The Little Prince and the Fox

As much as I love coastal California — an area of the world where I spent the past six years of my life by my own choice, because I wanted to live there so badly — it feels so refreshing to be away from there! 

I hate generalizing and I usually avoid doing it and try to be very careful when I do draw “blanket” conclusions about people or places or situations… But I think there’s something very stifling or maybe somewhat “artificial” or too “tame” about coastal-big-town California. I’m not able to pin-point it or explain it clearly in words, yet: it’s still just a feeling but it’s a sensation that has been growing on me for a while now, probably even before last summer and that trip in Colorado. 

On a very personal level, the deepest connections and friendships I’ve made during the past six years living in coastal California have been, indeed, with persons who aren’t originally from there (apart from only one or two notable exceptions): they’re all, like me, people who have lived in several parts of the world and chosen to move to that part of California, at least temporarily, for specific professional and/or personal reasons. So they’re all people who have grown up and experienced environments and realities that are very different from coastal-big-town California: maybe “tougher” than that part of California, if I could summarize it in just one word. 

Maybe it’s the lack of winter, since coastal California really only has three seasons (spring, summer, autumn)? [I am fascinated by, and partly agree with, Montesquieu’s theory of how climate/environment shapes people and cultures.] Or maybe it’s too much wealth? Or wealth spread too unevenly? Or “too much of a good thing”, as one of my older friends/mentors, who’s originally from the East Coast, put it?!?

I’m not sure, yet, what it is exactly, but getting away feels really good: a change I definitely needed now.

Despite the long tiring day driving in winter conditions that I had long forgotten, I feel refreshed and still liberated and empowered by this move, this step, this decision. At least for now. 

Two days and nearly 800 miles of travel and I can already feel the benefits of this move, the “high” from being on the road. 

Leaving the place where I spent the past 4-5 years of my life yesterday felt like I was tearing myself away almost against my will and for the first few miles I felt so sad that a knot blocked my throat and I kept thinking to myself, “This is only temporary: I can come back if I want to, whenever I want to”. 

I finally got started at noon yesterday so I got to my first destination after dark and exhausted from a long trip in a mostly boring landscape — densely inhabited and/or empty flat central California — boy, that State is HUGE! 

The quiet place I had booked for the night, outside of a small town, almost in the middle of nowhere, though, made up for it: the cold, crips air felt so pure last night and the starry sky with a dim Milky Way was a pleasant reminder of nights spent camping or backpacking. 

I woke up refreshed, full of energy and in a good mood this morning, ready to go, to embrace the road, this new adventure, and life in general. 

The landscape was mostly still boring, still huge California and then, finally, Nevada, which was almost worse — and the traffic jam through Las Vegas, made worse by a car crash, was hellish. But these were only tiny blips in an overall wonderful, amazing day. Even the hour sitting in traffic through Las Vegas was somehow good because it reinforced my sense of resilience, of what I can truly tolerate and do and achieve. 

Overall I feel so empowered, so strong, so hopeful again. Even the trip through the boring landscape was positive: with my favorite music playing as loud as I wanted in the background, I could let my feelings and thoughts flow at their own leisure. And most of what came up was similar to what had started to surface during my travels to/in/from Colorado last summer, but much more clear and intense and powerful this time: the feeling of being a boy and of wanting the world to see me as such. The idea of getting my name and gender legally changed came back with an urgency that was almost unbearable. And then even newer thoughts, at first almost a question of curiosity: how would I look with facial hair? I then discarded this idea but realized that my desire to have no breasts at all, to get rid of even the tiny tits I have, has become extremely intense. 

I have never cared about my breasts, I never used them to “enhance my looks”, I never even used bras until society in some way or other forced me into thinking about my breasts. I wear sports bras and female swim-suits only for practical reasons; but at the beach I’ve always tried to find ways to be topless. And today as I was driving through barren south-eastern California I pictured myself bare-chested, really freely bare-chested: i.e. bare-chested in a totally “socially acceptable way” by being completely flat-chested. To be allowed to swim bare-chested only wearing “Speedos” at the pool; to run and climb and work out bare-chested at the gym when it’s hot; to have a completely flat chest no matter what I wear. And yes, that image felt so wonderful, so liberating, and especially so “wholly me”: that’s how I would really like to be, to look, if I could. 

