Sunday Open Mike: Empty Nest (OT)

I had a friend in high school who liked to say that various things kicked his ass. This girl, that homework assignment, his old man making him do chores—and after he said it he liked to laconically add: ...hard and repeatedly. A math test would not just kick his ass, but kick it "hard and repeatedly."

I gotta say, various things have been kickin' my ass hard and repeatedly lately. A mid-life crisis of epic proportions, which I probably ought to write about one Sunday...and empty nest syndrome.

Empty nest has been bad. And I never expected that. I've been alone for a while, and I thought I had this alone thing down. Before it happened, I was not scared of the empty nest thing at all. What, me worry? Being alone was a solved problem: I'm an introvert anyway, and I have friends, and I have relatives who I'm close to, and I'm not afraid to talk to people. And it's not like  a teenager in the house is really all that present anyway—you can't get them to hang up wet towels, much less talk to you about their lives. They come and go like loud messy ghosts, flitting in and out, their lives revolving around their friends and whatever pastimes they're into that month.

I was already alone, or so I thought, even with him here. I figured at worst, having him gone full-time would be, what? Ten percent worse.

Was that ever wrong. Not even in the ballpark. It was ten times worse, not ten percent.

I just wasn't prepared for it. I think even intact couples who've raise their children cooperatively have problems when the last bird flies. It's tough. Parenthood reprograms your brain; as a parent of a young child you're not just that same single person you always were only with babysitting responsiblities and, without knowing quite where it all came from, a bewildering amount of brightly-colored plastic crap lying around on the floors of your house all of a sudden. Some deep-down chemical switches get thrown in your brain and you turn into that being we all know as "parent"—ever alert, sometimes anxious, sometimes nagging, reflexively supportive, talking baby-talk and picking up your five-year-old's neologisms (which, ten years later, makes them think you're weird—which is highly unfair, since you got it from them in the first place), ready for problems and willing to do whatever is necessary to cope. The sudden removal of the impetus for that mindset can leave you feeling lost and purposeless. It's like you're suddenly free, but you're free of a job that you liked and wanted and that made you feel useful. You're released from a burden that wasn't burdensome. And if you happen to be single, it's really lonesome, turns out. Long and short, empty nest syndrome is kicking my ass...yes, hard and repeatedly. Ouch, ouch, and ouch.

Zander left for college again last week. He's about halfway through. He's in a great situation and I really couldn't be more pleased with the way the whole college thing is turning out for him. After waiting tables in high school and working blue-collar jobs for several years out of high school (changing oil 60 hours a week, unloading trucks at Target in the middle of the night, and making tiny steel springs endlessly at Wisconsin Coil Spring), he was 100% ready and plenty self-motivated for college. That's another tough one for parents—the realization that the motivation for success just has to come from them. And he's done very well so far, and is overflowing with confidence that he's going to do well this semester, too. He chose the college his girlfriend attends, and they're still together. That's them below, at our traditional off-to-school sushi dinner a few nights before they left. This semester, for the first time, he's living off campus, in a rental house with five of his best friends.

So he's exactly where he should be. I don't have to worry...and I don't. He's fine. He's right where he should be. What that means is that now I have to do something that I can't help but feel is strange and foreign and against the habits I've established with effort and attentiveness for more than two decades now: I have to figure out how to take care of me again, and start looking at how to make something good of the last decades of my own life. It might not be easy. It requires a little luck. Or maybe a lot.

Strange and foreign—but kind of exciting too. Life is an adventure after all, eh?

Mike

"Open Mike," which appears only but not always on Sundays, is the editorial page of TOP and often strays into off-topic reflections on various subjects.

Original contents copyright 2014 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

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(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Kirk Tuck: "Mike, we sent our final/only/wonderful teenager to college one week and a day ago and I've been depressed, disengaged and mopey ever since. He was a great student in high school and got recruited to a college 1,849 miles away from Austin, Texas. I thought I was prepared for the separation but no. Years of driving him to and from soccer, to and from cross country, to and from—you name it—gives you a lot of time to get to know your kid. For my sake I wish he'd stayed in Texas. For his sake I'm glad he followed his intuition and his dreams. Yes, we've already sent three separate boxes of stuff he needed (or we thought he needed) including (surprise!) Neckties and dress shirts. He's learning that in Austin 'formal' means slightly better footwear than sandals and a clean shirt with a collar. Much different in the Northeast.

