I was prepared to leave my husband and children for a while, in order to gain a career, a pension, and a paycheck that we could actually grow to count on. But I wasn't prepared for COVID-19. Nobody was. I started paying attention in January, when only some of the world was listening. I credit movies like "Outbreak" and "The Rock" for giving me an early interest in virology and epidemiology; however, it's kind of unfortunate as well. I understood rather early what might be coming. So did my husband. We decided to see each other as soon as possible, knowing it might be a very long time in between visits. They visited me in D.C. in February, only four weeks after I left them in Budapest. We'd planned to celebrate Easter in San Jose together to celebrate my oldest son's thirteenth birthday, but we were scared of buying tickets with numbers rising steadily like they were. A couple of days before we were going to decide, the travel ban went into place; and, thus, I haven't seen my sons or my husband in over four months.
It's hard to say--to admit--what a physical and emotional distance four months' absence can put on a family. I watched, in near jealousy, other FS families go on Authorized Departure really early on in this pandemic (those affected, please excuse me). I saw a dear friend reunited with her family after months apart, and I wanted it to be me. But my husband and I decided that risking exposure to him and the kids during travel just wasn't worth it--as well as leaving our entire household behind in a game of "who knows when we'll see it again." We chose the safer option, and we don't regret it. But I do regret the distance. We all do.
Word came about two weeks ago that travel to the States from Hungary was opening up, and my husband decided it was time to jump. I was in total agreement, because who knows when Europe will allow travel to the United States again, with numbers rising as they are? And, judging by today's numbers and the international news, I'm glad my husband acted when he did. They could have been "stuck" for months! My guys boarded a plane a few days ago and returned to the States. I'll join them in a few days in the mountains. I'm on my ear to see my guys, but I have to finish out here in D.C. before I'm able to join them. It makes me think of the (probably) hundreds of separated FS families during this time. None of us can plan. None of us know when we'll be able to travel to see our loved ones again. No one knows if our children will get to physically go to school this coming year. No one knows anything.
And, personally, for my family, if I go to Post in a month--as planned--while my husband and children wait in the States for permission to go to their Post and COVID-19 continues to ravage the United States, my family operates on the probability that these four months apart might have been a cake walk compared to what's to come. And yet we serve. And we hope to be reunited as soon as we can. But we also know that we are just one of so many out there. To those in this predicament, thank you for your service. And may God bless the United States of America. Because we're going to need it.
Tuesday, June 23, 2020
Tuesday, April 21, 2020
La Cuarantena
In one hour, it will be 40 days since I went into a self-imposed social distancing/quarantine. It's 40 days since I hung out with my amazing friends, 40 days since I've had a life at all, so to speak of. I want to say that I entered into this absolutely willingly. I did not wait for the governor of Virginia to put me into lockdown. I did not wait for a Federal declaration. No, I waited for science, the World Health Organization, and the Centers for Disease Control to tell me it was time. I've always been interested in viruses and diseases. In fact, I blame "Outbreak" for my rudimentary interest in microbiology and virology for that. I saw the writing on the wall in January/February. My husband and children came to visit me on Valentine's Day, but we knew our time was limited. We'd planned early on to meet at my first post in San Jose, Costa Rica; however, we knew well in advance that it wasn't feasible with COVID-19's plans. We waited as long as we could to buy plane tickets and then decided it was useless. The writing was on the wall in February, and we just got lucky.
Look, I am not here to judge; and I am not here to dictate. But I am a semi-intelligent and learned woman. And I can decipher what they're saying on the various news stations. As a career, I've chosen to try (my best) to be as apolitical as possible as a requirement for my lifestyle. I don't want to preach. I truly don't. I want to live in a world where people are free to do whatever it is they want to do. But, right now, we need to stay the hell home. Those who are calling the shots right now are calling for us to reopen--full stop--in order to prevent our economy from collapsing. I understand where they're coming from. I do. But I also know that our economy is already collapsing. In fact, it's already collapsed. History has already shown us how this will play out. The second wave is waiting in the wings for us to let our guard down and re-open. Tennessee and Georgia will see this come to pass two weeks from Friday, when they re-open.
Our people need to realize and recognize that the whole world is changing. The whole world will change in the next few weeks. There is no way to way to circumvent this. COVID-19 has seen to that.
My closing thought/point I want to get across is this: If everyone else had realized 40 days ago that all we had to do to change the outcome of the entire world was just to stay home, our world would be an entirely different place.
From a personal viewpoint: Stay TF home. Because if you don't, the world will never be safe enough for me to hold my husband and children again.
