When my husband and I lived in Ohio, we usually did Thanksgiving on our own after his parents moved to Florida. Occasionally, we spent it with other people who were also from other places and invited us into their home. Since we moved to Salem, we've been lucky enough to be a part of an orphan Thanksgiving each year. I find this ultimately much more relaxing than any Thanksgiving with my family or my husband's. Not that I don't love my family, but because anytime I am visiting them and usually staying with my parents, I don't just get to go home at the end of the day. It ends up being just a bit too much time at a stretch with them.
For Christmas, things are a little different. Before we moved, we rarely just stayed at home over the Christmas holidays, except for health reasons a couple of years. Usually, we drove down to Georgia to see my family, then headed to Florida to see his parents for a few days, then back north through Georgia with another stop to see my family again. It was truly exhausting, and those few years we didn't travel were, aside from the health issues, more relaxed and pleasant for me.
Since we moved to Oregon, it's been different each year, and this year is no exception. The first year, another couple invited us to join them and some friends at the Grand Lodge in Forest Grove for Christmas Night. It was wonderfully empty and quiet, and we were able to just eat, drink, and be merry all over the hotel that night, followed by the hike the next morning. Last year, my husband had coworker that was on her own for the holiday. We invited her to go with us to a play (A Christmas Story at Portland Center Stage) and a meal in Portland on Christmas Eve, then spend the night with us and hang out on Christmas Day making a meal we would share that afternoon. It was very low key, and I like that on a holiday.
This year, she has travel plans, so we are once again on our own. It feels like being an orphan, even though there are two of us. We are still going to a play, a different one, trying to decide if this will become a tradition for us, but aside from that, we are winging it. There is little to no likelihood of traveling back east for the Thanksgiving/Christmas holidays anytime in the near or far future, so I guess new traditions are in order. If you really believe home is where the heart is, then this is my true home, because this is where my heart lies. So new traditions should start where my heart is, right?
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Life after the first year
I'm thinking over my first year in Salem, Oregon, which is my first year in the Pacific Northwest and my first year in the West, period. A lot has changed over the last 12 months, and I am just finally starting to feel at home again.
We arrived in Salem on October 21, 2009. I was really sad about leaving everything and everyone I knew behind. It all felt so final. To make matters worse, I spent the first 3 months in Salem working from home at my job in Cincinnati. This just perpetuated the feelings of loss for me. I didn't really meet many people, stuck at home all day. I joined the roller derby league so I could meet people, and I did, but I didn't form many real, lasting friendships. I actually believe that part of that was my fault because I wasn't ready to accept my new home yet.
I really stagnated for a long time, and what finally changed things for me was Twitter. I know to some that sounds ridiculous, but Salem has a relatively small community on Twitter, and as they started getting together more frequently, I met some really great people, many of whom I am happy to call friends now. Most of my social activities now tend to be with these people, and that social interaction has completely changed my life and my outlook. Through those people and certain others I met through roller derby, I am meeting other people, and I finally feel like I am a part of this small city. I am slowly building connections to people in Portland as well, though it's harder to socialize with people 50 miles away. I keep trying, because I feel some kinship with these folks as well, even if they are a very different crowd than those in Salem.
If you had asked me a year ago if I could ever feel so at home here, I would have said there was no hope. It seemed impossible at the time, but I have come full circle. I am so thankful for all the people now in my life, those in person and those that I currently only know online. They have made all the difference in the world for me in my transition to this new chapter in my life.
I still miss and love my friends in Cincinnati, but I am finally in a place where I can really appreciate both old and new people in my life and be truly happy about it.
We arrived in Salem on October 21, 2009. I was really sad about leaving everything and everyone I knew behind. It all felt so final. To make matters worse, I spent the first 3 months in Salem working from home at my job in Cincinnati. This just perpetuated the feelings of loss for me. I didn't really meet many people, stuck at home all day. I joined the roller derby league so I could meet people, and I did, but I didn't form many real, lasting friendships. I actually believe that part of that was my fault because I wasn't ready to accept my new home yet.
I really stagnated for a long time, and what finally changed things for me was Twitter. I know to some that sounds ridiculous, but Salem has a relatively small community on Twitter, and as they started getting together more frequently, I met some really great people, many of whom I am happy to call friends now. Most of my social activities now tend to be with these people, and that social interaction has completely changed my life and my outlook. Through those people and certain others I met through roller derby, I am meeting other people, and I finally feel like I am a part of this small city. I am slowly building connections to people in Portland as well, though it's harder to socialize with people 50 miles away. I keep trying, because I feel some kinship with these folks as well, even if they are a very different crowd than those in Salem.
If you had asked me a year ago if I could ever feel so at home here, I would have said there was no hope. It seemed impossible at the time, but I have come full circle. I am so thankful for all the people now in my life, those in person and those that I currently only know online. They have made all the difference in the world for me in my transition to this new chapter in my life.
