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. 

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? 

Happy New Year!!

And just like that, it's 2015!

It's going to be a big year for us. Half in Canada, half in Cambodia. Doubling the number of children we have (yikes!) Thinking through our roles and how to live out our calling when we return to Cambodia later this year.

For now, it's just the waiting game. Squeege may come any day now, or may take their sweet time and bake for an extra week or two! Hopefully, we'll have some exciting news within a week or so ;)

Sam is so excited to be a big sister!

It's a little amazing how "normal" it has felt to be home. We've settled in really well, we're in our own little place now and it's cosy and wonderful. I don't really miss Cambodia yet, although I do miss our community there. Knowing we're going back is a great feeling, and yet I'm so happy to be able to spend a few months in Montreal. 

For now, I'm content living in the moment and preparing myself for this second precious whirlwind about to enter our lives!

September 2014 Newsletter

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.