programming, or research and model testing, I'm not sure. I'm open to all of it! 

A few weeks in, and I am pretty evenly split between utter excitement and talking myself out of a panic attack. Because it's scary. I'm scared. And this is what scares me most:

1. Financial uncertainty: after writing a research report on the subject, I self-diagnosed: Hello, my name is Julia, and I suffer from financial anxiety. Making the decision this year that I won't take work unless it is in the economic development and research realm has meant we're living really tight. And that's OK (that's Charlie talking). We're able to cover our basic expenses every month. And of course that leads me to feel incredibly guilty that I even feel anxious because we live in a country where many people can't say that. But there you have it: I worry about eeking it out every month.

2. What if I'm not good? What if up until now I've taken the easy road and excelled because I wasn't pushing myself and now that I go after what I really truly want to do, I fall flat? What if I'm all talk and can't deliver? What if I'm a fraud? No matter how much someone (*ahem*Charlie*) can tell me logically why I'm ready for this, that little voice is there, telling me I'm not.

3. What if I can't actually balance work/parent life? Since S was born, I've worked, quite a lot, but never in a full-time, 9:00-5:00 job. I've been able to make my own schedule, which worked great, because I wanted to have the flexibility to take a morning here or a day there to be with my babies. I think I'm ready for full-time work, but I haven't tried it yet, so what if it doesn't work? 

So that's it. My three biggest fears this year. Welcome to my panic attack.

Here's my antidote to fear and anxiety: prayer. I'm 100% serious. When I feel the fear creeping in, the anxiety taking over, I try to sit down and meditate, focus on communing with God, and most often it calms my spirit. It doesn't mean the fear and anxiety go away forever, but sometimes it's just enough to get me through the day. And not only does it calm the anxiety, but I often end meditating being reminded of the excited part of this journey. I'm going after my dream! I'm following a calling! I live in Cambodia and it's pretty awesome!

And I think, "See you later, fear and anxiety!" (And I do.)

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? 

5 Reasons We Do What We Do

This year we got 2 Thanksgiving dinners! One with dear friends, cozy chats, and amazing food, another at a good friend's restaurant, where we met new people, had equally amazing food, and almost got blown away by a tropical storm! Take a look at our stormy meal here!

Thanksgiving makes me reflect on the providence and blessing that has been our calling here in Cambodia, and recently got me thinking about all the many reasons we "ended up" here, doing what we do.

Sometimes when our parents tell people who don't already know us what we do, a common follow-up question is, "Do you fear for their safety?" And the answer is (mostly), "No, not really." And it's not because our parents are cavalier about our safety (there's a reason I don't show my Mom pictures of our whole family on a motorbike), but it's because the type of work we do in anti-trafficking is not really of the "unsafe" variety.

We're not directly doing investigations, rescue operations, or survivor aftercare. Charlie works in human resources, volunteer management, and organisational development, while I do a lot of research, strategic planning, and program support and development. 

We could be doing something else, somewhere else (yes, we are hoping our skills are transferable!) Why this? Why here? Why now? So here are 5 of the reasons we have chosen to do these things in anti-trafficking, in Cambodia.

One of the many gorgeous views from our apartment in Phnom Penh

1. We're not social workers, police officers, or counsellors

• In order to do direct work with survivors of trafficking, one usually needs a background in one of these or related areas. But there is a need for so many types of skills in the anti-trafficking movement. A movement needs all kinds of people to make change. So we have found a way to use our own skills to join the movement against exploitation, slavery, and abuse.

2. We are skilled, and are committed to using those skills to participate in change-making

• Through a long road of education, internships, mentoring, reading, and other work experience, we came to Cambodia and found we could apply skills learned elsewhere to contribute to the anti-trafficking mission. We love being part of something big, and we hope we're a part of making change in the world for the better.

