Austinite turned Utahn turned Oregonian
I have a semi-recurring dream that my teeth all fall out. I grind my jaws together and my teeth crumble and drop out of my skull, leaving my mouth a bloody mess. Gruesome, I know. I googled the meaning of this kind of dream once and many sources pointed toward the interpretation that it meant the dreamer feared old age. Once, on a first date with a boy who I hardly knew, I was blatantly accused of being afraid of growing up. I don't remember the full extent of the conversation, seated side by side in my car, but it ran somewhere along the lines of discussing where we wanted to end up after graduation. Apparently my uncertainty of the future inspired his accusation, and I resented it then. I resented his rude perceptiveness. I didn't think I had any sort of Peter Pan complex at the time, but I've realized now that it's true.
I've been in Portland for about a week now. I will be upfront and say that this has been one of the strangest, hardest, most emotional weeks of my life. I expected moving to a new state to be hard, but I also knew I had done this kind of thing before. I've left my childhood state—God bless Texas—to go to college; I've served a mission and been transferred every few months; I moved to a new home in San Jose for a summer to work; I moved apartments every year of school in Provo and dealt with friends moving away and getting new roommates. I've dealt with change on so many occasions. As a result, I kept my Utah goodbyes soft and casual—a sort of coping method—in the hope that Portland would just kind of happen however it needed to. None of those things truly prepared me, though.
This move has been the biggest move because it is the "grown up" move; the move of my greatest fears, apparently. I no longer live in semesters, and my parents aren't a 40-minute drive away for Sunday dinners. I don't have the familiarity of an entirely Mormon group of friends to cradle me. I don't have the Y on the mountain to point me home. The Portland move was for real.
After I dropped my dad off at the airport, I wept. A lot. I called all of my closest friends and they listened to my fears through my wet Facetime sobs. (All I can say is, thank goodness for technology.) I suddenly felt the most alone I've ever felt in my life, with no one nearby to turn to. I questioned nearly everything—why the heck did I decide PORTLAND was where I was gonna end up? Why did I just leave my entire circle of friends behind to move somewhere ALONE? Why didn't I bring at least one friend from my photo program with me? Did I really think I could have a successful future in photography in this city I had only previously spent 36 hours in? Why didn't I just turn around drive back to Utah right in that very moment?? Fear had this immense grip on me.
I had come from a place where I was working in an office consistently every day, going to yoga at least twice a week, photographing concerts and making short films, and spending time with college friends, and then suddenly I had no job and no plans. I felt this gap, like I should be up and moving a million miles a minute. I felt worthless for not having things to do. I decided, knowing myself and my mental tendencies, that it would be best to settle and just BREATHE for a few days.
There is still definitely some fear left. (Legitimately, one of the saddest thoughts I had was, 'What if I want to go find a cool Portland swimming hole and can't because I don't have anyone here to put sunscreen on my back??' *cue ginger probs*) But these last few days in forced solitude have brought a lot of interesting growth. I definitely spent some of that time entirely in this little room I've rented from a kind empty-nester couple, finishing the second season of This Is Us on Hulu and reading a novel. I woke up early one morning to the most terrifying thunderstorm of my entire life (honestly, you guys, the pounding shook the entire house and I thought for sure that God was raging around the heavens that morning). Luckily, my constricted little world in my bedroom only lasted about a day and a half before I got it to expand a little bit. I got outside and sat by the St. Johns Bridge. I admired the city's greenery which is LITERALLY EVERYWHERE WOW. I ran errands. (Retail therapy is magic.) I went to the temple. (God is also magic.) I went to the studio for the first few days of my internship and already had my brain packed full of useful information, and my heart packed full of desire to make it. Whatever that means.
I still don't have a clear view of what exactly my path will be, or even exactly how I'll take my next step, but I feel tiny assurances giving me that blessed confidence that I need now as a single, graduated woman. I feel motivation to make connections, update my website, and build my portfolio. I feel that there is some sort of place for me here, however long I stay. This little patch of Portland green under my feet can be as temporary or as permanent as I want it to be. It is not the end of the world. It really is okay to let go of past phases in your life, knowing full well that those were important and valuable. Most importantly, it is totally okay to be afraid of growing up, just as long as you keep trying to face forward.
