Milestone

As of this week, I have lived in the town where I live in Oregon longer than any one, single place, since I moved from Kentucky. The previous record was Sinzig, Germany – I lived there, in one place, for 4 years and 7 months.

I have already lived in Oregon longer than I lived in any other state, except Kentucky, and longer than I lived in Germany.

And, yet… the town where I live isn’t home. Oregon isn’t home. It’s just where I live.

Part of the reason I feel this way is probably because I have moved so often since I left for university when I was 18. After just three years, I start feeling restless. It’s not that I enjoy packing and unpacking – I don’t, at ALL. I hate it. But I love getting to know a new place, discovering new places to see and new things to do. However, inevitably, I run out of new things to see and do. In addition, I don’t seem to be able to find something to keep me tied to a place for long: jobs end, organizations close, volunteering fizzles when a leader changes, friends move, relationships fizzle, people turn out not to be who I thought they were, favorite places close up…

While Texas didn’t quite suit me, I never felt like I didn’t belong there, that I was unwelcomed there. I never got any attitude from native Texans about not being one myself. And you would think that wouldn’t be the case, since no state has as many songs celebrating it as that state does. I love the Lyle Lovett Song That’s Right, You’re Not From Texas (but Texas Wants You Anyway). It so sums up how I felt there. If it weren’t for the heat of the summer and Fall, I would have stayed. I made friends in Austin that are still my friends to this day – though I met all of them because of an online community for a particular kind of music we all love, not just through everyday interactions.

By contrast, in Oregon, if you aren’t born here, you aren’t wanted here, and those who are born here will say it online and to your face without hesitation. If you moved here from California – oh, heaven forbid you moved here from California. And Oregonians take it further: if you aren’t born in the town where you live, they resent any actions you take to influence how things are done in the town: how the police conduct their business, how neighborhoods are defined, how schools are run, whatever. I have never lived in a place where politicians who aren’t from a place have to emphasize how many years they have lived here, as if to justify their getting to live here, let alone run for office.

Since moving to Oregon – and particularly since moving to the town where I live in 2013 – I have looked for online communities and offline, onsite groups to join, volunteering, live music venues and arts scenes that would give me what I had in Austin: a feeling of belonging, a feeling of home. I have never made such a deliberate effort to get to know as many neighbors as possible. And nothing has worked out to make me feel like, yes, this is where I love living, this is where I belong. 

Days after moving to Oregon, I felt like I had made a colossal mistake. The state, and Portland, weren’t at all what I had envisioned or what people said about them. But after a year of floundering and whining, I decided I was going to be deliberate every day in finding something to like about where I’d chosen to live and deliberate in finding something enjoyable. That deliberation has lasted a full eight years. It’s taken work and determination and I’m glad to have done it – I have found some amazing things in this state, including right here in Washington County where I live. Most native Oregonians haven’t seen most of what I’ve seen in their state. I am frequently told by people right here in the town where I live, after telling them about something nearby, “Wow, I never even knew that was there. You know this place better than me.” Treating Oregon as a place to explore, just like I do when I’m traveling, has been a great way to approach living here.

But my determination is wearing thin. Once again, as I’ve done so many, many times in my life, I am wondering, where do I belong? Where is home? That place that feels safe and welcoming and comfortable… that place you go for rest after the travel and adventures – where is my place? Because, after all this time, if it’s not here, it never will be.

I still long for that moment of going to a place and thinking, yes, this is where I want to live, for the rest of my life, absolutely. And I know that it is a privilege to be able to choose where you live, one that is denied most people on Earth. So I feel selfish – unbelievably selfish – for feeling this way. But it’s how I feel.

I do love my house. I just wish I could move it.