This has been a really hard summer. There has pretty much only been one thing on my mind, and that is my husband’s unstable job situation, knowing he could become unemployed at the end of any month. That’s why I haven’t been blogging; there are only so many times I can write about all that.
But now the hammer has finally fallen. My husband’s last day of work is next week Wednesday. His employer is out of funding. My husband has met with the head of the department and had it confirmed that there is no more work there for him. He has been applying for other things to no avail.
About a month ago, it looked like everything was going to be okay. There was a position that opened up, and the head of the department had asked my husband to apply, implying that he would get it, but when the time came they gave it to another internal candidate who had more seniority. That was devastating, thinking he had something lined up only for it to be yanked away. We have been in situations like that more times than I can count, but it’s devastating every time.
So, if a miracle doesn’t occur before next Wednesday, we will be giving our notice to our landlord and then moving back in with my parents. Words cannot express how much I dread this. It will be even worse than the last time we lived with them, from 2011 to 2013, because they have moved back to a small town where I have a bad history and where there are people who really don’t like me. This is entirely my fault, of course, due to my social cluelessness and my tendency to not control my words when I’m overwhelmed and stressed and hurt (and I did get badly hurt there). There are people there I simply cannot face. I would rather die.
I have been crying for days, and the stress has been causing me and my husband to argue. I have been fighting the inevitability of moving back in with my parents and it has been bothering me how accepting he seems of it. But I think I have reached a point now where I too am resigned to it. I don’t have any fight left in me.