"He had just a couple of preferences for a college, beyond academic reputation and credentials. It had to be out of Texas. It had to be in a 'blue state' and he was happy to find one without the football culture. Sadly, all of these parameters moved him about as far away from us as a kid can go and still be in the same country.

"The final heartbreak? I took him into the studio the last week he was here and offered him any camera he wanted to take along with him. Lenses too. He just shook his head and pulled out his iPhone. Sniff. Parental failure?

"Ah well, maybe he'll make it through life without the agonies of freelancing in the arts.

"My sympathies and empathy to you. I'm working on now finding out what I really want to do now that I'm grown up. I suspect we are not the only (older than average) fathers just now grappling with midlife crisis. I'm equally sure we'll muddle through."

David (partial comment): "We became empty nesters about 10 years ago. That transition was easy compared to the more recent transition to retirement."

Comments

[Grant]

I solved the empty nest problem. I seem to have an uncanny knack of befriending immature adults.

[Steve Rosenblum]

Maybe now that you have been professionally de-cluttered and organized, empty nested, and moved into a beautiful home a fine new companion will find her way into your life! I know....not something you can make happen, but, I've got a good feeling about this!

[John Holmes]

Maybe you have a female photographer viewer with similar feelings.

[Andrew John]

But Mike, you HAVE started to take care of your own life. Your move is the proof. I wish you just a little luck, the rest will come from you.

[David]

"...It's like you're suddenly free, but you're free of a job that you liked and wanted and that made you feel useful..."

"...and start looking at how to make something good of the last decades of my own life..."

Oh, wait! I thought you were talking about retirement!

Joking aside -- we became empty nesters about 10 years ago. That transition was easy compared to the more recent transition to retirement.

David

[Jim Bullard]

In a traditional (but probably fanciful) America children grew up, got married lived no more than an hour away and had grandchildren that we parents could dote over. Then there is reality. Too many years ago for my taste our son emailed me from his first job (6-7 hours away) and said he was torn, he had an offer of an interview for his dream job working for New World Software. His current job was boring but relatively near while New World was all the way across the country in California. Reluctantly I advised him to go for it. He didn't own a home and had no children. If he wanted to chase a dream, now was the time. The alternative was for him to stay in the boring job and wonder when he was 40 or 50 "what if I had...". He went. Years later he ended up in Austin (the opposite of Kirk and his son). You never stop missing them but on the other hand it resulted in my going places and doing things I likely never would have otherwise just like his birth did. His dream didn't work out entirely as he envisioned (dreams never do) but he's done well. Roll with it guys. Life is what happens while you are planning other things. :-)

[Jim Hart]

"...A mid-life crisis of epic proportions..."

It's a crisis if you opt for the Miata. To get to epic proportions you've got to opt for the Corvette.

I remember how I felt when the last of our three kids graduated high school and (like his brothers) joined the military...

Come to think of it...I wonder if I can still do back flips and cartwheels down the front walk?

Regards,

Jim

[Dan Gorman]

Mike, the sadness and emptiness you're feeling now are directly proportional to the emotional and psychological investment you made in being a father. Your pain as you make this transition is evidence of a tough job done the right way, and it will pass.

My own empty nest is still three years away, and I'm heading for that cliff with my foot through the floorboard - I know I'll crash and burn when that time comes, but please, don't anybody cry for me. I've had 20+ years of joy and laughter (along with the standard issue work and worry), and the deepest possible satisfaction in seeing where my kids are now, and where they're headed.

By the evidence of your blog, you're right where you should be, and headed to a very good place. The new quarters are going to make day-to-day life much more commodious, you've figured out how to make a solid living doing what you love, and you have a job you can keep doing as long as you enjoy it.

Hard work has a way of paying off (and a little bit of luck doesn't hurt either).

Cheers,
Dan

[Cateto/Jose]

I hear you, Mike.

At the moment, we (me and my wife) have four "kids" (not really, but still) at home: three daughters (the elder, 15, and twins of 12) and a son (13). Our life has been, as you can imagine, not boring at all since they were born.

I have read, and heard, about the empty nest syndrome from some friends. And I try to get prepared for it in a few years, although I know from experience that you never learn things like this: it's like having your first son. No matter how many friends had their first son, or how many people in your family: your first son blows your life upside down and everything changes.

I guess we will have to deal with the empty nest the same way. And I just hope to move forward the better we can, although I'm afraid we will have "our asses kicke, hard and repeatedly". And then enjoy the spectacle of those tiny little babies who seemingly were born yesterday… but are on the verge of living their own lives.