3. We believe in doing with, not doing for

• One of our favourite writers is Bryant Myers, who wrote Walking with the Poor, and we are challenged to look at why and how we participate in development and human rights championing in ways that empower and strengthen our Cambodian colleagues. This often means doing more "behind the scenes" work, rather than frontline work.

4. We're passionate about how development and human rights are intrinsically linked

• We love discussions about human trafficking in the framework of human rights and development, and using our development background to understand the issues within the big picture of human capabilities. It is helpful to have people from many walks of life and work sectors come together to form a holistic view of community transformation.

5. We're excited about change and hope in Cambodia

• We don't know for sure how long we'll be in Cambodia, but we are both so in love with this country and find it incredibly exciting to be here during this time in its development. There is a lot to do, but there is also hope for the future, and it's exciting for us to be part of that.

We feel so thankful for being where we are, being challenged and contributing to something we believe in deeply.

Why do you do what you do? What are you thankful for?

Sometimes Cambodia looks like Hawaii

A friend recently made a comment on a picture we posted of us having some weekend pool-side family time that went something like, "You sure look like you live in luxury over there in Cambodia."

And, I have to be honest, it hurt.

First, it may have sounded, and maybe even been intended, as an offhanded "funny" comment, but there is judgment behind it.

It assumes that, for some reason, because we are called to work overseas, we should be living in, or close to, dire straights, and that we should always be focused on our call and work here.

It assumes that we do not take our work here seriously because we take some time to relax, or, God forbid, go on vacation.

It assumes (well, outright states) that we live opulently, which hurts because we actually try to be really intentional about simple living and being good stewards of our resources.

It assumes, and this one really hurts, that because part of our salary is supporter-dependent, we owe them all our time, all our possessions, and should not give the impression that we are ever wasting a penny of the money they are sending us.

Because taking a couple hours by the pool on a weekend would be wasting money, because it doesn't have anything to do with fighting trafficking.

Don't get me wrong. I believe wholeheartedly in accountability and I am every day incredibly grateful that we have such a wonderful community of financial supporters who donate to our work, and we hope that in some way they feel part of our work by supporting us.

We work hard. We work 30-40+ hours per week. And we like relaxing by the pool on weekends. Our pictures on Facebook may reflect more of that because, well, pictures of us doing our work looks kind of what pictures of you doing your work look like. And we just don't think of taking pictures of ourselves at meetings. And pictures of us hanging out with our daughter are fun and we like bragging about her, and there are palm trees in the background because we live in a tropical climate.

This is us working. Pretty boring, right?

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All I can do is pray

I sat at my kitchen table yesterday, across from my daughter, and, through tears, read another article about the more than 200 Nigerian girls abducted from their school to be sold into forced marriage.

I cried and my 2-year-old daughter asked, "Mama sad?" and kissed my cheek.

I cried because I CANNOT imagine the pain and helplessness the parents of those girls are going through, but I know how much I LOVE my daughter and it is an overwhelming, protective, intense love that I would die for without a second thought.

I cried because I work in this sector and some days I feel like there is more bad news than good.

I cried because I feel helpless in the face of this kind of evil, because I know this is not what Allah really requires of his followers, but some people use his name in vain for evil purposes.

We work and we fight and we try and some days, all we can do is pray. Because there is hope. I have to believe there is hope.

The Importance of a Space

Our Chab Dai book club just finished Stephen Covey's 7 Habits for Highly Effective People, and our final discussion on Habit 7 centred around self-care, or what Covey calls the Four Dimensions of Renewal:

We got to talking about how caring for ourselves may look differently in this country and our line of work than it would elsewhere. I asked Helen, who has been here for 15 years, what she does to maintain a healthy lifestyle and balance living in a developing context and working in such a difficult sector as counter-trafficking. Among other things, she mentioned that her stress levels have been much improved since she and her husband had their own house built outside the city; it is indeed a very tranquil place, with  big garden, a lovely large kitchen, and quiet surroundings. We enjoy retreating there from time to time!

