I Want My Old Friends Back

Happier times, on a visit to Tucson

It dawned on me the other night, right before falling asleep, that what I want is to have my friends back. My partner will read this, and believe it is her fault. My in-laws may think they are to blame. No one is guilty except, perhaps, myself, for not anticipating the loneliness I would feel after moving to a new town. Two-and-a-half years in, and I am still grieving. I truly am misplaced here.

My partner and I agreed to come to Leavenworth, Kansas, to spend quality time with her parents, while they are still healthy, and relatively young. We have dinner out with them, at local restaurants, almost every Saturday night. I’m happy to do that, though the conversations typically cover the funeral(s) of the week, and news of people Heidi may know from her childhood, but no one I have any connection to. I’m used to talking about broader topics, society at large. I rarely do that now because of differences in ideology.

Let me emphasize that I like my in-laws, and most of the extended family of my partner. The problem is that this is my entire universe now. We get back to Colorado once per year. I think it has been close to a decade since we last visited Cincinnati. We both have friends strung out around the globe, some of whom we only know through social media, but are anxious to meet IRL (in real life).

Funny, as an only child many friends in my youth were adults. Now that I am an adult, or at least pretending to be one, I find the need to be surrounded by young people, to keep up my energy and enthusiasm for life. Colorado was a perfect mix of both youth and age. Everyone is physically fit, highly engaged in community affairs and in national and international issues.

Leavenworth, by comparison, appears at least on the surface to skew heavily geriatric. Many people are overweight or otherwise unhealthy, and you seldom see smiles. There are children and teens, of course, but I rarely encounter them. The twenty-somethings I see are wait staff at the restaurants. Fort Leavenworth fairs better, and despite the military affiliation, I have met some nice families there thanks to a couple of events I’ve participated in. You need passes to get on post as a civilian, though, and it is not a daily or even weekly proposition.

All this is to say that I am not incentivized to cultivate new friends here. I am simply not interested. It would take energy I do not have because I am deflated by where I find myself. It is a perfect circular storm of sadness feeding itself.

I want my old friends back. They gave my life purpose that I am lacking now, and I fed off the energy they have. I learned things from them. I helped teach them in return. We shared both optimism and pessimism for the collective future. We made each other laugh.

Practically the only thing holding myself together is an obsession and compulsion to document all the animal species I can find on our modest little property. It is enough of a healthy distraction to keep me away from potentially self-destructive impulses.

In the cold months I struggle constantly. I have lost nearly all my creative energy, and seldom write. It is not that I have nothing to write about, but I am unmotivated to do the exercise of pressing the buttons on the keyboard. Translating thoughts to actions is too daunting.

I believe advice is unhelpful. My situation is something I will have to solve myself. Maybe I’ll need to spend a year somewhere else, on my own. Who knows? I only hope that I recognize the solution once it presents itself.

Misplaced Again

My wife and I are moving, from Colorado Springs, Colorado to Leavenworth, Kansas. I kid that we are moving to Leavenworth voluntarily, not as the result of incarceration, but the truth is that I am still not a willing participant. Her parents live there, and she wants to spend more time with them. I like my in-laws, so no problems there, but I also spent most of my adult life avoiding my own parents. Even now that both are deceased, I have zero interest in “going home” again.

Like most men, I don’t do well when I interpret a situation as one in which I have no choices. This is especially true when it comes to expenditures that are required for home and car repairs, insurance, medical costs, and other non-elective expenses. Having no choice can also apply to relocation when you either agree with your spouse’s decision or start looking for a divorce attorney. In no way do I “blame” my wife, but I see the window closing on a more optimal retirement scenario for us.

I would have preferred moving farther south, at least. The more I age the more intolerant I have become of extended periods of cold, or rollercoaster weeks like we have here in Colorado. At least we have plenty of sun. Meanwhile, Leavenworth is best known for prisons, the fort, and churches, three institutions that I largely abhor. Mostly, I want to live in a place that reflects my identity, my appreciation of, and dedication to, equality, justice, and inclusiveness.

Over the years we have accumulated far too many material goods, and purging them has been painful. Going through my own parents’ belongings, journals, and keepsakes, and discarding most of it, has left me feeling like I have betrayed them once again. At a visceral level I can’t help but think I am erasing their existence, rendering them invisible and irrelevant. I know that is not the case, but my entire childhood was one of denying that their tumultuous marriage, and eventual separation and divorce, had no impact on me. Then, as an adult, the PTSD asserted itself and I became a crusader for the rights of children of divorce.

The pictures, the household objects, they all symbolize the anger, the longing for stability and peace, and the resentment of the absence of anything resembling normalcy. In retrospect, neither my mother nor father were properly equipped to be parents. My mother did astoundingly well in spite of that, but she was overprotective. My father was just flat-out angry all the time, or on the verge of it. “Mamma’s boy” and “you’re just like your father” were not compliments, and I could not do right by one parent without insulting the other.

My wife put their cremated remains in the same suitcase. I thought they were already there, and was surprised they had not burst into flames all over again. Not funny, really, but they had no reverence for me, either. Yes, I am spiteful. I can be mean and hateful, though I am more aware of the triggers now.

What has been even more painful is what we cannot find in the course of cleaning and packing. The self-portrait in graphite that I did in college is nowhere to be seen. I am most devastated at losing my own creations. I already sacrificed my insect collection, an endeavor of forty-some years. It was the right thing to do, donating it to a museum where it will be properly cared for indefinitely and made available to scientists around the world. Still, I can’t point to it and say “I did that.” That is hugely demoralizing. Like most men, I don’t do well with intangibles, either. There is no observable value to them. My identity is closely tied to what I have produced, if only because that is what our society demands. We must demonstrate concretely our accomplishments. That can be a topic for another blog post.

What am I left with? Where, exactly, am I going, apart from a small town? Why is it not enough to be taking my person with me? Why do I assume I no longer have freedom, in any sense of the word? What do I have left to do, to be? Where would I rather be? When would I rather be? Who am I really, and how do I reconcile the past and the future?

We're Moving!

Well, the blog is staying put, actually, but the author is moving from Tucson, Arizona to Colorado Springs, Colorado next weekend. This blog will be on hiatus until he gets settled and hooked up with whatever internet provider serves his neighborhood there. Thank you in advance for your loyalty and patience. I am optimistic that I'll be back by mid-October, with the promise of more regular posts, too.

Moving (temporarily) to Massachusetts

Today I accepted a temporary position as a Laboratory Assistant at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. I will be sorting and identifying invertebrates from samples taken in an ongoing survey of forested watersheds, for a total of twenty-eight weeks beginning in late May or early June.

The project is a joint effort of the Department of Natural Resources Conservation at UMass, the Massachusetts Department of Environmental Protection, and the United States Environmental Protection Agency.

I am quite excited by this opportunity, but a bit apprehensive, too. I still have to find a place to live, for example. Any help in that department is most welcome. I don’t have enough time to pack-up all my belongings (including my large insect collection), so will be maintaining my Tucson residence while I am away. The “new economy” seems to translate to the “nomadic economy.” Lots of short-term work available in my field, but little permanent employment. I am still extremely grateful, mind you.

This blog and Bug Eric will be maintained as best as I am able in the coming weeks and months, but your patience is appreciated during the transition period. Oh, and feel free to recommend a good laptop, too, as it looks like I’m going to need to get one.