My sister is obsessed with finding my husband a job in her city. Apparently, she’s been doing her own job search and emailed me the link to an opening at a local university, which I forwarded to Hubby. Of course, it wasn’t a good fit for him, but I appreciate that she’s trying. Mostly though, what I think she really wants is for us not to move out of the country.
I haven’t written much about Hubby’s job search because, lately, there hasn’t been much to write about. He’s received a few more rejection letters in the last couple of weeks and applied for a few more jobs, but the status quo is still the same: nada. He is teaching a class this semester, which is a good thing, but he won’t get his first paycheck until the end of February. It’s better than nothing.
Which is what I’m terrified of. If we’re lucky enough to get a BFP after our FET next month, Hubby will have roughly 8 months to secure a job. He’s still confident. Annoyingly so, because after more than four years, he’s no closer to starting his career. He keeps saying it’s going to happen, but I have a hard time believing him. Not that I think he’s lying. He’s not capable of that. In fact, he’s honest to a fault–often brutally so–which is part of the problem. He’s not skilled in the kind of creative bullshitting required to procure gainful employment.
That and, as my sister pointed out, “There are no jobs.” Tell me about it.
Between the job stress and the embryo stress, I haven’t been sleeping. I’ve resorted to taking sleeping pills, even for a nap, and I’m not looking forward to another restless night before having to start a new work week. Last week was pretty rough.
I want to believe in Hubby, but after four years of believing and getting nothing out of it, my faith is a little broken. I know he needs to do something different, but I’m not sure what that something is, and even if I did, I can’t do it for him. I want this FET to work so badly, but with that come so many other what-ifs. I just wish I could know it will all be okay.