Countdown to Christmas in Cambodia

I just walked home to my Phnom Penh apartment from Banh Mi Bros, where I ate a late lunch (after I got hangry and cried in the workspace) and tried to catch up on my to do list for work (somewhat successfully).

It’s a short walk — about 3 blocks — but it also entails crossing a major intersection and staying alert to all the forms of traffic and vendors filling the streets.

I stood briefly at the corner, taking in the brilliant sunset forming above the buildings and beneath the clouds, hand wrapped around my purse straps and elbow pressing the bag (laptop in tow) against my waist.

Then I began the water dance walk (as I call it in my head) of moving through traffic in SE Asia. It seems terrifying and chaotic at first glance, but if you see the pedestrians, motos, tuktuks, carts, cars, and trucks as particles moving through any available crevice, it begins to make sense.

Traffic rarely stops, just ebbs and flows, like an oozing fluid, and crossing the street works like pulling a stick across a stream: the water continues to run downstream around the stick.

So I set off at my steady pace, looking side to side, still constantly checking for any stray motorists and potential purse-snatching threats, and continued home. Though I’m paying attention, part of my brain is able to resume its exhaustive dedication to overthinking, which typically takes the form of writing.

This piece that I’m typing now started composing itself first in my head, imaginary black letters appearing on an imaginary white screen, spoken by my subconscious as it put my feelings and ideas into words.

Unfortunately for me, most of the words vanish like disappearing ink, but snippets of phrases or strong sentiments sometimes linger and resurface for my fingers to punch into a real keyboard on a real screen.

As I crossed those streets, eyeing cheap Christmas decorations in one store front and the dingy noodle carts ready to serve evening meals, I thought about the past few hours:

…attempting to have a productive day at work, emailing my therapist about my feelings of rejection and frustration, talking to a friend about it in hushed whispers in a room of working remotes, which turned into me softly crying into my hands as he patted my shaking shoulders…

My mom and stepdad are coming to visit for Christmas.

I’ve been begging them all year, telling them how important it is that I have someone close to me witness this crazy Remote Year experience firsthand. I want someone who knows every other chapter of my life to see this one, to meet these people, to understand on any level what this year has been like.

They are the only two people who have been present firsthand for every other chapter and significant event since I left for college: my NCAA championships, working in NYC, graduation, teaching in Morocco and Bulgaria, moving to Austin, living in Brooklyn, traveling and working remotely.

My mom and I even did yoga teacher training in India together, so my first time in Asia was with her as we took on a new adventure together.

Every time I’ve wanted to do something new and different (which is most of the time), I think of my mom first. I consider how I’ll pitch it to her and whether she’ll understand it and support me.

Like many mothers, she always does. That unconditional love buys a lot of wiggle room for acceptance, thankfully.

But it’s more than that.

Earlier this week, I was having a (text message) conversation that felt like a mixture of slamming my face into the wall and having someone stab me in the back (you know, not to be dramatic or anything), and I texted my mom and stepdad in a flurry of frustration (try to stretch your imagination for that).

This was part of their / her response to me:

In our current society, everyone is a cow in a herd, following and copying the same pattern, “this is the ‘right’ life for everyone: go to this school, wear this outfit, these earrings!, go to this college, get this job…”

Diversity is important in life. It allows different choices and paths. Embrace individuality. Be an entrepreneur. Creativity grows in these environments.

I never felt like I was like everyone else and I didn’t know how to embrace that and that it was ok to be different. I have always tried to conform to fit in because I thought I had to in order to be successful.

It wasn’t true. Successful living comes in all shapes and sizes.

Be you. Be happy being you.

It’s amazing, the power of even one person understanding and believing in you.

How have I lived around the world and done so many different things? How can I stay on the road for years at a time and so far from home (to the degree that I have one)?

It’s hard. It’s frustrating. It’s lonely (like, really lonely). It’s scary, sometimes.

It probably wouldn’t be possible if I didn’t have someone so full of love and understanding encouraging me when I lose my step or my faith in myself and my unpaved path. Someone willing to cross the world to be next to me when I need it most, so that I can keep living the life I want.

For several days, friends have asked if I’m excited that my parents were coming for Christmas, and I’ve shrugged and said I’ve been busy planning their trip and trying to take care of my many projects (paid work and otherwise).

But the honest truth that I didn’t realize today until I was crying is that I haven’t really let their visit be real until the last moment because I simply can’t afford to let down all my walls and cease all the effort my lifestyle requires until I am safe in their support.

For the first time since January 30th, when they dropped me off at the airport to fly to Montevideo, I’m going to have momentary breaks from the constant effort that maintaining new relationships requires, the constant concerns about how I’m impacting and being perceived by others, the constant need for affection and affirmation in a sea of confusing dynamics and unknown motivations.

I took two trips away from my group this year, one to Morocco and the other to Hong Kong. While those gave me with some distance from the RY experience, they provided little lasting relief as I had to be even stronger and more independent when traveling alone. (Also, I was depressed, so, you know, not the most fun vacations I’ve ever had.)

Last year, after 4 months in Asia (the last 6 weeks spent traveling alone in Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, and Malaysia), my mom and stepdad met me during a 1-hour layover at the DFW airport to trade out some of my clothes.

I absolutely lost it in a way I never have before when I walked out to the curb and got to give my mom a hug. She went in for my standard friendly-level hug hello and instead got a weeping octopus weighed down with bags and oh-so-fresh from 18 hours of travel. I didn’t let go (or stop crying) for many minutes. (It was probably one of her favorite moments of motherhood.)

This time, I’ve been away for 11 months, met 100+ new people, and visited 15 countries. Mom: you’ve been warned.

Safe travels, y’all. I can’t wait to see you soon ❤

Katherine is a digital nomad, working remotely while she travels the world — on the road since June 2014. She’s a member of Remote Year 2 Battuta, living around the world with 75 other digital nomads from February 2016 to January 2017.