In August 2018, I started a new life in Silverton, Oregon. Closer to family. Among my tribe. I've been here a year and have treasured every day. I really mean it when I say that I am "living the dream." It's been a transition going from a high-stress job in the nation's capitol to rural American life 3,000 miles away.
There have been times when I've caught myself walking down the street at a pace reserved for Washingtonians. When I have been in a rush to be in a rush. When I have been wound up because that's the life I've lived for so long. I have to consciously tell myself to slow down. To not be in a rush. To just chill out. Life here is at a slower pace and I haven't gotten there yet. Ironic.
Finding a good paying job has been ... well ... I don't have one. I've heard that being an outsider here counts against you. Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't. My Airbnb business has been growing steadily every month and I'm working a part-time job that I love more than any other I've ever had. I make minimum wage. I have zero work-related stress.
Learning to navigate the health care system has been a pain in the ass to put it mildly. The process to obtain health insurance was fairly easy, at first. But the amount of administrative work that accompanies it is ridiculous. Here, you also have to apply and be accepted by a General Practitioner. I'm in excellent health. No pre-existing conditions. No health issues. I've applied. I've been turned down. No explanation. Just "No."
When it comes to seeing other doctors, I've discovered that my insurance covers a consult with a chiropractor, but not an actual adjustment. Who sees a chiropractor for "a consult?" The insurance company insists that people do. Then there is the eye doctor. New lenses for my glasses costs $250. I couldn't afford to get contacts; they were more than $400. I make $11.50 an hour, remember? I haven't even considered going to the dentist yet.
Housing prices are obscene in Portland, which was part of reason we didn't move there. Oregonians blame Californians who sell their homes in California, pay cash for their home(s) in Oregon, then fix them up and/or build new ones. It raises property values ... beyond what local income levels can support, thereby creating a housing crisis. Then, there is the homeless population to contend with, but I digress.
We've been challenged to get creative since we've been here and we have. We are finding a rhythm. We wake with the sun and go to sleep by the moon. We walk a little bit slower. We aren't moved by national politics in the way we used to be. We saunter through our garden to pick fresh vegetables every other day. We enjoy our morning coffee and no longer feel as rushed as we once did. We spend a lot more time with family and friends. We have reconnected with our fellow man. I've hiked a few trails. I've even found time to read a book or two. It feels good to be home.
A few months ago, I had opportunity to get involved in local politics. I seriously considered it. Initially I thought I was ready, but getting into politics would mean that I would have to resign permanently from my job back in DC. (I've been on Leave Without Pay this past year.) After a few intense weeks of thinking through running for political office, I declined the opportunity. I am not ready.
I've learned a lot during this past year. About real life. Life without the protections afforded a federal employee––the beneficiary of so much security. DC is a tough place, but you know what, it's tough everywhere for many people in one way or another. I don't know much about a lot, but I sincerely believe that one's happiest should come first. And I'm the happiest I've ever been.
That said, I'm going back to work in DC in just a few weeks. It's crazy, I know. I just said I am the happiest I've ever been. I'm a dreamer and risk taker, but I'm also a pragmatist. I'm not ready to throw in the towel back in DC quite yet. But my heart will remain in Silverton, where Steve will stay with SmokeyLove and keep the home fires burning.
So, here's to another cross country road trip!
