Get Going

Since moving to Portland, I have faced lingering depression. Away from the community that provided me with structure and purpose, I am trying to learn on my own how to be myself and proudly declare my intentions, values and desires.

I had great dreams of scanning the east coast and drinking in the culture of Catholic Workers there. Strangers becoming friends, new land becoming home. And now, I am in Portland, a familiar city, waiting for my friends to call, sitting at home unemployed, suffocating with self-pity. My plan was dying, and I mourned. I didn't have a job so I wasn't getting money, which meant my traveling would have to be limited. Underdeveloped. Unsatisfying.

I decided last week that I can't sit around like this anymore. With each second I am not moving, it is one more second I am wasting my journey on remorse. So I emailed the Tacoma Catholic Worker to request being in their company in September. When I pressed "send," I felt a resurrection of exuberance. I felt purpose coursing through my veins. I remembered the adventure I lusted for, and felt it just weeks out of my grasp.

Yesterday, after weeks of waiting and hopelessness, I was offered a solid job. I turned it down. The decision was quite counterintuitive to my original desires of saving money while earning an hourly wage; yet I understood at the very moment the job was offered that I didn't want a job. I didn't need the few months of pay. In actuality, I needed to stop worrying about doing things "right" and start taking care of myself. And that meant to stop delaying my travels and get to it. I knew I had the funds, the connections, the capability. In declining the job offer, I had finally gathered the strength to immediately take care of my own wellbeing instead of characteristically stalling for anticipated comfort.

I believe I made the right decision, but I am still so wrought with confusion. Should I really be saving money? Should I strive for my great nation-wide adventure? Can a local adventure be just as exciting and exotic and worthy?

The biggest struggle I am facing now is: Were these past six weeks just a giant waste of time?

I'd like to believe they weren't. My Pollyanna optimism would say in response that I learned a lot about myself: that I need community more than I thought, that I have the ability to conquer fears and discomforts, that I can face challenges on my own, that it is difficult to be in a new culture after two years, that I still hold such high expectations for my life and guiltlessly compare my "achievements" to others. And my realist and/or pessimist side would woefully moan: it was all a waste, you could have traveled sooner and instead you just sat around and felt sorry for yourself. Go now, but you have 6 weeks less to do it.

I guess either way, I used six weeks--whether they were useful remains to be seen. I have to forgive myself for being melancholy and dragging myself down. Any additional time spent on thinking about my loss of time or my seemingly unnecessary sadness will hinder my travels even more.

But I am heading out of Portland because I know I deserve to have my adventure. I don't want to sit around dreaming about it, or earning money for it--money can't buy me a better experience. I want it now. I'm sick and tired of waiting for scenes in my life to miraculously start without my provocation, or waiting for permission from others to partake in the life I want.

So I'm preparing to head out. Not much longer in Portland. Soon I'll be on my way and I'll have stories and meet people and use the youth I have been temporarily blessed to enjoy. Get me out of self-pity and get me to joy!