Look, I am not here to judge; and I am not here to dictate. But I am a semi-intelligent and learned woman. And I can decipher what they're saying on the various news stations. As a career, I've chosen to try (my best) to be as apolitical as possible as a requirement for my lifestyle. I don't want to preach. I truly don't. I want to live in a world where people are free to do whatever it is they want to do. But, right now, we need to stay the hell home. Those who are calling the shots right now are calling for us to reopen--full stop--in order to prevent our economy from collapsing. I understand where they're coming from. I do. But I also know that our economy is already collapsing. In fact, it's already collapsed. History has already shown us how this will play out. The second wave is waiting in the wings for us to let our guard down and re-open. Tennessee and Georgia will see this come to pass two weeks from Friday, when they re-open.
Our people need to realize and recognize that the whole world is changing. The whole world will change in the next few weeks. There is no way to way to circumvent this. COVID-19 has seen to that.
My closing thought/point I want to get across is this: If everyone else had realized 40 days ago that all we had to do to change the outcome of the entire world was just to stay home, our world would be an entirely different place.
From a personal viewpoint: Stay TF home. Because if you don't, the world will never be safe enough for me to hold my husband and children again.
Sunday, April 19, 2020
Lamentations on COVID-19
I think the hardest thing about being in quarantine/implementing social distancing is the fact that I am a hands-on person. I don't mean that in a creepy way, to be clear. But I am hand shaker, a hugger, a shoulder tapper, and a face-to-face kind of person.
I want to be clear and say that it could be so much worse for me right now (knock on wood). I am still earning a paycheck. I am living in an apartment that is paid for. I have more than enough food to survive. I have made dear friends here who check on me every day (in a socially distant way of course). My mother, my husband, and my in-laws check in with me daily, as do my amazing children. But I miss "touching" people. There's no way to say/write that without it not being creepy, is there?
I miss hugs and pats and even European-style cheek kisses among friends, which I always seemed to do backwards, and which made it awkward. I haven't touched another human being in 37 days, and then it was only a shoulder touching a shoulder during a drive. To be honest, it's been over 40 days; because, by the end of FACT training, no one was sitting near anyone else.
Now, hugging my husband and children is another matter. I last kissed and hugged my husband and children 57 days ago. I missed my first born's 13th birthday today, which is just a cruel "f*ck you" from Mother Nature, as far as I am concerned. The long and short of it is, my family is going to be fine. My children are a Foreign Service poster child(ren) for "resilience." My marriage is stronger than ever. But my tactile sense of self is so, so lonely in all of this. I feel like Southern women around the world are seriously suffering from COVID-19's societal requirements right now. We are not okay.
I only give thanks that my husband brought my little dog to me when I last saw my family. I don't know what I would do without having her to hold. That said, I am starting to feel like Lennny in "Of Mice and Men," when I hold her. I just keep telling myself not to squeeze her too hard.
I want to be clear and say that it could be so much worse for me right now (knock on wood). I am still earning a paycheck. I am living in an apartment that is paid for. I have more than enough food to survive. I have made dear friends here who check on me every day (in a socially distant way of course). My mother, my husband, and my in-laws check in with me daily, as do my amazing children. But I miss "touching" people. There's no way to say/write that without it not being creepy, is there?
I miss hugs and pats and even European-style cheek kisses among friends, which I always seemed to do backwards, and which made it awkward. I haven't touched another human being in 37 days, and then it was only a shoulder touching a shoulder during a drive. To be honest, it's been over 40 days; because, by the end of FACT training, no one was sitting near anyone else.
Now, hugging my husband and children is another matter. I last kissed and hugged my husband and children 57 days ago. I missed my first born's 13th birthday today, which is just a cruel "f*ck you" from Mother Nature, as far as I am concerned. The long and short of it is, my family is going to be fine. My children are a Foreign Service poster child(ren) for "resilience." My marriage is stronger than ever. But my tactile sense of self is so, so lonely in all of this. I feel like Southern women around the world are seriously suffering from COVID-19's societal requirements right now. We are not okay.
I only give thanks that my husband brought my little dog to me when I last saw my family. I don't know what I would do without having her to hold. That said, I am starting to feel like Lennny in "Of Mice and Men," when I hold her. I just keep telling myself not to squeeze her too hard.
Saturday, April 11, 2020
It's The End of the World As We Know It
It’s already Easter in Budapest, and it’s now 50 days since I have seen my husband and children. We were supposed to be together in San Jose to celebrate Good Friday and the rest of Spring Break, but a global pandemic had its own agenda. I keep reliving my decisions and alternating between regret and grief. If I had deferred my entry into the Foreign Service, I would still be in Budapest with my husband and children, a choice and a consequence that I battle with every single day lately. Leaving my family was not something I ever wanted to do. I never wanted to spend a moment without any of them. The choice to leave was not one of convenience or fun or even ambition, to be honest. I made the decision with my family, to try and better our circumstances and our future. We knew going in that there was a chance--even a probability--that we would not be posted together at first. But the fact that our family could benefit from two full-time salaries and, eventually, two government pensions was a big carrot. Also, the fact that my entire adult, professional life has been based upon my spouse’s position (and whether or not there were jobs available at Post) was something that grated on all of us. We were all suffering from hiring freezes, years without open positions for me, and waiting for the day when I wouldn’t just be the “trailing spouse.” But no one could have imagined where we’d find ourselves just three months later.
