When I moved to Portland a little over two years ago, I promised to give myself three years before making any decisions about how long I'd stay here. I knew that moving away from my family - by blood and by choice - was going to be hard. Making friends as an adult is always difficult. I wanted to make sure that I'd given my new city every chance I could to be, you know, home.
Those three years are up at the end of June, and I keep finding myself wondering if this is where I really belong.
I moved to Portland for change, and to be near my sons. I wanted to experience a different part of the country, to live there, and to see what opportunities I could find. And I've found a multitude of differences and opportunities. My heart soars at the thought of being able to hike on the side of a mountain or along the coast with just a short drive. I love that one of the most beautiful cities in Canada can be experienced in a weekend for the cost of two tanks of gas and an AirBnB for a night. I love the culture in my new Kingdom - for the most part. I love working in downtown Portland, and being able to easily experience all it has to offer. I love how dog-friendly everywhere out here is. I love that my kids can easily call me up and ask me to do things with them.
But there are a lot of negatives to being here, too. In my two years here, I've struggled to be part of the groups I've encountered. I participate, but I feel very much the outsider. It could be argued that I've kept myself away for a lot of that time. I dated a man who didn't understand nor want to participate in a hobby that has been my life for two plus decades. My built-in social group, as it were. So I didn't join in as much as I could have.
Not that I stayed away, particularly. I became an officer within a few months of moving here, and have continued as an officer of some sort ever since. I attend at least one event a month, usually, though I've been known to skip a month here or there. I guess I count myself as still active, but not as active as I had been back in the Midwest. Some might even say that I participated a healthy amount. And I've met a number of people. I am acquainted to many, and friends to a few. But it's not the belonging that I left behind. Of course, that's hard to replicate.
These new friends have built-in social dynamics, and they don't always include the lonely, needy new woman who has shown up in their town. They're kind and I think they care, but they also don't always think to invite me, or they have limited space and I don't make the cut. I don't blame any of them, nor am I hurt or upset for the most part. It just means that I'm never sure where I fit into this social dynamic that I'm now a part of, and I think many of my friends here feel the same about me.
On top of that, while it's nice to be available for my kids, they don't reach out that often. They have their own lives, which often doesn't include Mom hanging around. I'll invite them over, but it's hit-or-miss if they can or will come. Weeks will fly by and suddenly they'll remember me. I'll get invited to do something, and for one night, things are really good. Then it'll be another several weeks where I'm home alone, waiting to be remembered. I'm not their priority.
I'm not anyone's priority right now. And that's hard. It's lonely.
I've been seeing a few guys, but they're transitional. None of them are people that I really want to invest my energy into too much. They're fun in the moment, and when they're gone, they're pretty much out of my mind. They're a diversion from the loneliness, not a cure.
Moving away from everyone you know and love is hard at the best of times. When I moved out here, it was pretty much the worst of times. I've struggled for the last two years to not only find my place in this new city, but to find myself, too. That's been so damn hard. I think I'm finally coming to grips with who I am, but I've still got to find my place here.
One of the smartest people I know suggested that I make a pros and cons list about living here. Be logical in assessing if this is where I should be at this point in my life. The pros list is long and deep. I love my job, I love the terrain, I love the culture of acceptance. I love the weather, the culture, the sailing, the snow-shoeing. I love the food, the new experiences I've had (and so many more that I know are still to come). I love Portland, and its proximity to so many amazing places and things.
My cons list is short and very narrow: I'm alone and lonely. It's been a theme throughout these blog posts. I'm an extreme extrovert who needs people to fully appreciate the experiences that I have.
This is why I settled into a relationship with a guy that I knew wasn't right for me. He was someone to have experiences with, and we like a ton of the same things. That everything we experienced were on his terms for the most part didn't matter so much, because at least I wasn't left to have those experiences by myself. Because if I'm honest, for me, most of the time, having those experiences alone are barely worth having. The shared experience is what I seek.
I don't know how to appreciate solo experiences. If I can't laugh with someone else, then what's the point of a comedy? If I can't share a sunset over the ocean, then how can the beauty be truly seen? How do you cheer for a team by yourself? Who is there to argue politics with - or to share the grief with - when you're the only person in the room?
So all that Portland has to offer falls flat so often. Those pros are dimmed.
My three-year commitment isn't up until the end of June, and a lot can happen between now and then. For now, I'm holding onto the shared experiences I've already had that make Portland so amazing. And I'm hoping that in some miraculous way I'll learn to appreciate solo experiences. I miss my people, but I really do love it here. I just don't know how to love it alone.