But this is life… we can't press the "pause" button. Furthermore: fortunately, we can't press the "pause" button.

There is only rule I have learned in my 47 years:

carpe diem.

[Paul Byrnes]

To quote Sam Beckett: 'I can't on on, I'll go on.'
To quote Fred Astaire: 'Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, start all over again.' Or was that Cole Porter?
What choice do we have? I spent yesterday looking at the work of some great photographers in the Visa Pour L'Image festival in Perpignan, three of whom are now dead.
Do your work. Love someone. That's it.
His ship is afloat and sailing, Mike. More power to you.
Best (philosophically)
PB

[Mim]

The adjustment is hard, especially as a single parent. You become a very tight-knit little unit, and then half (or in my case, two thirds) of that unit just up and leaves. For me it's been in stages - one son, then the other left.

Like you, I knew it was the natural way of things, and they were (and are) doing fine. I moved house, got settled, found some routine on my own and started to work out what I wanted from the rest of my life.

But in this day and age they're kangaroo kids - son number one moved back in (with his wife!) and it's been great having them underfoot the last two years. Now they're talking about leaving again and will be several hours away this time. It'll be good for them but I'm not looking forward to re-adjusting - AGAIN.

[Ernie Van Veen]

I'm empathising with you from 'downunder'. I live at Jervis Bay and I have one son in Canada, one in Melbourne and another in Sydney (now married). I still have my wife (I'm neither bragging nor complaining), and the dog, but there is a big gap in my life. I've found that FaceTime and Skype are a big help. Just seeing those faces and chatting for 15 or 20 minutes each week or so, like we're having a coffee together, makes a huge difference. And, of course, we don't have to deal with the putrefying cereal bowls and wet towels on the floor - that's always a bonus. No, really...

[Bob Smith]

Mike, this is one of those posts that make me stop half way through and think "man you are a damn fine writer".

I went through a chopped up empty nest situation years ago, there was divorce, distance separation etc. The hole that was there filled up eventually (my daughter is 37 now and I have two grand kids).It won't be easy but it will for you too.

We have had a niece and nephew living next door to us for the last 21 years, surrogate kids. Emily away now for college and Alexx is away for skills training (He survived a seven year battle with brain cancer but stopped growing developmentally at age 9) so its like a mini empty nest smack.

The real killer for us right now is knowing we are facing the loss of our old cat Bogart in a few years. That thought is actually choking me up when I think about it more than Alex and Emily being gone from our day to day lives. I guess it's because I know they'll be around for holidays etc. but there ain't going to be another Bogart. His passing is going to leave a huge hole in our day to day lives. A cat who greets us at the front door with a leap, follows us aroud like a puppy and will herd us in to bed at night so he can sleep with both sets of paws touching each of us. For the first time in my life I can't imagine another cat taking the previous cats place. Damn.

I guess there are all kinds of empty nests when you love people and pets.

Cheers

[Michael Perini]

Mike,
A lot of change, all at once. You wouldn't be normal if it didn't have an effect.
Organized, empty nest. new spacious home /office that eliminates many reasons why you can't do this or that.
It's a LOT of change. But every one of them is a laudable goal achieved. You deserve a lot of credit--as my late and wise Mother -in -law used to say "Give yourself a Hug" or a pat on the back.
You did all this while doing a lot of good for me and many others.

The secret now is a new lofty set of aspirations in which to immerse yourself. It's writing, it's just a new chapter. The last chapter was great , this one will be even better.
Great good luck,
Michael
PS You have your own bathroom !
Count your Blessings every day.

[Tom Swoboda]

We have been empty nesters for eight years and retired for six years. This winter will be my wife's fifth as a snowbird. When my wife is here I really prefer it when we are in the same room of our large house even if not engaged in conversation. When she is gone for the winter I quickly adjust and enjoy my own company as the true introvert I am in our rural house without nearby neighbors. When the wife comes home in the spring I just readjust to the pleasure of her company. I make best of whatever the current situation is. I've never been so happy but do wish I could see our children and grandchildren a little more often.

[Charles Lanteigne]

Speaking of Xander... You'll have to give us an update on his Summer Job!

[Joel Bartlett]

Having read your posts over the summer, I'd say the new dog, the new house, and the disruption of the move are pretty big factors too. Similar surroundings helped when Zander went back to school last year... Time to make the T.O.P. World Headquarters your space.

[HT]

Probably the toughest lesson of parenting: if you've done a good job, then they won't need you anymore. Maybe it would help to remember that the goal all along was a happy and independent child.