The world has changed forever due to COVID-19. My children are learning by wi-fi. My husband is spending nearly every waking hour as father and mother, teacher, diplomat, and friend in a huge, empty house on a hill an ocean away from me. I spend my days completing online classes and alternating between exercise, wine, and fear. We have no idea when we will see each other again. We have no idea how long it will be until this will end. We wonder. We regret (or maybe it’s just me). We keep in touch via video chat, which I am so, so grateful for. I wonder if we’ll ever be the same again once this is over, and I hope my kids won’t hold it against me.
I haven’t touched another human in thirty days, at least (the last I remember is touching shoulders with a colleague on the bus during our FACT training week). I haven’t hugged or kissed a person in fifty days. And I don’t know when I will again. My job is such that I am stuck here in Arlington, the next COVID-19 hotspot according to CDC projections. My only goal at this moment is to stay healthy and to stay alive so that I can hold my husband and my children again one day--no matter how long it takes. I will do the time, and so will they.
Monday, May 13, 2019
Spicing Up The Foreign Service Lifestyle
So nobody likes to feel like they've done everything they set out to do. There's an immediate sense of accomplishment and gratification when you realize you've kind of "done it"--sure--; but there's also a sense of loss, a sense of need, and a sense of dread that this might be all there is. About a year ago, I found myself feeling that way. I felt like I'd done the whole "trailing spouse" thing. I'd enjoyed every job I'd had, every section I'd worked in, and (nearly) every person I've met along the way. But after two years of not working--the first was because of a decision I consciously made, and the other was due to the government hiring freeze--I felt lost. I am someone who loves working for the State Department. I love being a part of our mission abroad, a part of my Embassy community. I've made a career out of being a trailing spouse, or, an "Eligible Family Member," if one wants to be more politically correct. My adult life has consisted of moving around the world, following my husband from Permanent Change of Station to Permanent Change of Station to training and back again. Each and every single curve in his career path has meant a complete professional 180 for me. Now, I thought that just being able to serve and to work on a limited basis (according to need and availability at Post) was going to be enough to sustain my professional ambitions; however, I realized about a year ago that that was just not going to be enough for me. So I decided to apply to work for the State Department as an Office Management Specialist (OMS) last March.
The application process for the OMS track isn't as involved and complex as the interview process to be a Foreign Service Officer, but it's not a cake walk either. It took me days and days to get my resume together, my personal stories for questions asked, my personal and professional references together, and several international phone calls to Thibodaux, Louisiana, to get a copy of my college transcripts in time to make the cutoff date for the application process. And then, the wait began. I was notified a few weeks after the application process closed that my packet had been "referred" for further review. Four months later, in July, I got word that I had been invited to the Oral Assessment in Washington, D.C. It took still several more weeks before I was able to schedule my interview, which I scheduled for early January, as far ahead as I could possibly schedule it so I'd have plenty of time to prepare for the nearly day-long interview process. It also would give me a ton of time to act like an ostrich with my head in the sand, because I am terrified on interviews (and tend to turn purple during them from nerves).
Just like any other job interview, the applicant is expected to show up in person. Well, when a number of the applicants live thousands of miles away, it can get a little tricky and a lot expensive! Such was the case for my interview. I decided to get to D.C. on a Monday, four full days before my interview, so I could have time to both buy a killer suit and get over the jet lag from my six-hour time difference. I wanted everything to be perfect and easy and convenient to keep me from being so nervous. In my true fashion, I did all the prep work up front so I could live in the moment. I even made sure to find a hotel a few blocks away from the test/interview site so I wouldn't have to count on public transportation to be on time. I had it planned almost down to the minute. And then the government shut down due to a lapse in funding the Friday before I was set to leave on Monday. I decided to go D.C. no matter what, just in case the government should open. Well, it didn't. Between the plane (which I paid for using all 70,000 of our credit card points), the hotel, the (fast food) meals, and the killer power suit, the trip cost me about $1000 when I didn't know when we'd get paid again. Yowza, was that stressful. It wasn't even the money that I was worried about; I was devastated that I'd felt so prepared and ready to interview that I was sure that no matter the outcome, I knew I'd done my best. Obviously, I didn't end up having my interview. I did, however, keep the suit.