Then, traffic jam through Las Vegas… okay, survival mode while I try not to think how hungry I am and that I have to pee… But afterwards, refreshed by a pit-stop and snack, I finally started on the last leg of today’s trip, a little over an hour long — and the most beautiful of these past two days. 

Here I am, over six hours on the road, heading into the evening, with Meredith Brooks’s album “Deconstruction” blasting in my car to keep me going. And suddenly the barren Nevada desert specked with horrible urban conglomerates gives way to a rocky canyon turning more and more beautiful as the road winds its way through it. We’re nearing sunset, the sky is turning yellow, orange, pink, tinting the few clouds violet, but the best is yet to come: there, all of a sudden, the canyon wall right ahead of me bursts into red-golden flames. 

I get into the right lane of I-15 N so I can drive a little slower and just soak it all in. 

Meredith Brooks’s song “Sin city” is playing now, one of my favorites, and perfect for this moment — on “repeat”. I don’t know if it’s adrenaline, endorphins, or dopamine flooding my system, but I’m feeling high like on some of my best “runner’s highs” — flooded by real synesthesia: I’m feeling colors, seeing sounds, soaring through the sky. The canyon gets more and more beautiful at every turn as dusk flushes everything in pastel hues spotted with flames. And then, at last, as the canyon opens up to wider land, I turn my head North-West and see them: the snow-capped mountains. WOW.

The whole of me — body, mind, and soul — was flooded with a sense of awe so engulfing that all I could do was look and think, “This is so beautiful”! 

And I’m still feeling it now, more than two hours later and close to bedtime: the awe, the joy, the lightness (or “unburdenedness”), the freedom, the empowerment, the power and hope and potential of having a new road ahead of me — literally as well as figuratively — open, open, open.

Wide open. 

My place is almost completely empty now, after having taken most of my stuff to a storage unit yesterday and to Goodwill today. 

It feels weirdly fun and liberating to live in such a minimalistic way… 

Just a couple more nights here… I’ve been sleeping with the shades on my windows open to enjoy this place — the starry or cloudy sky, the full moon, the gentle sunrise — as much as possible, to soak it all in before leaving. 

More Goodbyes today: I went to my office on campus and to my climbing gym for the last time (at least until next summer or autumn, when I might have to go back, either to resume my activities there or to retrieve even my last belongings). 

With my move and the change so close in view now, both campus and the gym were less triggering than they used to be. Actually, I felt full of a positive, optimistic, tranquil resolution: that if I do come back to live & work here, I’ll do it only if I really want to; and if so, I want to do it free of trauma — like I used to pre-pandemic. 

I also said Goodbye to another good friend this evening, right after enjoying another sunset at the beach: a friend (physicist & teacher, as well) that I made during the pandemic. A meaningful Goodbye because he knows and understands very well the reasons of my current move…  

And now, time for self-care. After all these important Goodbyes and with the upcoming trip looming so close and several practical things still needing to be done, it’s time for some self-care tonight. 

Yesterday I had a wonderful day — perfect for “my anniversary of liberation”: the right amount of packing and organizing for my move, with feelings of satisfaction and eagerness to go; a wonderful long run on my favorite trail with absolutely gorgeous weather and beautiful views; dinner with a friend (& some help from him for my move); a lovely walk to the beach after dinner, just to enjoy one of my last evenings here — at least for a while.

I went to bed feeling happy, free but surrounded by friendship & love, eager to take my next step. 

This morning the weather would be perfect for a run again, but I cannot go because the movers are coming to take my stuff to the storage unit. So I’m a little fidgety from the lack of exercise. 

I’m looking forward to getting all these boxes out of my place, to “declutter”, and then to hit the road on Sunday — I’ve already booked a place to stay the first night of my travels! 

But I’m also very scared of the loneliness I might incur. 

When I get to Colorado next week, my host family will still be away, one of my friends from last summer will have just moved to New York for his new job, and the nextdoor-neighbors who are close friends of my host family will be away on a trip. 

So apart from a couple friends in a neighboring town, I’ll be completely alone the day I arrive in Colorado and for the first whole week there. 

Although one of my main reasons for taking this step and moving to Colorado now is to have a break from things here, to think and reflect and write my book more freely, in solitude, I’m nevertheless afraid of the loneliness I might feel. 

