A while back, kerryalina at Bikram Butterflies finished a challenge she had set for herself and wrote this post about it. In it, she says:
“But as this challenge has proved, I am capable of so much more than I believe – inside the hot room and outside of it. Now I just have to acknowledge that proof and actually start believing it.”
I want to feel this way. I want to feel powerful. Not helpless. Not like the whims of the world are slapping away what little control I’ve ever had.
I’m in the midst of a challenge, but unlike a yoga or blog-writing or [fill-in-the-blank] challenge that has a clear start and end date, what I’m in the middle of (and Hubby, right along with me) has no end in sight.
Hubby received yet another rejection letter shortly after I arrived home from my trip. Just a little reminder that real life is back in full swing.
I’m hating my job these days. Not the day-to-day doing of my job, but all the bureaucratic bullshit that goes with it. And the complete lack of respect or appreciation for the fact that last month I billed 20 hours over the minimum, while most others didn’t even hit the minimum requirement. I didn’t get the raise I asked for months ago, and I haven’t received a single kind word or one bit of thanks from the higher-ups for not only taking on extra responsibility but, in my opinion, excelling under very difficult circumstances. I asked a simple question during a staff meeting the other day and was answered as if I were a five-year-old. In front of a roomful of people.
Like I said, no respect.
But I can’t quit. Not until Hubby has an offer firmly in hand.
Everything, including potential IVF, is on hold until Hubby gets some kind of job. On Thursday, he has an appointment to meet with a career counselor at the university from which he received his PhD and, until this month, at which he was a part-time instructor. As of the beginning of the month, he has officially gone from underemployed to unemployed. And if he has to re-write his resume and begin searching in earnest for a job outside academia, giving up his dream, the only job he’s ever wanted to have, we’ll be facing double defeat.
I hate this. And I know he does, too. I begin to worry when he is the one who isn’t feeling optimistic. That’s his role. He’s the one who bolsters me when I’m feeling down and not very hopeful about the future. When he starts showing signs of resignation to a reality neither of us wanted, I know the end is near.
When it does get here, I guess all I can do is hope that, looking back on how we got there, we’ll have been instilled with some small appreciation for what we’ve had to fight through to get to the next phase.
I feel like a broken record. Haven’t I said all of this before? But it’s where we are. Stuck. And it doesn’t feel like change is coming any time soon.