Here it is, May 2019. I applied for this job 14 months ago, and my interview is now next week in Chicago. I had to pay out of pocket this time for my plane ticket, and my hotel is over twice what the one in D.C. cost; however, it's literally across the street from the testing center. I could not be in a better location. I don't have the annual leave that I had in January; so I have to take Leave Without Pay in order to go the interview. That means I'm leaving Budapest on Tuesday and leaving Chicago on Friday. I get one day to deal with jet lag and to try to mentally prepare for the interview; and, then, I either pass the Oral Assessment or I don't. The one reassuring factor is that, because this process has taken so long, the OMS application process has opened again; and I was able to get a second candidacy in the works. That means, that in the event that I don't pass, I might get invited to a second Oral Assessment at a later date.
Now, what exactly is the Oral Assessment (OA)? Well, for the field I've chosen (Office Management Specialist), the OA is a nearly day-long process that assesses you on 12 different dimensions that the State Department is looking for in an OMS. It begins with a computer test that is partly made up of job-related questions and part writing exercise. Next, you sit in front of a subject matter expert (an actual OMS) and another person, whom I am guessing is from HR. They ask you situational questions that you might encounter as an OMS, and they try and see what your thought process is like (i.e., whether you make the right decisions at crunch time or not). From what I understand, these questions get harder and more intense as time goes on. They want to see how you react under duress, and if you can think on your feet. Next, they give you a list of a number of questions, of which you choose a certain number to answer. You have a total of five minutes to read and to prepare your responses once they hand you the list. The questions deal with past behavior, where you try to accentuate how effectively you've addressed the 12 dimensions they're looking for. At the end of everything, you get a score that's either passing or failing. If you pass, you're given a conditional offer of employment that's contingent upon several factors: a Microsoft Word Expert Level Certification within 30 days, a security clearance, medical clearance, and suitability clearance. Once those things are met, you get put on a list according to your score. The higher the score, the quicker you get called up for an orientation class. Some people who have lower scores might not get called at all. In other words, this process is very involved and just not easy. I may totally fudge this up. Or, I may not. The good news is, I can try again.
What will it mean if I somehow pass the OA and everything else I need and get invited to a class at some point? Well, it means a whole lot of change. The plus sides are: double housing space, State will pay to ship a second car for us, my own retirement and pension, a full-time, permanent career, no longer a trailing spouse, guaranteed income, and more respect. Oh, and I would truly get to serve my country in my own right, not contingent upon my spouse's job.
What are the down sides? Well, that's where it gets interesting. In the Foreign Service, the first two tours are what are called "directed assignments." You're given a list of open positions; and while you get to designate what your preferred positions are, you essentially get told where you're going. This happens twice, and each tour lasts two years. It's only once you are looking at your third tour that you get to lobby for the job you really want. Now what does all this mean when you have a spouse who is already bidding on his own assignments? Well, it can mean a lot of time apart and a lot of sacrifices for your country. It can mean not being with your children for long periods of time. It can mean your spouse taking a year of Leave Without Pay to try and sync up. It can mean going to extreme hardship posts that are willing to take a tandem couple. It can mean a whole lot of things.
Why would I do this? What would I take the chance of so much change? I've been asking myself the same thing for a while now, and I always come up with the same reason: Because I deserve this. I deserve to have my own career, my own path, and my own future--in tandem with my husband and my kids. My husband has told me time and again how close his family became when his mom decided to have a career of her own, how strong it made their unit to pick up slack in some places and let go of the slack in others. We've sort of "done" this lifestyle; maybe the future holds something a little more exciting for the four of us.
The only thing I know right now is that my interview is a week from Thursday. Everything else is on hold until then.
The application process for the OMS track isn't as involved and complex as the interview process to be a Foreign Service Officer, but it's not a cake walk either. It took me days and days to get my resume together, my personal stories for questions asked, my personal and professional references together, and several international phone calls to Thibodaux, Louisiana, to get a copy of my college transcripts in time to make the cutoff date for the application process. And then, the wait began. I was notified a few weeks after the application process closed that my packet had been "referred" for further review. Four months later, in July, I got word that I had been invited to the Oral Assessment in Washington, D.C. It took still several more weeks before I was able to schedule my interview, which I scheduled for early January, as far ahead as I could possibly schedule it so I'd have plenty of time to prepare for the nearly day-long interview process. It also would give me a ton of time to act like an ostrich with my head in the sand, because I am terrified on interviews (and tend to turn purple during them from nerves).
