When I started this Portland blog, I had originally titled it "On Being True at Thirty." It seemed appropriate, given that this was the year I entered the fourth decade in my life and underwent a lot of change and transition into a supposedly more settled life in one place. I thought to myself "This is the year that marks my transition into the rest of my life" and other silly thoughts like that.
I quickly opted to change the title--and that mindset--because what I continually (and thankfully) realize is that life constantly throws you curve balls.
I'm usually pretty good about not feeling societal pressure to adapt my life to social norms put in place about where I should be, or what I should be doing at a certain time in my life. But, it's so prevalent, it's hard not to succumb every now and then! Luckily, I usually catch myself in time before really giving in.
In my early 20s, I thought I had found my career path. Gerontology. Who, at age 19, falls in love with working with older adults and spends six years of higher education investing her time, money and energy on the field of gerontology?! This girl did. And, coming back to Portland after spending five years doing mostly non-gerontology things, I thought I could just walk right back into the land of elders.
I searched high and low for jobs that might help me finagle my way back into the field. None of them really ever excited me that much, but I was prepared to work a so-so job just to get my foot in the door. A stepping stone of sorts. I had no idea what I actually wanted to do, but I assumed this was the right thing to do. The first job that came along was one that I enthusiastically took (who knew when the next offer might come along, after all). I thought I could do it.
Turns out, I was wrong.
Turns out, I need to be doing something that offers me some
inspiration during my day. Something that fills my soul up a little and makes
me feel like I did something valuable with those eight hours. Turns out, being
a Staffing Coordinator is not that. And, although older adults and gerontology
will always have a special place in my heart (and undoubtedly fill my soul and
inspire me), I am having a hard time finding exactly where I fit in to the
field and wonder whether I should be pursuing something closer related to what
I've been doing the past few years with my life.
Anyways.
All of this aside, age 30 has been one hell of a ride for me:
I said goodbye to South Korea after three years of calling it home. I left with countless memories of epic adventures and a heart full of fondness for some of the best friends I've ever had.
I traveled to seven countries with a boyfriend who I thought might someday turn into a life partner... And didn't.
I traveled to seven countries and got to spend my 30th birthday at 13,550 feet (4,130 meters) at the Annapurna Base Camp right in the middle of a 20-day trek through the Himalayas of Nepal (after reaching a high of nearly 18,000 feet), spent a night sleeping under the stars in the Indian desert only miles away from the Pakistan border, saw a wild tiger in the jungles of central India, kayaked down the muddy brown Ou River in Laos, indulged in fresh mangoes right off the tree in magical Angkor Wat, and ate bowls and bowls of noodles to my heart's content in Vietnam. Those are just a few of the highlights--I haven't even gotten to the adventures of plucking leeches off my feet, or being so sick that I missed a chance to visit the Taj Mahal.
I moved back to Oregon, a place I hold near and dear to my heart, but in which I've lived for only one year out of the past eight. I watched my brother get married to an amazing woman and spent time with my best friends' children after missing the first years of their lives.
I moved up to Portland from Eugene, a place I've always thought I could someday call home. I was lucky and found a great house to live in for my first two months and have maintained a friendship with the two women with whom I lived. I have experienced countless moments of content and awe and inspiration while living here, many of which occur while admiring the cityscape, walking down a neighborhood sidewalk observing people going about their daily lives, enjoying local nature, or admiring the quirkiness of Portland. I have maintained a great social life--having friends from multiple phases of my life and constantly making new ones. My soccer team and the classes I take at the gym give me necessary exercise and provide some entertainment on the side.
So why, then, have I hit a wall? Why, despite knowing that my decision to resign from my job was right and despite having so many wonderful people in my life, do I feel stuck and that my life is lacking purpose?
I don't like to admit it, because I'm one stubborn son-of-a-b****, but here are a few ideas (based on
this article):
1. My 'honeymoon phase' of being back home is coming to a close. I came back when the weather was perfect and my brother was getting married. I enjoyed re-discovering Oregon and fantasized about all the amazing things I will get to do in future years now that I'm settled here.