Sam and me hanging out in "Auntie" Helen's pool

This got me thinking about the importance of a space, a place you can withdraw to, and how important that your home be a place of refuge and rest. I think this is especially important when your daily interactions will inevitably include at least one moment of discomfort, misunderstanding, or frustration. It's just the territory living overseas comes with.

Although I wouldn't want to live outside an urban area (I am a city girl through and through!) Charlie and I have put effort into creating an oasis we can retreat to as well as a welcome place for others to find fun and peace in. It even made it into our recently written family purpose statement!*

Six months after arriving in Cambodia, we moved out of our "perfectly fine" apartment, which was actually causing a lot of stress in our lives (overbearing landlady, plumbing and electric in constant need of repair, not feeling at home in our own home). It was only when we moved into our current home that I realised how much our living space was stressing me out and impeding my transition and settling in process.

We now live in a 5th floor flat that I LOVE, though still has its pros and cons. No elevator means everyone who comes over arrives out of breath, including me, and I often have to do it carrying grocery bags and 23 lbs. of squirmy toddler. On the bright side, being so high up on a main street means we're away from the street noise (and I'm getting legs of steel).

Pro: we're investing in artwork! This one is by British,
Phnom Penh-based artist, David Holliday
Con: I do not like the murky brownish orange that
covers our front gate and stair railings.

Half our apartment is a large covered balcony and we have an outdoor kitchen, which, despite my initial reservations, I actually love (for one thing, cooking doesn't heat up the whole house). It does mean more dust and occasional rainstorm invading our living space, but it also means cool evening breezes and a large communal area that is great for receiving people.

The biggest pro is it feels like home and is our oasis in the heart of a bustling neighbourhood - I'll tell you about up-and-coming ToPo another time ;) Although there are still many times we feel like outsiders in Cambodia, our apartment is a safe place that has helped us feel at home in this country.

Charlie & Sam enjoying a puzzle in our outdoor
living room/kitchen

*If you're interested in how we developed our purpose statement, we used a easy tool that has you answer a number of questions and narrow down your family priorities. You can find it here: http://bit.ly/PS3Hr7.

Oui, allo?

A word that a lot of Christians use, and I try to use well and meaningfully, is "calling." I am often keenly aware of why and how I use it, mainly because it may not mean much to those outside a Christian (and perhaps a narrow segment of Christian, at that) culture.

What is calling? What is calling to me?

I recently responded to an online survey for humanitarian aid workers and one of the questions really got me thinking.

[Sidenote: Are you a humanitarian aid worker? Take the survey here! It takes about 30 minutes.]

The question was:

Which statement below *best* describes your primary reason for becoming an aid worker?

• Ended up as an aid worker by accident or "unintentionally"
• I felt called by God or a higher power
• I was following my dream to provide aid for those less fortunate than myself
• I needed an adventure in my life and being an aid worker sounded like a good idea
• I could not find any other employment
• I followed a friend or significant other into the field of aid work
• None of the above even comes close to articulating my reason for becoming an aid worker.

As I read "I felt called by God" I thought, "Of course, that's the one." Until I read the next line, and then I had a mini brain explosion. I stared at the two options for a good couple of minutes, talked to Charlie, stared a little longer. And came to the conclusion that both answers are the same for me, and that one doesn't even follow the other, but they are weirdly and beautifully intertwined.

I believe that God uses what I am passionate about to call me, while also being the source of that passion. I think calling is about using my God-given gifts (which I have tried to steward by developing into usable skills), resources, and passion to live a life that is other-centered. 

God is love. Jesus was all about loving and serving others, especially the vulnerable and marginalised. This doesn't mean everyone, or even every Christian, needs to work in some form of humanitarian aid, but it sure does mean we need to treat the vulnerable and marginalised with dignity and respect, as Jesus did. 

Working in development and human rights is how I live out this "calling."

As always, still haven't figure it all out. Does anyone? How do you see your "calling"? Do you have issues with the idea of "calling" in the first place?