Just like any other job interview, the applicant is expected to show up in person. Well, when a number of the applicants live thousands of miles away, it can get a little tricky and a lot expensive! Such was the case for my interview. I decided to get to D.C. on a Monday, four full days before my interview, so I could have time to both buy a killer suit and get over the jet lag from my six-hour time difference. I wanted everything to be perfect and easy and convenient to keep me from being so nervous. In my true fashion, I did all the prep work up front so I could live in the moment. I even made sure to find a hotel a few blocks away from the test/interview site so I wouldn't have to count on public transportation to be on time. I had it planned almost down to the minute. And then the government shut down due to a lapse in funding the Friday before I was set to leave on Monday. I decided to go D.C. no matter what, just in case the government should open. Well, it didn't. Between the plane (which I paid for using all 70,000 of our credit card points), the hotel, the (fast food) meals, and the killer power suit, the trip cost me about $1000 when I didn't know when we'd get paid again. Yowza, was that stressful. It wasn't even the money that I was worried about; I was devastated that I'd felt so prepared and ready to interview that I was sure that no matter the outcome, I knew I'd done my best. Obviously, I didn't end up having my interview. I did, however, keep the suit.
Here it is, May 2019. I applied for this job 14 months ago, and my interview is now next week in Chicago. I had to pay out of pocket this time for my plane ticket, and my hotel is over twice what the one in D.C. cost; however, it's literally across the street from the testing center. I could not be in a better location. I don't have the annual leave that I had in January; so I have to take Leave Without Pay in order to go the interview. That means I'm leaving Budapest on Tuesday and leaving Chicago on Friday. I get one day to deal with jet lag and to try to mentally prepare for the interview; and, then, I either pass the Oral Assessment or I don't. The one reassuring factor is that, because this process has taken so long, the OMS application process has opened again; and I was able to get a second candidacy in the works. That means, that in the event that I don't pass, I might get invited to a second Oral Assessment at a later date.
Now, what exactly is the Oral Assessment (OA)? Well, for the field I've chosen (Office Management Specialist), the OA is a nearly day-long process that assesses you on 12 different dimensions that the State Department is looking for in an OMS. It begins with a computer test that is partly made up of job-related questions and part writing exercise. Next, you sit in front of a subject matter expert (an actual OMS) and another person, whom I am guessing is from HR. They ask you situational questions that you might encounter as an OMS, and they try and see what your thought process is like (i.e., whether you make the right decisions at crunch time or not). From what I understand, these questions get harder and more intense as time goes on. They want to see how you react under duress, and if you can think on your feet. Next, they give you a list of a number of questions, of which you choose a certain number to answer. You have a total of five minutes to read and to prepare your responses once they hand you the list. The questions deal with past behavior, where you try to accentuate how effectively you've addressed the 12 dimensions they're looking for. At the end of everything, you get a score that's either passing or failing. If you pass, you're given a conditional offer of employment that's contingent upon several factors: a Microsoft Word Expert Level Certification within 30 days, a security clearance, medical clearance, and suitability clearance. Once those things are met, you get put on a list according to your score. The higher the score, the quicker you get called up for an orientation class. Some people who have lower scores might not get called at all. In other words, this process is very involved and just not easy. I may totally fudge this up. Or, I may not. The good news is, I can try again.
What will it mean if I somehow pass the OA and everything else I need and get invited to a class at some point? Well, it means a whole lot of change. The plus sides are: double housing space, State will pay to ship a second car for us, my own retirement and pension, a full-time, permanent career, no longer a trailing spouse, guaranteed income, and more respect. Oh, and I would truly get to serve my country in my own right, not contingent upon my spouse's job.
What are the down sides? Well, that's where it gets interesting. In the Foreign Service, the first two tours are what are called "directed assignments." You're given a list of open positions; and while you get to designate what your preferred positions are, you essentially get told where you're going. This happens twice, and each tour lasts two years. It's only once you are looking at your third tour that you get to lobby for the job you really want. Now what does all this mean when you have a spouse who is already bidding on his own assignments? Well, it can mean a lot of time apart and a lot of sacrifices for your country. It can mean not being with your children for long periods of time. It can mean your spouse taking a year of Leave Without Pay to try and sync up. It can mean going to extreme hardship posts that are willing to take a tandem couple. It can mean a whole lot of things.
Why would I do this? What would I take the chance of so much change? I've been asking myself the same thing for a while now, and I always come up with the same reason: Because I deserve this. I deserve to have my own career, my own path, and my own future--in tandem with my husband and my kids. My husband has told me time and again how close his family became when his mom decided to have a career of her own, how strong it made their unit to pick up slack in some places and let go of the slack in others. We've sort of "done" this lifestyle; maybe the future holds something a little more exciting for the four of us.
The only thing I know right now is that my interview is a week from Thursday. Everything else is on hold until then.
