XXVIII & No One Near Where I Came From

Today I celebrate 28 years without drugs and alcohol. 

There is a lot I want to say about this year since it feels like so much has happened. I feel restricted by how I want to say it because of how little I’ve been writing these last few months. I have stared at that first sentence for five minutes before spending another fifteen minutes trying to pick the perfect blog music to play. 

Last year we were living in Oregon. We lived in a small town on the eastern slope of Mt Hood, surrounded by orchards and wilderness. We had a porch where the warm wind would blow, and we could watch the grass move like rivers. At night we would look for coyotes and ghosts in the rows of cherry trees.

We moved across the country to Providence, Rhode Island. This is my wife’s home. She was born here and went to catholic school right down the street. We live in a small one-bedroom apartment in the attic of a house in a residential neighborhood next to the high school where my wife’s dad and uncles went. 

I have been going to an AA meeting here once a week. I am not going to lie; it has been painfully lonely sometimes. I’ve been making a few connections and watching friendships start to grow, and when I knew I was going to move, I intellectually knew I would have a hard time and that it would take time to feel a part of. 

Luckily, years of watching people come to Portland, Oregon, and watch the people who thrived and watched the people who suffered from moving to a new place. My notes include, and this isn’t just about AA, but a unique place in general:

1. Do not look at what sucks. No matter where you go, stuff people do sucks. Sometimes it is a terrible difference from where you may have been before, but sometimes it is just something different, so it requires getting used to it.
2. Know that you are comparing several years of information to a short period, so cool on making it a snap judgment. I lived in Oregon for nearly forty-five years, so whatever ‘things’ seem weird to me here is from six months compared to forty-five years. AA is interesting because I am used to an AA ‘brand’ that I am used to, but now I am somewhere where it is different. I will wait and investigate.
3. This one is hard for me: never generalize. Everything is too complicated to say “all things are…” or “people from here are…” People would give generalizations about Portland all the time. I would have to Davesplain the nuanced complexities of why that was the way it is. By the time I was halfway through, I had realized that the person wasn’t listening, and it was easier for them to keep the generalization for their own ability to understand the world.
4. I am the new person. No one wants to hear about back home in their current home. I was not too fond of it when I was in Portland, so I don’t want to do it here. Yes, it is interesting and can be a good conversation, but always talking about how it’s done back home is a sure way to be so lonely you have to move back home. I need to be cordial and accept new things as a new person. That doesn’t mean I need to accept terrible things, but I can learn before making my stands.
5. There is also the thought specific to things like AA or a music scene or any other cultural tribe that one might have been in for a long time; it is hard to compare now with the feelings we had when we were new to something. I am nostalgic for certain things, but I will never get that rush ever again, which is not a new place’s fault.
6. Try and be a part. No matter how hard it is to be in a new place, it is worst when a person isn’t trying. I don’t show up to places where no one knows me and stand there, and people flock to my feet, wondering how interesting I might be. I always want to add positive energy to the situation, not suck it away because it isn’t perfect. 

Being in a new place makes my anniversary a tad melancholy. I had roots in Portland since that was where I spent my entire sobriety, and here there are only a few people that know more than my first name. 

I have no regrets about my decision to move far away from family and loved ones. While Rhode Island is still very alien to me, I do have a feeling of belonging here. There is something about being almost surrounded by ocean, lighthouses, and the famous haunted woods and houses everywhere. 

I can love it here and miss Oregon at the same time.

This year I met my birth mother for the first time. We met in Mystic, Connecticut. It has been surreal, and there isn’t a concrete way to feel about it. Part of the things I understood of myself ended up being completely false, and some of the things I never could understand about myself have been answered. I am still learning things. 

While it has been complicated moving across the country, having my self-knowledge shaken to its core and homesickness, there is so much I can say I am grateful for.

Providence is a beautiful city. Every time I walk down the path along the Providence River, I know I have made the right choice. I am still learning about my new home, and I look forward to exploring the city more and finding my spots when the weather warms up. 

I have been making some friends here, and that has been nice to connect with people face to face. I look forward to more hangtime. 

I can’t finish this blog and not say my gratitude to my wife. She has been patient with me as I grapple with this huge move. We decided that we would come out here and make a home for ourselves, and this is what we are doing. We are still learning about each other, and taking me out of my element is undoubtedly giving her some new information about the man she decided to marry. 

To all the people I’ve met on this journey, thank you, whether I love you or not like you, you have helped me be the person I am today. To all the ghosts that haunt me and guide me, thank you.