You Can't Go Home Again

Last night I had intensely emotional dreams about Austin, relocation, home, and belonging. Unexpectedly, I woke feeling self-assured in my decision to be here. I am not happy with Portland all of the time, and I don't feel like it's where I'm "meant to be." But I do feel like it meets my needs, and will continue to do so for quite some time.

I had someone tell me the other day that when I finally got to where I was supposed to be, that I'd know. Which is bullshit. I'm not a person who will ever be completely satisfied with anything. It's both a flaw and an asset; it keeps me motivated to do better, but it also sometimes sours me with ennui. A big part of coming to accept myself is understanding that I will always be wanting, learning how to live with that, and working to make sure I can direct that wanting in a positive direction.

People talk about cities the same stupid way they talk about relationships. It is true that I love my girlfriend very much and that my relationship with her feels righter than any I've ever had. (I suspect that has more to do with the fact that I've been a big ol' homo for quite some time and kept trying to shoehorn myself in to relationships with androgynous leaning dudes than that soul mates actually exist.)

I do sometimes still think about being with someone else, or being by myself, and I'm not completely thrilled with our relationship all the time. That doesn't mean that we are breaking up, or that there's anything wrong with our relationship. I love her very much, and think that I could quite happily spend the next 50 years with her. But we're just two flawed people trying to work on living together, not two souls destined for each by some unseen universal force.

So it's probably okay that the place where I'm living doesn't cause me to spring out of bed in song every day. And it's probably okay that sometimes I'm frustrated and bored and that some other times I miss other places I used to live. That's life in all of its bittersweet glory.