Friday, October 12, 2018
Death in the Foreign Service
I've written before about dealing with death in the Foreign Service, and here I am again. It never gets easier. In fact, given my age and the age of those I love, I can only guess that it will get much worse with time. Today, I'm grieving the death of a man I loved more than life, once upon a time. Don't get me wrong. The love I had for him was never sexual or romantic. My love for him was a completely platonic, but special love that many men and women would never understand; because most men and women can't be just friends. See, I was raised with brothers and sisters that I loved but never knew or understood. I'd never in my life imagined that I could identify with and get to know someone the way I did the man we all called "Bird."
Bird came into my life when I was broken. For the most part, I'd broken myself; however, lots of people close to me had had a hand in it. I'd finally made friends of my own, the first ones I'd ever had that I never had to compete with or worry about. They were a leftover from a heart-wrenching breakup, but I took what I could get after that. They'd been "his" friends that I adopted when he had to leave town for family reasons. I finally had my first two girlfriends (female, not lesbian); and I didn't know how to handle that. I'd grown up in a competitive family and school atmosphere where certain friendships meant status; and I'd always been a complete failure when it came to those. My two new girlfriends, C&S (I don't have their permission to use their names) made sure to tell me how effed up my understanding of what friendships consisted of were, and I relished in the honesty. I pushed myself into becoming a true ally and friend, no matter what. C went into Basic Training just before 9/11, and I missed her desperately. S decided to break away from her family's money and status and make a go on her own. She was my only true friend for a long time, and I was jealous of anyone who got in the way of that.
One weekend, she went away to visit old friends. She came back with Bird. From what I remember (and don't trust my memory because it's always faulty), they'd known each other in the past and had mutual friends. They met up on the road trip and had connected. After that, they were inseparable. I remember meeting him and looking only for flaws. What did he want from her? Why S? Why now? What did he hope to gain? When (not if) would he break her heart? I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop while I watched my only friend fall head over heels. I went out with them as the third wheel, and they visited me at my house, just to check in on me. S was always worried about how I was doing. Was I going to class? Was I taking care of myself? Etc. And she always had Bird in tow. His joyfulness was disarming, considering how weary I was in her stead. My ex returned to the area and met Bird, liking him immediately. Who wouldn't, I realize now. He brought joy, understanding, laughter, and a judgment-free atmosphere everywhere he went. It was some time--months later--that S and Bird were in my apartment (a disgusting hovel that I never kept clean) and we were all drinking A LOT. We were playing cards and board games and having so much fun when I finally had enough. I looked Bird in the eye and said, "I can't take it anymore. I've tried and tried to hate you; but I just don't. I like you. There, I said it." And Bird, being the man he was, tipped his head back and guffawed long and loud. Then he leveled up, looked me in the eye, and said, "I knew you'd come around."
From that second on, for the next six years or so, I had a brother, father, and friend. Bird saw me through joy, failure, mistakes, happiness, grief, sadness, despair, truth, etc. He always gave it to me straight. He married my best friend, and I was thrilled for them both. I'd had friends before, but never absolute truth; and I don't know that I will ever get that again. I don't know that many men (outside of Bird and my husband) can be that way.
So here I am 12 years later, and you're probably asking yourself why I'm writing this. I'm trying to make heads or tails of that myself. First, let me say that without Bird, I 100% would not be sitting where I am today and writing this. Why? Because he showed me the status quo. He showed me that a strong man can be a feminist. He taught me that it was ok to question politics. He taught me that I should always be honest with people, regardless of the outcome. In short, he was the great man in my life when I didn't have one. I remember screwing up and worrying about disappointing Bird when I had to own up to what I'd done. It's not like I was going to be in trouble; I just didn't want to let the man in my life down. I could go on and on, but the truth is, Bird gave me perspective. He gave me confidence when I had none. I was able to have a man in my life who wasn't my brother or father and not have to worry about getting hit on. Those men don't come around every day.
Fast forward twelve years later. I parted ways with S and Bird--not out of malice but out of the normal flow of life--and hadn't seen him in several years. To be clear, I never stopped loving or respecting him. He and S got married and had children and lived their lives for years and years. Bird died last week from a heart attack. He wasn't even 40 years old. I missed him everyday from the time we lost touch and I feel guilty for even grieving him now. He is the reason I searched for a feminist man. He's the reason I demanded and sought truth in my relationships. He was the model for the man I eventually found. Bird, you changed me. You molded me. You are so much more responsible for the way I turned out than you ever realized. My God, you saved me. You did. 100%. Thank you. I will miss you forever, and I will pray for your wife and children. Thank you.