I still miss and love my friends in Cincinnati, but I am finally in a place where I can really appreciate both old and new people in my life and be truly happy about it.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
My Mid-life Whatever
About two years ago, what I have been referring to as my mid-life crisis began. At right about that time, my whole world and future changed radically. The trigger was our decision for my husband to accept a job in Salem, Oregon, which meant we would be moving across the country from our home in Cincinnati, Ohio, far away from everyone and everything we knew up to that point.
When we made the decision, we were feeling a little disconnected from the community in which we lived, we were both dissatisfied with our jobs, and we knew that we had always wanted to move west. In addition, we knew that a major chapter in our relationship would be ending as we awaited the inevitable death of our dog from cancer she'd been fighting for a year already.
The agreement was that my husband would begin working for this company to help them open a plant in southern Kentucky, 2-1/2 hrs from home, and eventually we would make the transition to Oregon when we were ready. This meant I would be alone 4 days a week every week, while my husband stayed in an apartment near his job, coming home on weekends. So during this time, we had to prepare our house for sale in a shaky market and watch our dog die, and I had to decide what I was going to do for a job when we moved.
I think all of that spurred me, a basically introverted person that shared my deepest feelings with very few people, even in times of great need, to change into someone that was unrecognizable. Knowing I was leaving, I began to try to cultivate relationships more earnestly than I had before, and at the same time, I began to take risks and move outside my comfort zone in a way I never had. I went from someone that hid my innermost feelings from almost everyone, sometimes even my husband, to someone that was more open and honest about my feelings than some wanted me to be.
I felt lost, and that's why I always referred to it as my mid-life crisis. However, as I look back on that period, that is starting to become a memory, I realize that it might have been a mid-life re-discovery, rather than a crisis. I opened myself to a lot of new things, but I also spent a lot of time trying to be what I thought other people wanted me to be or what I thought other people would like. So in some ways, this was a good experience, because it forced self-examination on me, and I moved outside of my own box of what I was supposed to be to evaluate all my assumptions and beliefs about myself and others. On the other hand, sometimes my self-examination led to a wholly self-centered attitude, in which I neglected those close to me in my efforts to be someone different.
As the time to move grew near, I didn't want to leave Cincinnati. Even after we moved, I clung to new and old friendships and my memories of my home there desperately. Only very recently have I started to accept my new home and appreciate it. The people in Salem are wonderful, and this is really a great place to live. On the whole, I am actually very happy living here, and I am glad we had the courage to make such a change.
I am not sure I am entirely through this mid-life process yet, but I am on the tail end of it at least, and I have learned a lot about myself from it. I now know that there is no peace in trying to be something I am not in my heart. My true nature has to be allowed to come through, and I have to realize that the rest will fall into place, regardless of where I live. There will always be some people that accept and understand me for who I really am, as well as those don't. The former are the ones that matter to me.
When we made the decision, we were feeling a little disconnected from the community in which we lived, we were both dissatisfied with our jobs, and we knew that we had always wanted to move west. In addition, we knew that a major chapter in our relationship would be ending as we awaited the inevitable death of our dog from cancer she'd been fighting for a year already.
The agreement was that my husband would begin working for this company to help them open a plant in southern Kentucky, 2-1/2 hrs from home, and eventually we would make the transition to Oregon when we were ready. This meant I would be alone 4 days a week every week, while my husband stayed in an apartment near his job, coming home on weekends. So during this time, we had to prepare our house for sale in a shaky market and watch our dog die, and I had to decide what I was going to do for a job when we moved.
I think all of that spurred me, a basically introverted person that shared my deepest feelings with very few people, even in times of great need, to change into someone that was unrecognizable. Knowing I was leaving, I began to try to cultivate relationships more earnestly than I had before, and at the same time, I began to take risks and move outside my comfort zone in a way I never had. I went from someone that hid my innermost feelings from almost everyone, sometimes even my husband, to someone that was more open and honest about my feelings than some wanted me to be.
I felt lost, and that's why I always referred to it as my mid-life crisis. However, as I look back on that period, that is starting to become a memory, I realize that it might have been a mid-life re-discovery, rather than a crisis. I opened myself to a lot of new things, but I also spent a lot of time trying to be what I thought other people wanted me to be or what I thought other people would like. So in some ways, this was a good experience, because it forced self-examination on me, and I moved outside of my own box of what I was supposed to be to evaluate all my assumptions and beliefs about myself and others. On the other hand, sometimes my self-examination led to a wholly self-centered attitude, in which I neglected those close to me in my efforts to be someone different.
As the time to move grew near, I didn't want to leave Cincinnati. Even after we moved, I clung to new and old friendships and my memories of my home there desperately. Only very recently have I started to accept my new home and appreciate it. The people in Salem are wonderful, and this is really a great place to live. On the whole, I am actually very happy living here, and I am glad we had the courage to make such a change.
I am not sure I am entirely through this mid-life process yet, but I am on the tail end of it at least, and I have learned a lot about myself from it. I now know that there is no peace in trying to be something I am not in my heart. My true nature has to be allowed to come through, and I have to realize that the rest will fall into place, regardless of where I live. There will always be some people that accept and understand me for who I really am, as well as those don't. The former are the ones that matter to me.
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