2. I feel anything but settled--in my work, in my home, or in my life in general. I left the potential of getting my professional life settled after realizing that I couldn't be settled in a job like that, not even for another month. Finding a home in which to settle proves itself to be more difficult (and expensive) than expected here in Portland and not being able to create a space to call home is wearing on me. Socially, I am fortunate and have more than enough people to be with should I start to feel lonely; however, having only been here a few months, none of those relationships are of the nature that I had while abroad (i.e., degree of closeness--emotional and physical proximity).
3. Delayed manifestation of my feelings of loss and stress related to my transition from abroad was something I (naively) didn't expect. Though I never have to be alone here if I don't want to be, I've often felt lonely. Ironically, that's the complete opposite of my sentiments about independently traveling the world, where I often was alone, but never felt lonely. Once my 'honeymoon phase' wore off and I started the settling-in process here in Portland, I did start to mourn for my previous life and a number of times have had fleeting thoughts of going back.
4. I think I've forgotten how to date in the 'real world'. It's been so long since I've lived in a place that I plan to call home for the foreseeable future that, suddenly, my notion of dating as a long-distance and short-lived stage of life that happens in a smaller social network and where people just end up with the best person in that network because there are no other options, no longer makes sense and I don't know what to do with it. I have joined the ranks of online dating because I don't know how else to start. I have nothing but desire to find a life-long partner, but admittedly, starting that process at age 30 is a bit daunting.
5. I am, without a doubt, currently in this phase of feeling overwhelmed. I am tired. Tired of feeling in limbo, tired of not being settled, tired of the unknown. Every day I am doing my best to make the most of the day and remind myself of all the beauty and positives in my life. Most days, it's not too difficult and I smile and laugh to myself (literally!) that in some months, or a year from now, I will look back at these moments in my life and be proud for trudging through them to greater things. Some days are harder than others.
6. Who I was before going abroad, and who I am now, is in some ways two different people. At the root of me is the same person. But, who can argue against the notion that experiences shape us and who we are? When I think back to the endless number of experiences I've had in the past years--exhilarating, frustrating, empowering, thought-provoking, saddening, frightening, freeing--I am amazed with myself and what I've underwent and overcome. Taking your old self to a new place, and then bringing your new self to an old place is a strange and inexplicable phenomenon.
7. I've now been stateside for 5.5 months; I've been in Portland
for just over three. Like most of us, I am my own worst enemy and am harder on
myself than I could ever be on anyone else. Yes, I am struggling with the fact
that I don't have my life sorted by now because I feel like it should be.
Feelings of discouragement, fear and grief have certainly reared their ugly
heads at me from time to time in the past few months and at times, are a force
to be reckoned with. However, the beauty of all of this is that travel and my
life abroad has made me resilient and given me the tools to deal with these
feelings and the optimism to stop, take a moment, and realize (and know) that
it's all going to be okay.
8. To a certain degree, I have been in a state of acceptance since
I first stepped foot back on American soil. I wasn't entirely naive about what
this transition might look and feel like. I knew it wouldn't be easy and I knew
I would long for the life I had abroad, just as I longed for my life in Oregon
while I was abroad. I think for me, the need for acceptance in my life comes
with accepting the fact that I am in a state of transition and limbo, and that
I don't know exactly what I want to do professionally anymore. After experiencing so much and
having my eyes opened wide to a world that I never could have imagined on my
own, how can I expect myself to fall right back into the path that I
momentarily stepped away from before going abroad?
9. It's difficult to integrate that "exotic" life I had abroad
with the familiar life of being back home. Family and friends back home, no
matter how curious and supportive they may be, can't fully understand where you
are or where you've come from, just as I cannot fully understand the life or a
home-owner, spouse, or parent. How to combine these lives enough to create a
flow seems a difficult task; I suppose that's why this is listed as one of the last 'phases' from the article.
10. It will be nice to one day look around me and breathe a deep sigh of "aaahhhh, home." Though I dream of having that 'home' some day, I also hope to never let go of my desire to leave my comfort zone and continue to explore and experience the beautiful world around me. I might be going through a difficult time right now, but I wouldn't trade a second of the last five years of my life for a 'home' right now.