Bird came into my life when I was broken. For the most part, I'd broken myself; however, lots of people close to me had had a hand in it. I'd finally made friends of my own, the first ones I'd ever had that I never had to compete with or worry about. They were a leftover from a heart-wrenching breakup, but I took what I could get after that. They'd been "his" friends that I adopted when he had to leave town for family reasons. I finally had my first two girlfriends (female, not lesbian); and I didn't know how to handle that. I'd grown up in a competitive family and school atmosphere where certain friendships meant status; and I'd always been a complete failure when it came to those. My two new girlfriends, C&S (I don't have their permission to use their names) made sure to tell me how effed up my understanding of what friendships consisted of were, and I relished in the honesty. I pushed myself into becoming a true ally and friend, no matter what. C went into Basic Training just before 9/11, and I missed her desperately. S decided to break away from her family's money and status and make a go on her own. She was my only true friend for a long time, and I was jealous of anyone who got in the way of that.
One weekend, she went away to visit old friends. She came back with Bird. From what I remember (and don't trust my memory because it's always faulty), they'd known each other in the past and had mutual friends. They met up on the road trip and had connected. After that, they were inseparable. I remember meeting him and looking only for flaws. What did he want from her? Why S? Why now? What did he hope to gain? When (not if) would he break her heart? I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop while I watched my only friend fall head over heels. I went out with them as the third wheel, and they visited me at my house, just to check in on me. S was always worried about how I was doing. Was I going to class? Was I taking care of myself? Etc. And she always had Bird in tow. His joyfulness was disarming, considering how weary I was in her stead. My ex returned to the area and met Bird, liking him immediately. Who wouldn't, I realize now. He brought joy, understanding, laughter, and a judgment-free atmosphere everywhere he went. It was some time--months later--that S and Bird were in my apartment (a disgusting hovel that I never kept clean) and we were all drinking A LOT. We were playing cards and board games and having so much fun when I finally had enough. I looked Bird in the eye and said, "I can't take it anymore. I've tried and tried to hate you; but I just don't. I like you. There, I said it." And Bird, being the man he was, tipped his head back and guffawed long and loud. Then he leveled up, looked me in the eye, and said, "I knew you'd come around."
From that second on, for the next six years or so, I had a brother, father, and friend. Bird saw me through joy, failure, mistakes, happiness, grief, sadness, despair, truth, etc. He always gave it to me straight. He married my best friend, and I was thrilled for them both. I'd had friends before, but never absolute truth; and I don't know that I will ever get that again. I don't know that many men (outside of Bird and my husband) can be that way.
So here I am 12 years later, and you're probably asking yourself why I'm writing this. I'm trying to make heads or tails of that myself. First, let me say that without Bird, I 100% would not be sitting where I am today and writing this. Why? Because he showed me the status quo. He showed me that a strong man can be a feminist. He taught me that it was ok to question politics. He taught me that I should always be honest with people, regardless of the outcome. In short, he was the great man in my life when I didn't have one. I remember screwing up and worrying about disappointing Bird when I had to own up to what I'd done. It's not like I was going to be in trouble; I just didn't want to let the man in my life down. I could go on and on, but the truth is, Bird gave me perspective. He gave me confidence when I had none. I was able to have a man in my life who wasn't my brother or father and not have to worry about getting hit on. Those men don't come around every day.
Fast forward twelve years later. I parted ways with S and Bird--not out of malice but out of the normal flow of life--and hadn't seen him in several years. To be clear, I never stopped loving or respecting him. He and S got married and had children and lived their lives for years and years. Bird died last week from a heart attack. He wasn't even 40 years old. I missed him everyday from the time we lost touch and I feel guilty for even grieving him now. He is the reason I searched for a feminist man. He's the reason I demanded and sought truth in my relationships. He was the model for the man I eventually found. Bird, you changed me. You molded me. You are so much more responsible for the way I turned out than you ever realized. My God, you saved me. You did. 100%. Thank you. I will miss you forever, and I will pray for your wife and children. Thank you.
Thursday, January 11, 2018
Reflections on Another FS Christmas
I just took the time to go back and read my post about celebrating Christmas while in the Foreign Service. I realize how sad and removed it sounded, and I want to acknowledge that here. I was sad and a bit numb/depressed when I wrote it; however, I did mean what I said. Celebrating things like Christmas or Easter (or other religious and cultural holidays that I don't personally celebrate) can be extremely tough when you're away from everyone you know. I know it can be for me. I often think about my childhood in Louisiana when Easter and Christmas come around, and I remember the gifts and the crawfish boils and the Easter egg hunts with aunts and uncles and cousins I never see anymore. Those are all things that are hard to deal with. This year, the winter blues got me really down for a few weeks. I didn't get a lot of holiday preparation done that I should have because I was dealing with my own demons (like only 8 hours of daylight in Budapest in December); and I let a lot of things slide. And, honestly, I didn't think that I'd have to deal with as many mail issues in Budapest as we had in Tirana. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I was absolutely wrong. Things we ordered for Black Friday that we knew wouldn't/couldn't arrive to Post in time for Christmas still have not arrived. Americans, do not take your Prime shipping for granted EVER again.
