Home, Sweet… Nevermind

The past few months couldn’t have gone more differently to what I anticipated. The last time I sat down to write, I had just completed a monumental race through the Borneo jungle and was getting ready to wrap up my life in Cambodia and move to Malaysia. That story left off with pride, eagerness to keep exploring, and optimism for the new life I was about to create for myself in Kuala Lumpur. But just a couple days later, everything changed. My desire to write was completely zapped these past months and I certainly don’t have exciting photos to share (I haven’t even picked up my camera in months), but in the face of new uncertainties, another round of upcoming displacement, and intensely challenging times all around the world, the itch to organize my thoughts returned. 

The day after our race, I went back to Cambodia thinking I had about 2 – 3 weeks to wrap up my life there. After two and a half years of calling Phnom Penh home, I was lucky to make some amazing friends and I was looking forward to celebrating thoroughly with all of them. Leaving was bittersweet and I was seeking the emotional closure of properly saying goodbyes. Embarking on a new chapter would feel better having closed the previous one properly. 

Alas, this closure was not in the cards. I landed in Phnom Penh and that night, at 10pm, Malaysia announced a 24 hour notice before closing their borders for the foreseeable future. I had one shot to make it back to KL, at noon the next day, which left me sitting in my apartment in paralysis. If I decided to go, I would need to pack up the entire apartment that night, tie up a lot of loose ends, and wouldn’t get to say any goodbyes. If I decided not to, who knows how Phnom Penh was going to fare with the pandemic, what options I’d have if the healthcare system was overwhelmed, and for how long I could be stuck out of Malaysia. As much as I hated the idea of tearing down my life in Cambodia so quickly, I made the call to leave. It was a tough 12 hours, but I made it out of the apartment, said a rushed and teary goodbye to my amazing landlord, and arrived in Malaysia a few hours later. The next day, we went into a strict lockdown. No walking outside, almost everything but a few grocery stores shut. And with that, my new life had begun. 

Thankfully I could stay into my teammate’s house, as I didn’t have anywhere of my own yet and all housing pursuits were halted under the lockdown. Work never stopped being tremendously busy, and having nowhere to go and no one to see meant that workaholism became my lifeline. Time moved fast, but the feeling of being trapped in the house, especially a place that wasn’t my space, caught up with me more than a couple times. Working out, a staple in normal life and very closely linked to all forms of my well-being, suddenly felt constrained to squats, pushups, and burpees which lost their appeal before I even started. Days turned into weeks, which turned into months. Spending my days on the phone with my team kept me motivated and transported me away from the reality of spending a scary amount of time in a single 3×3 meter square of the living room. Staying in close touch with a few select loved ones helped me feel less alone. And trying to focus on all the ways I was lucky, during such a tough time for so many people, kept me grateful. But all that aside, some days I just longed to go outdoors, or to be in a place that was home, or for that day when I might be able to hug someone again.

The last couple weeks we experienced some new freedoms, like being able to go running again and even see a few teammates also here in KL. Every small change felt like it required a disproportionate amount of emotional energy, but overall life here had become stable. And then a new hiccup presented itself. Visa issues will likely require us to leave KL by the end of the month, exposing some big questions of where to go, when we can return, and what to do with important work equipment here. Being at the mercy of a situation that is very much out of my control has resulted in helplessness and anxiety, but there’s nothing much to do but wait.

And now, as my home country has erupted in fights for justice and outrage over extreme conflict and brutality, yet I am removed and trapped in my own uncertainties, I find myself feeling guilty for not contributing more and overwhelmingly proud of the people I know doing so much. Every conversation being had, call to action, donation, and act of compassion strengthens my love and connection to communities I had begun to feel distant from. So many privileges have been on my mind these past months, especially the ability to still work every day on my absolute passion, knowing that I have a roof over my head, food to eat, and a salary to count on. I am out here because I am working for large-scale change in a different arena, but choosing to be here is laced with countless privileges on its own. And now, even when my mind is churning in the middle of the night, trying to calculate the least bad option of what to do if I have to leave, I still have personal safety and at least 2 choices, which is more than so many right now.

Who knows what the next phase of this year will bring, but in the days that feel alright through the days that feel overwhelming or empty, I’m thankful for everyone who hasn’t given up and is still working tirelessly to make the world a better place. I’m still longing for that hug, to laugh with loved ones in person, and make myself a home, but until then, I’ll be working hard, watching and listening closely, supporting as I can, and doing my best to never lose hope.

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As I mentioned, I don’t have any new photos and my camera is gathering a bit of dust. But my cover photo is actually one of the first photos I ever took on this camera, 4 years ago, soon after I graduated college and right before I set off on my adventures. It’s from some amazingly beautiful trails near my hometown of Seattle, in Snoqualmie.