Today I had a lengthy discussion about some of my recent grumblings. After sorting through said grumblings, it came to my attention that maybe I don’t see Portland as my home. I’m still trying to work out what that might mean.
I love Portland and I don’t see myself moving to any other place, yet I still don’t consider myself settled here. I find myself yearning to belong to some sort of community, yet I don’t feel like I fit in to the ones I have explored. Part of the issue for me may be that I haven’t lived here long enough (continuously) to develop many deep relationships with people? That I haven’t put myself out there enough to meet new people? Am I shy? What’s the deal, self?
This got me thinking about what “home” is.
I will always consider Pennsylvania my home, because it is where I grew up. My family is there. The friends I have known the longest live there. It is just naturally home.
While northern Virginia never felt completely like home, it holds so much nostalgia that it feels like a home. Some of my closest and dearest friends live there. I also went to university there, and experienced big changes in my identity through my education.
Taipei, Taiwan was amazing, but I was only there for 1.5 years, and it was never intended to be permanent, so never was considered home.
Portland, Oregon is the place where I live. My husband and I choose to live here because it’s beautiful, the city is progressive, and we hope to have our own little urban farm one day. We’ve both started our careers here, and have invested in education here. Yet still not quite home for me yet.
Will it just take time? Do I have too much attachment to my “old” lives in other places? Is it just a general lack of contentment?
What about place makes people feel settled or content?
By no means am I unhappy living in good old Punkytown, Oregano. I just am searching for a deeper connection to this place I choose to live.