On Life Cycles & Catalysts for Change

Celebrating Seven Years in Portland & Reflecting on the Inherent Impetus of a Big Move

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Photo by Ellen O’Cain on Dupe

The night I arrived in Portland — on August 31, 2017, a little after 11 p.m. — it was dark, but still warm outside. The smoke from some nearby wildfires wouldn’t roll through for a few more days, so the night air still felt crisp and clear. It was a stark contrast to the heavy heat of Los Angeles, where I had left behind a life that felt heavy too; no longer a fit, but at least it had been familiar.

I pulled up to the townhome I’d be sharing with friends, saw the pod full of all my belongings parked safely at the curb, and climbed the stairs to the room that would be mine for that first year. There was a mattress on the floor and nothing else. I immediately unpacked a few more essentials: a pillow, some blankets, a candle, and a bottle of wine. 

My first night in Portland

I was exhausted from my two-day drive, but I also felt a spark of something I hadn’t felt in a long time — hope. It was the beginning of something new, a fresh start I hadn’t known I needed quite this badly. Portland, even in just this room with a mattress and not much else, was both an escape and a homecoming. 

I first visited the city in 2015, and something about it instantly felt like home, though I couldn’t have told you what it was then. I couldn’t know then what it would come to mean to me. 

At the time, I was married, rooted in Los Angeles by my husband’s job and a life that felt increasingly foreign. When my marriage ended two years later, I realized I had not just an opportunity but a necessary move to make: to leverage this seismic shift to rebuild my life, to remake myself. 

I don’t remember immediately thinking that move would take me to Portland, but when some local friends invited me to move in with them, I said “yes” without overthinking.

All I knew was that I needed to be far away from everything that reminded me of my relationship and the failure I thought it represented. I also assumed it might be easier to heal in a place where every street and every face didn’t echo memories of what I’d left behind. 

That first year in Portland was a good year, but a hard year. Moving far from what was familiar — unsurprisingly, in retrospect — did not magically heal the pain and shame I was clearly just trying to avoid.

In moving to a new place, I effectively moved away from my old life — out of relationships, away from old comforts, and out of negative patterns — only to find myself up against new challenges my life was forcing me to address. 

Moving to Portland forced me to confront myself in ways I hadn't anticipated, but it also gave me the space and safety to do so.

Over the weekend, I celebrated my seven-year anniversary in the city, and it got me thinking a lot about the idea of life cycles. My ex-husband and I were together for seven years before our relationship ended. Now, here I am, marking another seven years, this time in relation to my life in Portland. 

Over these last seven years, there have been countless transformative moments: living alone for the first time, learning about Human Design and astrology (which strengthened my sense of self and introduced me to the most incredible humans), ending a toxic relationship, moving in with Jordan (and surviving the pandemic together), adopting Hazelnut, writing the first draft of a novel, starting this Substack, and committing to sobriety, to name a few. 

Each of these moments marked a pivotal shift in my journey, a step toward becoming who I am today. And while Portland doesn’t get credit for all of it, moving here has certainly inspired me to fill my life with experiences that continue to challenge and change me — while also giving me proof that I can meet them.

Do we grow and change in predictable patterns like the loop of every seven years? I’m not sure. Maybe it’s like the framework provided by numerology or astrology or any other meaning-making system — the parallels are most noticeable when you’re looking for them. Or perhaps the cycle allows us to make micro the otherwise overwhelming macro of a lifetime’s evolution.

Who can know for sure? But I do believe there’s a rhythm to our lives; a cyclical nature to growth and transformation that keeps us learning the same lessons in new ways and at deeper levels. And I do believe that moving to Portland catalyzed a new life cycle for me; that pushing myself out of my comfort zone — both literally and figuratively — made way for all of the new learning and lessons that were to come.

Back then, the need for a change often simmered beneath the surface for me, like a pot slowly coming to a boil. I didn’t always notice what was needed until it was almost too late; until I was at the point where I couldn’t stand for things to stay the same any longer.

And then my instinct was often to act in ways that seemed impulsive — to change something immediately once I sensed it was no longer serving me — even if the necessity of the change had been under the surface of my consciousness for some time.

Certainly, I think that’s how I made the decision to move to Portland. I imagine that to my family and friends, it might’ve seemed to come out of nowhere. It sort of seemed that way to me too. And even though I’ve ultimately benefited from the change, one thing I’ve learned in these last seven years is that there’s reward in the slow and steady drumbeat of our personal progression, too. 

In this last life cycle, I’ve learned to be attuned to myself; to listen more closely to my intuition and recognize those early signs of discomfort and desire for change. Now, I allow for a deeper, more authentic feeling of transformation — a chance to truly become the person I need to be before entering the next phase of my life instead of forcing myself there through some dramatic shift.

That doesn’t mean that big, climactic change isn’t sometimes necessary; it certainly doesn’t mean that it’s not an effective way to force yourself into motion (by its very disruptive nature, it’s almost guaranteed to give you that); and obviously, sometimes we don’t have a choice one way or the other.

It just means that perhaps there are healthier ways to meet that moment; to guide yourself through it with a little more grace. 

A moment captured in my local park while on a walk last June

And I think that starts with knowing yourself better. That’s the gift of knowing yourself better— which sometimes can only be gained through being impulsive in the first place. If my own big change — that impetuous decision to pack up and move to Portland seven years ago — taught me anything, I believe it taught me that.

To that end, whatever this next cycle brings, I hope I deepen my trust in myself even further. I hope I remain patient with life’s unfolding, but also remain brave enough to keep making big changes when necessary.

I hope I am always willing to do the uncomfortable thing, the thing I know to be right for me even if no one else does. And I hope I always stay true to my own inner knowing and to the journey that I’m on; in integrity to myself and to the people who matter most to me.

If I could go back and talk to the version of myself who was pulling up to her new home in North Portland all those years ago, I would hug her tight and acknowledge everything she’s feeling: the confusion, the fear, the shame, the anxiety. 

I would tell her that this is only the first in so many brave changes she’ll make for the better, but they won’t all have to be so big. I would tell her that if she keeps trusting that still, quiet voice, it will not lead her astray. I would tell her to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and know that every step adds up in the direction of the life she really, really wants. 

And I would tell her that I am so proud of her; so proud of us. For making the move. For allowing that big external change to change her internally too. For not just surviving, but flourishing these last seven years.

And for facing the journey that continues with eyes — and a heart — wide open.

• Idea: What does the idea of a "7-year cycle" — or just the idea of life cycles generally — mean to you personally? How have you seen this concept play out in your life or in the lives of others? Do you believe in a pattern or rhythm to how we grow and change over time? Consider any parallels or repeating themes in your life that might relate to this concept, and reflect on what their repetitive nature may mean for your own growth and evolution.

• Anecdote: My mom was visiting over the weekend, and it was really special to share this anniversary with her! Without a doubt, the hardest part of leaving LA was leaving her behind and, on a regular basis, I still wish I could just drive over to her house to sit on the back patio and chat. I know I’m very lucky to still have her as close as I do (a three-hour flight really ain’t bad), but I’m especially proud of the decision I made all of those years ago because I was forced to grow without the immediate security I’d become accustomed to having her so close by. Having her acknowledge this milestone with me makes it so much more meaningful.

• Inspiration: “I don’t think we talk enough about the in betweens. The part when you know you want to change something but don’t yet know how, don’t yet feel strong enough, don’t yet know what your first step is. So to the people in the in between, please don’t be disheartened, please don’t give up. You’ve done the hard part, now just take it one small step at a time.” - Allyislia

Image via @by.allyislia