[Richard Alan Fox]

I first became a father (twins) at age fifty-two.

I retired at age sixty-two.

Now at sixty-five I have a son and daughter twelve years of age entering the seventh grade, and I have never been happier.

[Clyde]

While you're at it, why don't you give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it? My youngest daughter just went off to college two weeks ago, and my wife and I are alone for the first time in 23 years.

I recall long ago when life was all about me. Now it's all about them, but they're all somewhere else. I think I'm going to go sit with the dog for a bit.

[MHMG]

Mike,

Don't underestimate the fact that, if I understand correctly, you have also just left the home where the bulk of that parenting took place. It's makes for kind of a double whammy at the present time.

Three of my four have now flown the nest. Our last one here, Matthew, will be with us for as long as we can parent him while our own health permits. He is our much loved child, now adult son, with special needs, So, I'm not sure I will ever totally feel the empty nest syndrome, but I sure agree with David's comments about retirement. I retired by circumstances not by choice from a wonderful career that now seems like ancient history. It has taken me close to two years to begin to sense that a renewed purpose is beginning to return to my life.

Hang in there Mike. It really does get better.

cheers,
Mark

[Gary]

Oh bother.
My kids are 10 and 8 and 5 and 5* and you've got me fretting and worried already....
(*twins)

[Peter]

My children are both in their mid/upper 40's and I have six grandchildren, all living within four blocks of me. The proximity is nice, but also burdensome in that we are sometimes too involved in their lives.I was relatively young when both finished college and grad school and had to work at a very demanding and travel loaded job for another 10-12 years after that (my first grandchild was born while I was in the air trying to get back in time, from Asia).
I was able to "find my (new) self" until I retired and realized that years of responsibility were lifted and I could think/act differently without guilt. I wouldn't change anything that had passed, but I really like life as it is today.

[John Ironside]

One of our two children lives nearby and we can meet whenever his job and inclinations allows a match with our gentler (retirement) timetables. The other, sadly for us, lives with her husband and our entire stock of grandchildren near Seattle, a long way from England.

It's the best place for his work, and a good place to live and visit, but the experience of missing them has given me a new sympathy for both migrants and their distant relatives.

[Tim]

I really enjoy these more personal posts. I started reading TOP several years ago when I was taking a lot more pictures, but it is the quality and voice of the writing, the thoughtfulness, and the ongoing story of your life that has kept me reading. Thanks.

[Rob Rogers]

Mike,

You might not realize this but you've done a great service to dads with this post. They'll be just a little more prepared for the day their kids move on, and maybe appreciate having them home a little more.

My wife and I sent our oldest off to college in '98 and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I moped around for weeks. Sending the second one off wasn't much easier. You see, nobody prepares you for this. There are secular and religious rituals before marriage and birth, but this hit comes out of nowhere.

The good news, as I learned, is that, no matter what it feels like now, the relationship isn't over, it's just different. You are still his father. Somebody's still going to call you "dad", which is really the sweetest title you'll have till "grandpa".

[Mike Plews]

Been through this and it is a painful but necessary part of life.
No parent of a teenager believes it but while they are busy not talking to you beyond the occasional grunt they are also watching very closely as you model adult behavior for them.
Now your son is out there getting a daily reminder of how big a part of his life you actually are, not were. He is also learning how to function as an independent adult.
My experience is that as you move into this new phase of your lives your relationship with Zander is going to deepen.
That said it all the quiet in the house hurts.

[Ben]

I love TOP, it's my favorite photography blog, and possibly my favorite blog I follow all together (and I follow a lot). But your initial story of ending up a father at last minute notice is the post that has stuck with me the most. I loved it, so powerful, and I always enjoy reading updates about your son and being a father.

I'm about to be a father for the first time myself, and luckily I have a husband, and your story definitely served as an inspiration to me of what kind of father I would like to become.

[Godfrey]

Never had children myself, but the love and angst I read from your and Kirk Tuck's blogs is touching. I remember my mother going through this stoically as each of us departed.

You'll get through it. All parents do. And bravo for the great job you've done in bringing a fine new young man into the world.

Fill your new home with that sense of love and accomplishment.

[Dennis Ng]

Just sent my boy to Scotland to study medicine and on the way back to Hong Kong. Well, the most worry now is what happen if it is a yes.

[Mani Sitaraman]

'If the law supposes that,' said Mr. Bumble, squeezing his hat emphatically in both hands, 'the law is a ass—a idiot.'

from 'Oliver Twist' by Charles Dickens.