Retrospective 2022

The year after my mom died really sucked. I wasn't ready to experience grief like that. I wrote that December just how awful it was. This is the end of the year after my father's death. The grieving process has been totally different. In 2016, the year actually ended on an up note as I landed a job I liked, a gig with a local band I admired and started a relationship late in the year. I can't say the same for 2022. It pretty much sucked all the way through.

LOSING BOTH PARENTS
I'm 54 years old now. I was 53 when Dad died last year and 47 when Mom died in 2015. You'd think a man that age would deal with the loss with a bit of dignity, grace and maturity. But you're never really ready to become an orphan. I think that still strikes you, or surprises you, no matter your age. I've talked to other adults who've lost their parents recently, and have heard similar sentiments from them. It's like losing your sense of belonging, of family.

In my case, that was exacerbated last year by the bad behavior of some bad actors, namely two of my siblings, their spouses and offspring. I had to cut these toxic family members from my life. So, in effect, I really DID lose my family. And that was a slow process that really started in 2015 after Mom's death. We all began to realize, even Dad, that she was effectively the "glue holding this family together." Many of us said it exactly that way, thus the quotes. In the aftermath of her death, we drifted and the fabric that held us all together began unravelling. 

It's not that we loved our father any less, at least my baby sister and I didn't, but he's still not Mom...the glue.

So when I talk about feelings of orphanhood, that really goes to the heart of it. I lost pretty much all sense of family. I'd already drifted apart from Dad's family and Mom's is slowly dying. We lost her brother, my Uncle Gary Larson, earlier this year. A couple of months later, we lost my Great Aunt Ruth Dunning, who was the last member of my grandmother's generation to go. The additional losses this year did not help.

My hope was to turn the tragedy of last year into some sort of renewal for me. I got sidetracked. Instead of using my meager inheritance to start over and move in a positive direction, I got stuck. I blew through the inheritance and ended up staying for months at my sister's house in Indiana. I wanted to be just about anywhere else (not because of her, read on).

LOSING HOME
I've always been a proud Hoosier, proud of my heritage and proud to call Indiana my home state. That has waned over time. Though I've dug into my pioneer roots for a couple of decades, that sense of pride I once felt about being a bona fide Hoosier, like since the time of when that queer nickname was coined, has faded. This is tied in with losing my sense of belonging and of family.

For more than 200 years, my family has called Indiana home. Mom's ancestors were pioneers of Gibson County, one of Indiana's original counties since 1814. Dad's roots go deep in Vincennes, the once Territorial Capital and home to U.S. President William Henry Harrison. We have ties to George Rogers Clark and distant cousins who served his brother in the Corps of Discovery (i.e. Lewis & Clark Expedition). All these connections to the pioneer past gave me a deep sense of belonging to this Midwest frontier.

But now that my family is splintering and fading away, Indiana no longer has the feel of "home." My soul has been longing for my beach...the one devastated this year by Hurricane Ian (Sept. 28th).

The adage says "home is where the heart is." My heart was broken back in September, but Fort Myers Beach (FMB) is still my heartbeat.

If my adopted family there will have me back, I'm coming in 2023.

But all that loss--the loss of life, of family, of home--has made this possibly the worst year of my life. The feeling of being stuck in a place that no longer serves as home, hasn't helped. It only exacerbated my feeling of isolation, loss and uncertainty.

Some of my choices were not made in the best headspace. I was still grieving my father (and my mother, for that matter). I was grieving the loss of family. I was grieving the loss of "home" when the water swept away most of my second home, FMB.

Tragedy and loss has certainly marked (and marred) 2022, as a whole. There are no words that can express the depth of grief or levels of despair, anguish and personal turmoil. This year has definitely tested my patience, my resolve and my personal growth. My mental health has hung in the balance at many times...and I've wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear.

This is me being raw and vulnerable...maybe in a way I'm not all that much on this blog.

I don't hold a massive amount of hope for 2023, but as they say, "it has to get better." Right?

Still Growing at 54

There have only been two other posts this month. It's been a month of soul searching.

When I wrote my Hell 2.0 post in early October, I was in a dark place. I was resisting what was, ignoring the signs in front of me. "Don't go back to Fort Myers Beach," they seemed to be telling me. That's what my sister said and I just thought she didn't want me to go back without her. But for right now, there's nothing to go back to.

I knew I wasn't ready to leave the country. Belize could wait.

There's been something afoot in my spirit; something holding me at bay. It's a familiar feeling I began to have about this time last year.

At that time, I was certain my future was in Colorado. I possibly had housing awaiting me there. My daughters are there. A woman I'd been pining for was there. But I didn't leave. An old flame was rekindled. I stayed to see where that was going. As I wrote, from a dark place, still shut off from love, still bitter and angry, "Then, in a state of unwellness, I did the opposite and stayed in Indiana, rekindling what I believed to be an old flame," (Hell 2.0 post). That statement ended on a really vindictive note and I said something I now regret. It was hurtful and I was called out on it recently. I repented.

Two and a half months ago, I was ready to leave Indiana. Certain my immediate future included the beach and my friends there, I was thrown a curveball when Hurricane Ian made landfall on Sept. 28th. My plans put on hold again, like last year. But at the time, I couldn't even conceive that the "old flame," could possibly be the reason. There could potentially be unfinished business there.

REALLY?!?!

I thought I'd shut that chapter of my life for good.

Recently, a cousin in Evansville was describing a family member who shuts the door on those who hurt him and like a cup being drained of water, that person was done with whomever did the hurting. I seem to do the same thing--shut down and shut out. Just like pouring water from a cup, as my cousin put it, there's no water left. I thought there was no refilling it...ever.

