There’s probably no really easy way to say it except just to say it, so that’s what I’m gonna do. Here goes.
I am moving back to Portland in a few weeks. And yes, I’m moving there alone.
I’ve watched more than a few relationships publicly implode on Facebook as of late and I just don’t have the cojones for that noise right about now so I’ve been mostly silent about the whole affair, but confused friends keep texting and messaging me asking what’s up, hence this post.
Truth will out: Morgan and I are breaking up. Or, I guess, to be more precise, we are broken up already.
I’ve found a place in the Alberta neighborhood and plan to move away from Cannon Beach and back to the city the first week of August.
It’s hard to know how much it is appropriate to disclose without offending any parties, so I’m going to err on the side of brevity, for blessed once in my life.
It’s just this: I miss Portland and have lately found myself feeling lonely and bored here on the coast. It is so beautiful, but I don’t have any close friends, I can’t charge very much for freelance writing and photo work, it’s rainy, there’s no tasty food, etc., etc.
Boiling it all down: I’ve been wrestling with the revelation that I’m not quite where I want to be anymore. Funny how that happens.
One thing that’s loomed large for me in early adulthood has been that old “Lead with your heart” saw. Every time I ignore this advice, I regret it. So I’m trying to be a better listener/agent for change in the hopes that the universe will more often deliver my instructions in the form of gentle nudgings and proddings as opposed to bricks and rocks and smacks upside the head. Not sure how flawlessly I executed the mandate this time around, but ancora imparo, right? Yet I am learning.
Here’s a shot of a cool Spanish sign in my new hood. Did I mention that I’m moving in with two cool teachers, and that we’re going to gun for a Spanish-speaking household? How cool. That’s almost too much cool for one short paragraph, but not quite. Never quite.
I counted backwards and I haven’t actually, really really lived in Portland since before I left home for college 14 years ago, aside from short-to-longish stints being a bum at my mom’s house throughout my 20s. This is, by my shocked estimations, my 28th move in those 14 years. My, the time goes by.
I am full of mixed emotions at the moment, but feeling mostly hopeful and positive about what’s ahead. My friends and family are, thankfully, a deep and refreshing well of wise counsel.
A few of the best pieces of advice I’ve gotten lately:
• There is no formula except the one you make.
• Every relationship is different.
• Guilt is a destructive emotion.
• You usually know what you need to do awhile before you are ready to do it. That’s OK.
• Don’t get caught up in other people’s expectations of how you should manage your life. Most of the time, they are too busy with their own tiny disasters to spend much time judging you anyway.
• Love is like baking. It’s hard to get the recipe to taste good if you’re missing even a few of the key ingredients.
So that’s that. Oh, and I love you all. A whole crazy lot.
Portland homies, get ready to hang, because your prayers have been answered: After 14 long years on the road, Erin is heading home!
And here’s when something was really funny at Swift. Love you, LML.