All of that said, I wanted to talk about my little family's Christmas this year. Our boys know the secret; so there were so many fewer stressors this year as parents. That helped more than I can ever say. While I know my husband and I (and the kids) will always miss the magic of Christmas, it was just...so much easier on my husband and I this Christmas. And for that I am truly, truly grateful.
I am sure that I am not alone in always looking at the final Christmas tally for each kid and thinking that we just didn't get them enough or that the stacks look small or that we should add more fillers. Well, the truth is, I am always wrong about that. And this year was awesome because the jolly old fat man didn't get the credit; WE DID! Our kids opened their big gifts on Christmas Eve this year rather than on Christmas Day. And, folks, that's where the magic happened. See, traditionally, (meaning in my family when I was growing up) we opened the gifts from the parents in the late evening, after dinner on Christmas Eve. Santa came that night, and we opened his gifts on Christmas Day. Well, our boys begged us to be able to open our gifts on Christmas Eve morning. And do you know what the absolute best part of being a parent is? You get to break the rules any freaking time you want! And you get to be a hero to your kids by breaking with an archaic tradition and letting your little piece of the world do exactly as it wants to do. It was magic. They woke us up insanely early (but with cups of coffee!) and they dove into their really big gifts. We saw magic happen and heard screams of joy because they knew that WE had bought and planned and wrapped just for them. They played all day long. They built Legos and took pictures and thanked us profusely all day. We felt like heros. And you know what? They didn't give a damn that their Amazon Echos didn't make it (and still are not here in mid-Janurary because 17 pouch bags got rerouted in error). They don't care. They knew that it was just the four of us this Christmas. They knew this was a "lean" year because I haven't been able to work in a year and a half. They knew the stacks would be smaller. They knew they were going to open some pictures rather than gifts. And you know what? They knew all of that and we all still had the best Christmas we've ever had together.
In this lifestyle that many of us have chosen, we knew going in to it that serving our country was going to be taxing in ways that we'd never understand at first. We knew there would be road bumps. We knew it would be hard sometimes and perfect others. And we all chose to do it anyway. That said, our kids didn't choose this. Knowing and realizing that can make us (as parents) a little sensitive and a lot worried at times. But when you have amazing little people in your lives, you come to realize that the more "imperfect" it seems to be, the more perfect it truly is. And the truth is, your kids don't care if they have the perfect Christmas. They just want you to help them put their Legos together.
All of that said, I wanted to talk about my little family's Christmas this year. Our boys know the secret; so there were so many fewer stressors this year as parents. That helped more than I can ever say. While I know my husband and I (and the kids) will always miss the magic of Christmas, it was just...so much easier on my husband and I this Christmas. And for that I am truly, truly grateful.
I am sure that I am not alone in always looking at the final Christmas tally for each kid and thinking that we just didn't get them enough or that the stacks look small or that we should add more fillers. Well, the truth is, I am always wrong about that. And this year was awesome because the jolly old fat man didn't get the credit; WE DID! Our kids opened their big gifts on Christmas Eve this year rather than on Christmas Day. And, folks, that's where the magic happened. See, traditionally, (meaning in my family when I was growing up) we opened the gifts from the parents in the late evening, after dinner on Christmas Eve. Santa came that night, and we opened his gifts on Christmas Day. Well, our boys begged us to be able to open our gifts on Christmas Eve morning. And do you know what the absolute best part of being a parent is? You get to break the rules any freaking time you want! And you get to be a hero to your kids by breaking with an archaic tradition and letting your little piece of the world do exactly as it wants to do. It was magic. They woke us up insanely early (but with cups of coffee!) and they dove into their really big gifts. We saw magic happen and heard screams of joy because they knew that WE had bought and planned and wrapped just for them. They played all day long. They built Legos and took pictures and thanked us profusely all day. We felt like heros. And you know what? They didn't give a damn that their Amazon Echos didn't make it (and still are not here in mid-Janurary because 17 pouch bags got rerouted in error). They don't care. They knew that it was just the four of us this Christmas. They knew this was a "lean" year because I haven't been able to work in a year and a half. They knew the stacks would be smaller. They knew they were going to open some pictures rather than gifts. And you know what? They knew all of that and we all still had the best Christmas we've ever had together.
In this lifestyle that many of us have chosen, we knew going in to it that serving our country was going to be taxing in ways that we'd never understand at first. We knew there would be road bumps. We knew it would be hard sometimes and perfect others. And we all chose to do it anyway. That said, our kids didn't choose this. Knowing and realizing that can make us (as parents) a little sensitive and a lot worried at times. But when you have amazing little people in your lives, you come to realize that the more "imperfect" it seems to be, the more perfect it truly is. And the truth is, your kids don't care if they have the perfect Christmas. They just want you to help them put their Legos together.
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