That's a shitty way to live.

Where's the room for grace and mercy and forgiveness? What about "do unto others?"

Watching my baby sister grow and change, I realized there was still hope for this stubborn, curmudgeony, old man! Where I saw a weakness in my sister, giving those close to her MULTIPLE chances, I saw the opposite in myself. I reckoned I was stronger, more resolute with deeper conviction. I saw it as my strength. That was convoluted. I was stubborn, angry and hell-bent on holding the hostility, the grudge against those who hurt me.

Fate saw to it that I stayed put long enough to learn a valuable lesson.

And as life always does, it brought me back to humility.

See? Old dogs CAN still learn new tricks!

But I wanted to publicly apologize for what I said in my hurt back in October. I want to make right the wrong and be a better, more humble person.

I want to remain open to love, to be pliable, teachable and humble. Still growing...at 54.

HELL 2.0

That was the theme of my morning journal entry today, 12 Oct 2022.

Two-point-O, you ask?

Well, let me take you back to my blog post on the very last day of 2016, "Worst Year, EVER!" I'd call 2016 (technically the end of Nov 2015 through Oct 2016) "HELL 1.0!"

I lost my car and my license that year. I lost my job, then after a summer with my grieving father, it took me until the end of September 2016 to regain employment. That's when things finally began leveling off, but then I had to face the first anniversary of Mom's death over Thanksgiving Weekend. Needless to say, Thanksgiving is no longer a holiday for me. I could live without the reminder.

I don't remember 2017 being a whole lot better, then 2018 kinda sucked, until I moved back in with my girls post-Hurricane Michael in mid-October '18. Christmas was ok, though I think the girls spent the full two weeks out of school with their Mom in PCB. As I recall, 2019 was a blur with patches of homelessness, where I slept out on the street. That year ended with several of my friends struggling to kick flu-like symptoms FOR WEEKS (HELLO, COVID-19!!!), which our government tried to cover-up until the following Spring when the outbreak COULDN'T be ignored! So 2020 began with COVID, then George Floyd and racial unrest, but I was quarantined with my girls so the first half of that year sucked LESS than the previous four.

So why HELL 2.0 for the current year?

Well, let's back up to October 2021.

I get a call from my sister the morning of 4 Oct 21 that Dad's COVID-induced pneumonia seems to be letting up, he's breathing better than ever and seems to have turned a corner. He'd been hospitalized a few days with breathing difficulty. BUT by later that day, he nosedived and his condition was worse than before. That night, around 8:30, he was dead. "Turned the corner???"

Through the great kindness of a wonderful, new friend in Boulder, CO, I was able to fly home the following afternoon. Officially, the year of hell had begun.

We memorialized Dad, but not without major drama from some former siblings, one of whom I had to take to court to send a message. I'd rather not elaborate for fear I might throw this laptop out this second-story window!

By the time Christmas 2021 rolled around, I'd had enough. I was preparing my return to either Boulder or the beach. Then, in a state of unwellness, I did the opposite and stayed in Indiana, rekindling what I believed to be an old flame. Turns out, I was just horny.

That misstep led to FIVE MONTHS of misery. THAT's how my year, 2022, started. I was living in the trash heap of Evansville, IN, trying to make the best of it, pouring myself into genealogical research and visiting nearby family--that was the lone bright spot of the Winter/Spring 2022. But in that time, I burnt through most of my meager inheritance from Dad. I, again, had nothing--no car, no home...

I had to escape that frying pan for the fire at my sister's house. ABSOLUTE CHAOS!

I knew this about my sister's living situation, but what was I to do? Go immediately back to Boulder?

My relationship with my girls was already on life support...I don't know why, honestly. That left me no real reason to go back to Boulder...so BEACH it was!

Only my sister needed me...and begged me to come back and make some semblance of order out of her chaotic existence. It was above my paygrade. I failed. That's not a word that's been part of my lexicon much since 2001. I don't like it. I like even less to have to admit failure. But that's what 2022 has been--one after the other!

I was looking to escape to Fort Myers Beach as early as June of this year. I floundered, began struggling again with depression, barely able to grieve my father's death for MONTHS! I was miserable.

It's worth noting here that being ORPHANED, no matter your age, is no easy thing to wrestle or come to grips with. I turned 54 in September. I hate being an orphan!! I lost the parents who not only raised me, but we GREW UP TOGETHER! And to make matters worse, I have no reliable siblings now, either. I'm a man without a family. And since my girls have ghosted me--at 18 and 21--I really feel like a ship without a home and without a rudder.

I'm adrift...

Adding to that helpless feeling, my beach, the one I was to go back to in June, then August, then September? IT WAS DECIMATED BY HURRICANE IAN ON SEPT. 28TH!!! How's that for a kicker???

I was literally looking at transportation costs on the day of my birthday, exactly two weeks earlier, then Ian hit...OF ALL PLACES!!! FMB took the brunt of 12-15 feet of storm surge and brutal 100mph+ winds, sustained. The beach now lies in ruins. I had my best friends down there ride it out in their stilted home. It barely escaped destruction. Their business was not so lucky.

I still plan to go back there, but there is no water, no power and parts of the island are inaccessible due to massive piles of debris, downed trees and power lines. It could be a month before power is restored.

Yeah, this year (Oct 2021 - Present) has sucked JUST AS BAD as 2016!!!
I cannot imagine Hell being much worse.

Signed,
Rudderless in 2022