I’m also afraid of losing the friendships I’ve made here, especially the more recent ones (mainly my climbing buddies). These friendships are super fun and have been a wonderful change for me compared to the first three or four years here. But they’re also recent friendships, still fresh and maybe not deep enough to survive the geographical distance… What if I decide to come back and settle in California again next summer or autumn and these climbing buddies have forgotten me? 

“Six years ago, hope was nothing much 

Waking up to a stranger’s touch 

I gave up a lot just to be free

But my good friends hung on to me”

Today is what I call the “anniversary of my liberation”: six years ago, I got on a plane with two suitcases (and a few boxes of belongings on their way in a container ship), leaving everything (job, apartment, partner of seven years, etc.) behind in Europe, moving to California and following my dream of a lifetime. 

It was scary and very painful but the desire and need to get away, the eagerness to follow my dreams at last were stronger and overshadowed everything else — fortunately. 

To date, I still see that as the best (albeit possibly the hardest) decision of my life. And that’s why I’ve been celebrating this anniversary ever since, making the best I can of this date every year. 

Today, I’ll celebrate by enjoying the sunshine and focusing on the positive aspects/feelings of my upcoming move to Colorado. 

I’ll go on my long weekly trail run on my favorite trail. 

I’ll pack boxes with a sense of care and joy, with the idea of unburdening myself for some time while also treasuring and taking care of the things I love and want to keep. 

I’ll go see the sunset at the beach and then have a hearty dinner and relaxing evening, possibly with a friend visiting, otherwise planning the nice parts of my upcoming trip. 

Another big upcoming move, almost exactly six years after my life-changing move..! 

But also, I am leaving here because I have the wonderful opportunity to spend a few months in a beautiful place that I love, living rent-free with friends (instead of alone and feeling lonely as I do here) while also having plenty of space & time for myself. 

That’s hard to beat! 

So as scary as this choice may be now, it is a free choice: frightening but also empowering. And if nothing else, it’s a nice break and a breath of fresh air!

Why am I leaving here? 

This question has been popping into my mind quite often in the past few days. 

The nice, sunny & mild weather, the gorgeous sunsets over the ocean and the walks at the beach; the ocean in the full moon — and being able to enjoy most of these with friends and with one close friend in particular; all the friends and acquaintances and climbing buddies I have here, whose affection and love or, at least, sincere enjoyment in having me around, I can now see & feel so clearly; even my boss’s coming around and showing how much I’m valued at my job… Why am I leaving all this? 

I’m so scared of regretting this move, of losing so much that I have built and found here, of not finding it again in another place or even here if I decide to return here… 

So why am I leaving, despite this fear and despite all these positive, even wonderful aspects? 

I am leaving because I am still burned out by my job and in need of growth in ways that my current professional position cannot provide me without a change of some kind — and what change precisely I need to find out, even by moving away. 

I am leaving because I need to understand what my true motivation or drive or dreams in life are: what career do I really want and why? Do I really want to teach, and if so, why? Do I really want to do more research, and if so, why? 

I am leaving because I need to step away from this particular school that triggers so much in me, often stirring emotions too intense for me to function in a healthy, sustainable way. 

I am leaving in order to finally leave behind me certain aspects and persons from the last chunk of 2-3 years here. 

I am leaving so I can finally stop looking for a certain person and a particular white pick-up truck at the climbing gym. 

I am leaving so I can admire the sunsets, walk at the beach and in the park, go bouldering outdoors wholly enjoying those places and moments for myself and with true friends who are present in my life now, without being haunted by a ghost. 

I am leaving so I can understand how much I truly love this place, or not, and why. 

I am leaving in order to allow myself to fall in love freely & unburdened again, to fall in love with places (old & new) and people and experiences. 

Although I don’t necessarily have to, I am leaving because I choose to do so now.

There’s a song by Bruce Springsteen called “The long goodbye”. This is one of the few songs whose lyrics I don’t know — I cannot even remember the topic of it. But I can hear the music in my head and the title resonates with my feelings in this moment. 

This is maybe the hardest part of my move: when I’m neither really here anymore nor there yet. 

When my place is starting to get cluttered with packed (and some half-packed) boxes but there’s also still stuff I’m using daily and will have to pack last-minute, which makes me feel like I have a scattered brain. 

