Thank you for being a friend…

This is for Barbara. For Lowenna. For Tara. For Lucy. For Marja. For Matti. For Terri. For Michelle. For Carmen. For the other Tara. For Bianca. For Dankielson. For Paul. For Sophie. For Natalie. For Julia. For Rosa. For Paula. For Nicole. For Jo Lee. For Tom. For Anastasia. For Robin. For Jane & Caroline & Donna & Perveen & Sue & Kate.

For so many more along this journey that I haven’t mentioned here but it in no way diminishes their impact.

So, this is the blog I had no idea I would be writing just two weeks ago.

Two weeks ago I was the poster child for an expat living in Finland.

I’m working the hours I set out to achieve by December and I genuinely love my studios and my clients.

I’m being asked to deliver workshops for different studios (which is mind-boggling after just 11 months here!)

I’ve joined an a Capella choir (fulfilling my lifelong dream of being in Glee…)

I’m planning a wedding and honeymoon with a man who is honestly such an amazing human I still can’t get genuinely mad when he leaves his underwear on the bathroom floor EVERY morning…

And just a few weeks ago I found out I’ve been accepted onto a course to finally study the comprehensive classical repertoire of Joseph Pilates with two amazing teachers right here in Finland. In English. Something I couldn’t even dream of having the time or finances to do in London.

I mean, come on!

What more could a girl want?

Well, as it turns out, her friends.

A week ago at dinner with the incredible underwear-litterer that is my future husband, I just started crying without really being able to explain what was really wrong.

I sobbed. You know when kids get really overwhelmed and half talk and half breathe in that weird emotional staccato state and get a bit of snot running down their face at the same time?

Yeah. That. In the middle of our local eatery on ‘date night’. What a catch. I can only imagine how many of you reading this are disappointed that I’m not single anymore.

A few days later upon discovering a flat tyre on my bike, I proceeded to kick it and throw my helmet onto the floor whilst shouting ‘FUUUUCK!’ at the ceiling.

The Finn proceeds to come towards me with an understanding expression and a loving embrace. So naturally my reasponse is to reject this heartfelt gesture and shout at him to;

‘Just leave without me because obviously I can’t come with you can I?!’

pointing to my poor, forlorn bike with the burning rage of a thousand suns.

You know, like a completely rational human being.

The truth was, my heart was aching for my friends and the comfort and warmth only they could bring me.

To give some back story, I began typing this blog in a post-sauna haze after downing the best part of a bottle of excellent white wine provided by the aforementioned Matti from the opening paragraph.

The reason I started writing it then wasn’t because I was drunk and sad. I was drunk, but it wasn’t sadness I felt but a sense of clarity for the first time in over a week.

I was depressed.

I was trying so hard to ‘fake it to make it’ that the smile on my face that had been positioned there through gale force winds and bullet-like rain suddenly seemed like it had been permanently tattooed to my face.

On one particular day during this depression if one more person had asked me;

‘So! How are you enjoying life in Finland?’

I honestly think I may have become the human embodiment of a nuclear mushroom cloud.

And please don’t mistake these temporary feelings as disdain towards Finns or indeed Finland. It is probably because of them that this period came and went so quickly.

It is not their fault that we don’t have a familiarity with each other that only comes after years and years of shared memories and experiences.

They didn’t ask me to move to their country and begin a life here. But I did, and they welcomed me with open arms and a perfectly heated sauna when I did.

They gave me a job, teaching and working in English, and paid me every penny of what I’m worth. Something that is almost impossible to achieve in my industry in London.

They sent information about courses that cost practically nothing so that I could learn their language in school and at times that suit me with other lovely expats.

They are the sweetest and most honest people I’ve ever met. I love you Finns – seriously – you’re just the best. You’re like that really cool Auntie who lives alone with cats and paints canvases in her underwear and drinks brandy in the middle of the day.

You don’t care that other people think you’re a bit weird…you embrace the weird.

And as a child who once had a school photo taken with a very questionable perm and a Star Trek badge (proudly) pinned to her school blazer, embracing the weird is something I know a lot about.

But, as usual, I digress.

The overall point is – I have been missing my friends and trying to ignore the fact that I have been mildly depressed about it.

I didn’t talk to anyone about it for this short period of about 10 days because I was desperate not to spoil this perfect image I believed everyone had of my life here.

I didn’t want to be seen as a failure.

I know some of my friends are reading this and screaming at the screen right now – but hang on! Read the next bit…

I sent a message to my best friend. She’s one of the most honest people in my life. Sometimes painfully honest. But this is why I love her and why I think our friendship has only grown stronger and stronger year after year. I have missed her every day that I’m here.

In this message I tell her how I miss her and her children and all of my friends and how I don’t want to feel like a failure.

She sends back the most heartfelt message at the end of which she tells me ‘I’m so proud of you’ and I cry happy tears.

We exchange some amusing cat gifs and I laugh some more.

The next day I reach out to another one of my closest friends. We have a catch up. She empathizes and shares some similar experiences from her own life and we laugh about other random life events before saying goodbye.

I reach out to a group of my girlfriends from South Africa who have been living in London for long enough to detest the tube system and property rental prices in equal measure, and ask for their take on things.

Within 10 minutes I have 5 different messages of support, a video message and a singalong voicenote to Mariah Carey’s ‘Always Be My Baby’.

I cried with as much laughter as I did happiness.

The next morning I wake up to more messages of love and empathetic understanding.

A few days later I chat to one of my other closest girlfriends. She is crying and sharing something extremely difficult and heartfelt with me and I hate that she is feeling this way. We talk for almost an hour and she tells me;

‘Thanks so much for this – I feel so much lighter already for talking to you about this’

And I feel so happy that I’m able to help her in some small way, realizing that even though these life events are shitty, it is actually just another moment that has brought us even closer together in the long run.

I realize that the dark, grey cloud I’ve been walking through isn’t there anymore. I feel more like myself now than I have done in two weeks.

Apparently a problem shared really is a problem halved. Who knew?

I miss my non-Finn friends, but it doesn’t mean my life here is awful. I have wonderful new friends with whom I’m building beautiful and hilarious new memories with.

But it also doesn’t mean I won’t have shitty days. (Although it does mean you probably shouldn’t kick your expensive bike and shout at your fiancé when he’s offering you love and understanding in the midst of what can only be accurately described as a fit of chaotic insanity)

But the fact is, my friends remain my friends and therefore part of my life no matter where I am in the world.

And I have so much happening in my life right here that I don’t want to miss what I can experience by being distracted by what I can’t.

I will continue to miss them – but I will also continue to live my best life and tell them at regular intervals how awesome and amazing they all are and how much I love them.

So this quote, taken from the most accurate source of real friendship ever portrayed on television – ‘The Golden Girls’ – is for all of you…

‘Thank you for being a friend,
Traveled down a road and back again,
Your heart is true – you’re a pal and a confidant.

I’m not ashamed to say
I hope it always will stay this way
My hat is off, won’t you stand up and take a bow.’

Thank you for being a friend.