This is a long delayed post. I’m finding that it’s hard for me to write when I’m overwhelmed by emotions. Leaving Mexico was hard. Being in Portland was harder. And through it all I feel a lack of direction that presents challenges. It makes it hard to identify what I want, to effectively plan, to do much of anything but indulge in whatever emotional content is rolling my way. Portland has really upped the crying ante.
I feel both extra alone and extra like I just slide on into a slot in pdx. And I feel removed from it all at the same time.
I keep setting up these ideas and goals, like Kilimanjaro, and I’m not by any means saying I don’t want them, but it also feels like I’m trying to shove myself into wanting something. Like “do this thing, this will give you direction” and maybe that’s ok. Maybe that’s what I need to do until it comes to me some other way. Maybe that’s all most people do and they don’t try to insist on some grand over arching purpose driven thing, maybe it’s just bouncing from mini goal to mini goal and that’s contentment? Maybe I’m a narcissist who’s way too much up her own damn head to allow herself to just be.
And here, I’m seeing how much I don’t want things that much. Like anything. It’s so hard to talk myself into doing something. I think I could just spend all day in bed avoiding thinking.
I miss owning a home. In that regard it’s a terrible time to be in Portland, flowers are blooming, gardens are on display and markets are full of heirloom tomato starts and not just Cherokees, Brandywines and Green Zebras, but fun exotically named ones like Wapsipinicon Peach. There are rows and rows of little baby Padron and Jimmy Nardello peppers, beautifully speckled mescluns and shiso and mizunas. Fiddlehead ferns sit curled next to beefy porcinis. Living vicariously by buying my moms starts, but am also curbing myself and not buying her 6 spicy peppers. This is a beautiful time here. And I feel so unsettled in it.
I learned a bit on this trip. One- just take the PTO. Trying to work was a nightmare. Two- try a little harder to figure out what I want from the trip and prioritize it. The people pleasing side of me felt like I disappointed everyone and then another side of me felt like I failed to do the things I wanted to, so oops? And then I just felt a bit guilty. I have all these people around who love me, who are taking time and making efforts for me and who just want me around and I can’t get past my own hurt. Ugh.
Mike’s sister telling me she didn’t feel like she could see me was hard. Really hard. In many ways, I get it. I too held a fierece loyalty to my brother. In other ways, I thought I had done enough. I was amicable during the divorce, I moved so far away and asked for so little. See me twice a year, texts on b’days. I thought I could have it, I thought I was reasonable enough, together enough, kind enough, I thought it was little enough that it wouldn’t feel like a betrayal or like a choice was necessary. And I know it’s not about me, but somehow some part of me thought I could overcome the not about me part by being perfect enough. Turns out, I can’t.
But the trip was hardly all tears and rejection. Had an action packed two weeks seeing my cousin & uncle, playing with puppies, buying so much hiking gear (then returning so much hiking gear and re buying different hiking gear), concerts, doctor appts, friends, family, eats, and outings. I do not have breast cancer, I do have reading glasses, I learned that getting your eyes dilated sucks, and I have clean, cavity free teeth.
So puppies are ridiculous.
That thing they do where they bring puppies to offices to reduce stress and improve morale- omg it’s so obvious when 5 quasi coordinated little floof balls come tumbling over to you with unparalleled excitement. So what if they take up an entire living room for months? So what if they obliterate most chances at conversation that doesn’t relate to them? If the playlist only includes “puppy calming” music? So what if that music only works a fraction of the time? There are puppies.
Spent time at my parents place which was admittedly dominated by puppies. Then hoofed it over to N Portland to housesit for Bloo, a charming 6 year old German Shepherd, in a lovely old Portland home, a touch too much like my own and only different in those ways that made mine better.
Trip highlights:
PUPPIES! And my parents, but also puppies
CONCERTS! Rilo Kiley, Jack White & Amigo the Devil. I’m a bit sad I didn’t make it to a local show, and some of these definitely renewed my anti McMenamin’s sentiment, but so fun. I don’t know how I always forget how amazing Amigo the Devil is live, if you’re not familiar, he’s a dark folk musician who brings humor and rawness to topics of death, depression, and substance abuse. But his basic vibe is hopeful, optimistic, believing in growth and change while acknowledging pain. Also, he is hands down the best solo performance I’ve ever seen.
