In just a few minutes, I'm leaving for Bush Interclusterf--k Airport for my flight back to Portland. After three weeks in Hell Houston, I'm going home to Portland...and I'm beyond excited. 'Course, a week from tomorrow I'll be flying right back here for three more weeks of fun in the sun, but for the next week I don't have to do a damn thing if I choose not to...and I imagine there will be a lot of that (not) going on. After what I've done here in Houston over the past three weeks, I don't feel at all guilty about have a full week's down time. There are things I want to do, and people I want to catch up with, and I want to get back into the gym. I'm also looking forward to being in a place where the weather isn't 90 degrees and humid. Yes, I've become rather spoiled living in a place where the weather is mild and an inch of rain is a major weather event. I miss that.
Being back in Houston after the way I left a year ago was not something I ever even remotely imagined as a possibility. When I left at the end of September, 2007, that was it. I was done. No looking back. Game over. Done. I was in a horrible place emotionally, and in looking back, I can see now that I was trying to run away...from myself. Funny thing, that. What I discovered is that no matter how far I run (in this case, 2500 miles), there I am. It took me along time to figure that out, and unfortunately I caused someone I loved a great deal of pain. That's something I'm still struggling to find forgiveness for- from myself. My former wife, to her credit, seems to have forgiven me, which only proves that she's apparently a better person than I am. Had the tables been turned, I'm not at all certain I could have found it within myself to do the same thing.
Being back here again has given me an opportunity that I never expected to have. I've been able to catch up with people I never really had a chance to say goodbye to, and I'd just assumed that my leaving was no big deal. It was a very pleasant surprise to catch up with some friends and colleagues and discover that they were as genuinely glad to see me as I was to see them. This may not seem as if it should be a big deal, but for me it is. I've never had the stability that a family and a support system provide to so many. I wish I knew what that was like, but I don't. For whatever reason, people seem to disappear from my life. Part of it may well be due to a lack of effort on my part, but I've never fully understood the reasons why this is true. I'd like to be the sort of person who is capable of growing and nurturing long-term friendships, who could be a friend when one is needed, but for some reason that's never happened for me. At this point in my life, I've simply resigned myself to this reality. More to the point, I don't know how to change it.
The thing is that I know I'm a good person. The way I left Houston wasn't exactly indicative of this, but there were a lot of things happening at that time, both personally and professionally, that led me to a point where I just snapped. I still look back and wish that things hadn't played out as they did, but thankfully I've managed to come out the other side...and I like where I am. No, things aren't perfect, but they're good and they're getting better. After being in a place at work where I was facing the very real possibility of losing my job, I've arrived at a place where my personal and professional life feel good. No, I'm not necessarily where I'd like to be in either case, but things are improving...mostly because I've managed to remove my anterior from my posterior and get out of my own way.
I went back to my old office yesterday since I was in the area. I almost didn't, because I didn't know if anyone would remember me. Silly me; yes, there were a few new faces, but there were a lot of people there who were genuinely glad to see me, and it was great to be able to catch up. One of my problems is that I get so caught up in what I think are my failings or shortcomings that I manage to completely lose sight of the fact that I'm a good person and people genuinely enjoy my company in the same way I enjoy theirs. Silly, I know; but it's like I said earlier...I've never really known what it's like to have any sort of support group. I realize that no man is an island (apologies to John Donne), but I've always managed to do a very passable impression of one. To describe me as a loner wouldn't begin to grasp the truth of that description. It's not as if I set out to be this way, and I really can and do play well with others when I set my mind to it. It's not as if I'm some sort of social misfit, but I've never felt as if I've belonged...anywhere. I can't really explain why, but it's just always been easier, and safer, for me to do it this way. I'd like nothing better than to be able to figure out how that change that. No, I'll never be an extrovert, but it certainly would be nice to spend less time on my island.
Part of my hope is that, by moving back to Portland, I've put myself in a place that feels like home and where I can work on developing long-term friendships and connect with people in a way that I've never really allowed myself to. At this point in my life, I no longer know if this is even something I'm capable of, but if I don't give myself the opportunity, I'll never know if I can do it.
Being here in Houston this week has allowed me to resolve some things I never thought I'd be able to, and that's been a wonderful thing because it was so unexpected. These three weeks have been a very difficult and emotionally challenging time for me, mostly because of having to deal with the aftermath of Hurricane Ike. I can only hope that all y'all who don't live here will never have to see and/or experience what I have over the past three weeks. I've written a lot about it, but mere words can't do justice to the totality and the tragedy of the damage and the suffering created by it. I've spent so much time listening to so many stories, and the collective emotional weight of those stories still weighs on my soul. Something like 35 people are confirmed dead, and more than 300 are still missing and unaccounted for. I know that I will never forget what I've seen, the stories I've heard, and the heartache I've felt- and I get to go home to an intact city. I can't imagine what it must be like to live with this as your day to day reality.
I'll be back in a week, and I can only hope that this time around the emotional impact will be less. No, the Houston area isn't back to normal, but it sure as Hell isn't the bleak ghost town I arrived in three days after Hurricane Ike struck. At least you can find a place to eat now.
As for me, the story continues. Stay tuned....
