Sometimes it takes a good friend to bring us back to ourselves.
I’ve been really quiet on my blog the past year or so and though life has got me quite busy, the silence is not because of my busyness. I haven’t been writing because I just have not been able to bring myself to do it.
For someone whose blog’s name is She’sWrite, who has loved writing all her life and considers writing as fundamental as breathing, that’s saying something. Not sure why I’m talking in the third person about myself. Sheesh, that’s annoying.
Anyway, I wasn’t writing because I was sinking. Many of you know from talking with me or comments I’ve made on Twitter and Instagram that Portland has not been a good experience. I was so excited to move here, but have been met with surprising racism, petty mommywars and other unsavory and mind-blowingly dumb drama. After awhile, it just takes a toll.
Not all of Portland’s been bad, the nature in the Pacific Northwest is unsurpassed. Also, when we got here, I was on a mission to meet as many people as I could, figuring that amid some of them, I would be able to find some soulmates. Ladies who loved to laugh, didn’t care what others thought, were bitingly and respectfully honest, fearlessly admitted flaws and just strived to do and be better.
Granted I did find some. There was a handful of new mommyfriends, who felt like they would fit seamlessly in with my beloved MILFs in Chicago. There also were the peeps in my storytelling crew and those artistic souls are beautiful and rare in any city, so they helped me out a ton.
Still with everyone’s busy schedules, it made it tough to connect, so I kept sinking. Finally I asked for help. I sent a long email to some of my nearest and dearest friends, telling them that I was miserable and needed them to come see me.
To this day, I think that’s one of the smartest things I’ve done. Telling people, hey, I’m having a hard time. Help. The love from across the miles came pouring into my inbox, those who couldn’t make the trip, sent me regular emails and notes of encouragement. One girl responded to my email with a proposed flight itinerary.
That girl is a crazy, hilarious no-holds-barred badass named Wendi. I interviewed her for a story a few years ago and we clicked like old besties. She came to Portland for a long weekend and fit perfectly into our family, which makes sense because she is family. We drank copious amounts of wine, checked out new restaurants, went hiking and had long walks around the neighborhood, gabbing and laughing all the way. There were also two late night dance parties that I’m sure pissed off my neighbors, because we were very loud and zero effs were given.
It’s always refreshing to be around someone who understands your core. It was good to see myself in her eyes. I had begun to question my judgment because I kept running into toxic people, Wendi smacked down that notion and all of the other negative notions that had been festering over the past year.
I was bummed when she left, so were my boys, but she helped connect me to me if that makes sense. So I’m going to try to do more writing, for Wendi, for you and most of all, for me.