Kachka & RRR– EAT ALL THE DUMPLINGS. Also, Georgian tarragon soda is amazing, wrapping the evening up with an epic 3+ hour bollywood bromance adventure shown at Hollywood Theater with vocal audience participation for th win.
Adelsheim – May is wine month and Adelsheim was doing free tastings, so Fran & I had an outing. Beautiful setting, delicious wine.
Alki – Oh Seattle, the slightest chance of sun and there’s folks out on Alki in bikinis, playing beach volleyball alongside a few very side palm trees.
Seeing Leah W- Haven’t seen this woman in a solid 15 years, maybe more. So lovely to have a moment to catch up, and damn we’ve both changed.
Y’all– This was really the absolute best. Altho it also made me realize how few folks I have to talk to here, cause my throat was sore most days.
I did not do a good job taking photos this trip, so for those of you who are in this for the pics, I’m sorry.
I recently read an article about divorce grief and it made me think a little differently about my experience, in that in honed in on the grief involved in letting go of dreams and future. And maybe that’s what’s interesting about Mexico City vs Portland. Being in Portland, I’m letting go of a past way of being. In Mexico City, I’m renegotiating how I saw a future and dream. And man, we were so at our best when exploring new things.
I want to start this by saying that I have no doubt I will be ok. But I think I understand you better now. It’s only recently that I’ve thought of myself as depressed. And I hate it. I wake up not having slept well, which in fairness is pretty standard, and have no interest in the day. I thank little baby Jesus for Leo, who is getting better and better at imitating the noise I make when I stretch in the morning and who then dramatically plops down and rolls into me, belly up, seeking some cuddles and then I cry for a bit. Just because it all feels like too much. And I miss the me who sprang from bed excited for the sun, eager to start a day, or someitmes actively angry about starting a day cold, dark and wet, but never this combo of dread and indifference. I honestly can’t even figure out how those can co exist. There’s a thing in EM about noticing and congratulating yourself for the little things when you’re working an activation. “Good job, you brushed your teeth” Cause that’s the level it can pull from you, that’s the exhaustion it can give you. And I think depression may not be that different. I never understood that’s how it may have been for you. Granted, you never told me. You never told me when you were depressed vs manic, you never discussed how you were feeling in a moment, actually you only ever wanted to discuss how you were feeling abaut something I did or didn’t do in a moment.
I’m back in Mexico now after a trip that felt both too long and too short. It’s nice to be in my own space, but frankly the whole Portland business increased my longing for familiarity. The first days back have been tough, although that was compounded by an overnight flight on which I did not sleep. I’ve felt a bit in a haze, a bit exhausted and this Saturday hosted a lot of tears.
But Sunday, I went for a long walk with in my new hiking boots (very exciting). On Sundays the churches , which I believe to be almost exclusively Catholic, leave their front doors open, whether it’s to invite folks into mass or for airflow, I have no idea. But the remarkable upshot is that you hear singing and the intonation of a mass every where you go. And so I walked with a bright sun overhead, trees outgrowing their alloted space in a sidewalk, surrounded by voices lifted in unity. As one church’s ceremony faded out another came within earshot. It’s not my unity, it’s not my cause or belief, but the connectedness of it was beautiful.
Ok. I haven’t eaten a taco yet (GASP), but I did set out for some tamales.
Tamales Doña Emi has been serving tamales since the 1960s when they were just a roving cart. In addition to highly traditional tamales de mole, de pollo verde, de rajas, Emi’s now also features brave new combos such as huitlacoche with olives and cerdo con salsa de cilantro. I grabbed 3, which was too many, one de rajas, one de mole, and one de queso with flor de calabaza. The two I have eaten so far were both very tasty. Initially, I thought this is too much masa, but it’s so richly flavored and fluffy, without feeling fatty, that I happily scarfed it all down. The flor de calabaza was subtle, but lovely. The mole was a mole negro that I did find a bit much for me. Looking forward to my rajas.
Year One Project 
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