Does anyone know where I can learn how to deal with this whole alone thing? Suggestions appreciated.
Those three years are up at the end of June, and I keep finding myself wondering if this is where I really belong.
I moved to Portland for change, and to be near my sons. I wanted to experience a different part of the country, to live there, and to see what opportunities I could find. And I've found a multitude of differences and opportunities. My heart soars at the thought of being able to hike on the side of a mountain or along the coast with just a short drive. I love that one of the most beautiful cities in Canada can be experienced in a weekend for the cost of two tanks of gas and an AirBnB for a night. I love the culture in my new Kingdom - for the most part. I love working in downtown Portland, and being able to easily experience all it has to offer. I love how dog-friendly everywhere out here is. I love that my kids can easily call me up and ask me to do things with them.
But there are a lot of negatives to being here, too. In my two years here, I've struggled to be part of the groups I've encountered. I participate, but I feel very much the outsider. It could be argued that I've kept myself away for a lot of that time. I dated a man who didn't understand nor want to participate in a hobby that has been my life for two plus decades. My built-in social group, as it were. So I didn't join in as much as I could have.
Not that I stayed away, particularly. I became an officer within a few months of moving here, and have continued as an officer of some sort ever since. I attend at least one event a month, usually, though I've been known to skip a month here or there. I guess I count myself as still active, but not as active as I had been back in the Midwest. Some might even say that I participated a healthy amount. And I've met a number of people. I am acquainted to many, and friends to a few. But it's not the belonging that I left behind. Of course, that's hard to replicate.
These new friends have built-in social dynamics, and they don't always include the lonely, needy new woman who has shown up in their town. They're kind and I think they care, but they also don't always think to invite me, or they have limited space and I don't make the cut. I don't blame any of them, nor am I hurt or upset for the most part. It just means that I'm never sure where I fit into this social dynamic that I'm now a part of, and I think many of my friends here feel the same about me.
On top of that, while it's nice to be available for my kids, they don't reach out that often. They have their own lives, which often doesn't include Mom hanging around. I'll invite them over, but it's hit-or-miss if they can or will come. Weeks will fly by and suddenly they'll remember me. I'll get invited to do something, and for one night, things are really good. Then it'll be another several weeks where I'm home alone, waiting to be remembered. I'm not their priority.
I'm not anyone's priority right now. And that's hard. It's lonely.
I've been seeing a few guys, but they're transitional. None of them are people that I really want to invest my energy into too much. They're fun in the moment, and when they're gone, they're pretty much out of my mind. They're a diversion from the loneliness, not a cure.
Moving away from everyone you know and love is hard at the best of times. When I moved out here, it was pretty much the worst of times. I've struggled for the last two years to not only find my place in this new city, but to find myself, too. That's been so damn hard. I think I'm finally coming to grips with who I am, but I've still got to find my place here.
One of the smartest people I know suggested that I make a pros and cons list about living here. Be logical in assessing if this is where I should be at this point in my life. The pros list is long and deep. I love my job, I love the terrain, I love the culture of acceptance. I love the weather, the culture, the sailing, the snow-shoeing. I love the food, the new experiences I've had (and so many more that I know are still to come). I love Portland, and its proximity to so many amazing places and things.
My cons list is short and very narrow: I'm alone and lonely. It's been a theme throughout these blog posts. I'm an extreme extrovert who needs people to fully appreciate the experiences that I have.
This is why I settled into a relationship with a guy that I knew wasn't right for me. He was someone to have experiences with, and we like a ton of the same things. That everything we experienced were on his terms for the most part didn't matter so much, because at least I wasn't left to have those experiences by myself. Because if I'm honest, for me, most of the time, having those experiences alone are barely worth having. The shared experience is what I seek.
I don't know how to appreciate solo experiences. If I can't laugh with someone else, then what's the point of a comedy? If I can't share a sunset over the ocean, then how can the beauty be truly seen? How do you cheer for a team by yourself? Who is there to argue politics with - or to share the grief with - when you're the only person in the room?
So all that Portland has to offer falls flat so often. Those pros are dimmed.
My three-year commitment isn't up until the end of June, and a lot can happen between now and then. For now, I'm holding onto the shared experiences I've already had that make Portland so amazing. And I'm hoping that in some miraculous way I'll learn to appreciate solo experiences. I miss my people, but I really do love it here. I just don't know how to love it alone.
Does anyone know where I can learn how to deal with this whole alone thing? Suggestions appreciated.
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