Tonight I spent the better part of two hours looking for jobs…. in particular giving very serious consideration to one specific job. It’s a CEO position for a smaller United Way in Grand Junction, Colorado. I assume everybody does what I do when they consider a job – they try to envision their life in that role and in that geography. Though perhaps not many people move from their home base, so maybe they don’t do this – I don’t know. I tend to look up home prices and neighborhoods and scenery – see if I can create a vision. The prospect of another big move gives me something close to heart palpitations – and I haven’t even applied. Based on my job search a year ago, I think I have a decent shot of landing the interview – the jobs in St. Louis, Houston, Winston-Salem, Greensboro, and Jackson were all United Way jobs. Having worked in nearly every department of the organization and having spearheaded my United Way’s transition to a different funding model, I can speak the language well enough to get to a second or third round.
My hesitation has little to do with the actual job – I think I’d be great at it. I’m stuck on whether or not I have the balls to move to the middle of nowhere. As much as I dream about the quiet bliss of a country house in the mountains and morning coffee on the proch (and the area around Grand Junction looks gorgeous), I suppose I always imagined there would be someone there with me to share in that. And if I’m being honest, it’s someone to make it a little less lonely – or share in the solitude and struggle – if that makes sense. Going it alone, I think of Jack Kerouac in Dharma Bums. This is the crux of the emotional dilemma. Psychology says that strong, secure people do for themselves what they would do in a relationship. They travel, they buy houses, they move, they switch jobs, and they live life. So, why does the prospect of moving to a small town in Colorado have more appeal to me with someone than without? It seems like a great place to settle in, just not alone. Maybe I’m just not that secure.
Maybe I “need” the comfort of a “we got this” approach. There was a brief period, after my daughter went away to school, when I had hoped my wife and I might consider moving away. It seemed like maybe the two of us could have used a new start – a chance to build a different type of life together – one that broke from the foundations of routine and the familiar. With my ex-fiancee, I was convinced we could have gone anywhere and done anything…. that we would have each other’s back, that we were stronger as a couple than we were as individuals. I think all major life decisions seem a little easier with a partner weighing in and walking with you. All this time, I’ve been practicing being alone, building up new muscles only to realize the big decisions are still really difficult and send me emotionally scurrying back to wanting the support and security of a committed partner.
I felt a very similar hesitation when I was a finalist for the job in Jackson, TN. Part of me was afraid of getting the job. There isn’t much in Jackson. It’s a small town with a population of under 70k and not much of a town center. The CEO I was going to replace was elected Mayor – shortly after, his wife was charged with shoplifting at Walmart… the whole thing scared me a bit. The agnostic outsider from the city in rural bible belt Tennessee. The population in Grand Junction is 63k – even smaller. And while Jackson is about 90 minutes from both Memphis and Nashville, Grand Junction is 4 hours from Denver and 4.5 hours to Salt Lake City.
I’m also a little gun shy about both the commitment to the place and possibly failing. Moving to Memphis was a risk for me – I had never left Bucks County (other than for college). It was hard – all of it, the decision, the selling the house, the moving, the learning a new city – all of it. I didn’t know a single person here. I didn’t realize the mental toll, the exhaustion, that was involved with everything being new (job, friends, place, culture). I remember being impressed by my ex’s fortitude, gumption, strength to be able to move all the way across the country on her own. To drive the big truck, to learn a new city and new job. And while I was impressed by it – I didn’t give her nearly enough credit for it. I couldn’t relate to it (other than the generic pain in the ass of moving). Doing all of those things, making all of those adjustments, especially on your own, is so much harder than a normal move. Sure, there’s some excitement over the newness, but more often than not, it’s borderline traumatic, and at the very least tiring.
I didn’t expect for it not to work down here. I didn’t expect for it to happen so quickly or to be in a city where I have no network and only myself as the safety net. But at least in a city there are usually more options and opportunities (for friends and jobs) as well as more escape routes. If things don’t work in the middle of nowhere, you’re a little more stuck. That also scares me.
Of course, I’m getting ahead of myself (I haven’t even applied). I stopped to write about it because the feelings seem worth exploring. This sensation of wanting, almost needing, that support that only a partner can provide. The opposition in the sense that running off with your person seems like an exciting adventure while running off on your own, feels like an extreme form of social distancing, a withdrawing of sorts. I don’t know how else to explain it. Sometimes I wish I were a little more like those rugged individuals who travel the world and blaze their own trail. The ones who seem to have dozens of interesting friends and bask in their fearless exploration of freedom. My ex-wife had a friend like that, Margaret. She was interesting and had lots of stories. She’s lived in numerous cities in different countries. No kids, never married – she does what she wants and seems to love it. I know a guy from back home who has recently adopted that lifestyle too. As best as I can tell, he got divorced a couple of years ago – doesn’t have primary custody of his daughter. He stays rooted in the Philly area, but goes to things like Burning Man and Awesome Fest and travels around with beautiful people unencumbered. I don’t think I could pull it off, constantly chasing the sun. I love adventure, I just prefer to share it with an amazingly deep connection. I prefer to have a place to call home, a base of operations where the normal can also feel extraordinary, and the extraordinary is the sublime.
I’ll apply in the morning. I’ve already drafted the cover letter. There’s a similar job in Billings, MT – I should probably go for that one too. I may not even get a call, and if I do, I could use the interview practice, and if it goes beyond that… well, I suppose I’ll learn a little bit more about what I’m made of and what I’m afraid of.