And then, there’s the “Goodbye’s” with friends… I had three of them yesterday, two of which with very good, close friends. 

One visited me for lunch and we pic-nicked outdoors with her two daughters (to be COVID-safe) while they also tried on various clothes and items that I was giving away: the two little girls took several of my things, and I’m very happy to know they’ll be wearing and enjoying them. I’ll probably see them again next summer — in the meantime, this spring, I’ll miss the older daughter’s birthday… Later my friend texted me, “[…] my heart hurts […]” and I don’t know if she meant because of my moving away or other reasons… 

My other good friend visited me for dinner last night — my artist friend who lately coined the term “sproutiness” for my mood, which I like so much. And it was such a lovely evening with them, talking for nearly four hours non-stop! 

Between this evening and next Thursday or Friday, I’ll be seeing several other good friends, and then I’ll finally head out. 

I’m also starting to realize that these are going to be my last walks at the beach, my last runs on these trails, my last sprees at the Sunday Farmers Market around the corner, at least for six months… 

I think that I’m finally starting to truly realize how much I’ve built and got here by seeing how much I’m going to leave behind. 

The good news is that I can come back to this place, if I want to — people and relationships might have changed by then (and I guess that’s what scares me the most now), but I can come back, if I want to. 

But that’s six months from now. 

For the moment, focus on the here&now: the practical aspects of my move; the trip itself; the new adventure; the very-much-needed break; and the “long goodbye’s”.

Sunset. For the remainder of today I’m going to relax and celebrate in a quiet, cozy way. 

So much has happened in the past two or three weeks. Several intense and extremely painful incidents that reopened old wounds and/or triggered trauma. But in the end also — and probably especially — positive outcomes. Several important issues in my life, professional and practical as well as personal, have found a resolution, offering me a much brighter outlook on the next months and even year(s). And at a deep emotional level, in the past couple weeks, I have been experiencing growth and changes so intense and radical that they feel like a “Copernican revolution of the soul”. 

In the past week I feel like I’ve matured or grown emotionally by a whole decade — in a positive sense. And I’m still reeling from it. It somehow feels so scary. Somehow I’m better at — or feel more comfortable with — dealing with struggles and problems than with things going smoothly or my “wishes coming true”. It’s as if I were constantly in “problem-solver mode” or as if the phrase “be careful what you wish for — it might actually happen” were always haunting me… 

I guess I have a constant underlying fear of not deserving or of jinxing things when they go the way I was hoping… 

Why?

This morning, my friend’s image of “sproutiness” is more vivid and appropriate than ever. And what makes it even lovelier is that today it’s connected not only to myself but also to this person I’ve been getting close with in the past five months or so: the non-binary climbing buddy who’s become a very dear friend and whom I like in ways that I’ve never experienced before. 

The feeling of “sproutiness” and shiny hope connected to this particular relationship is due to the fact that for the first time in years I am, at last, feeling some “special”, deeper connection or attraction to a person who isn’t in some way a priori “unavailable”. 

Whether the friendship with this particular person gets stronger or weaker with to my move to Colorado, whether it remains platonic or turns into something also romantic/physical/sexual, I have no idea, and at this point doesn’t really matter. Of course, I hope we won’t lose touch when I move to Colorado — I hope our friendship can continue to blossom despite the geographical distance or practical obstacles. I will always treasure this friendship, the experiences I’ve been having with this person since this past August and feel fortunate for having met them, particularly at this time of my life (for many reasons!). 

This already is wonderful and huge. But on top of it, I also see — I feel deeply inside me and see clearly — that I am acting and relating differently with this person than with other people to whom I’ve felt attracted in the past years: I’m acting and relating in a much healthier way. And it’s partly thanks to them, to their maturity, to their availability, to their being “ready/available” for closeness without being needy; but it’s also partly due to my own growth and to the corners I’ve decided to turn. 

This is wonderful and feels so good!

Now I know how I want a partner relationship to feel for me, if I ever have one again.

I want it to feel like this relationship with this non-binary climbing friend: being adventure buddies and sharing lots of different fun activities together but also leaving each other space; having closeness and accountability without being stifling or overbearing; openness and honesty without being nosy; caring without being jealous; spontaneous ease in being together and doing things together but also respect and ease in facing possible conflict. And on top of it all, no fixed gender roles!