Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Moving and Shaking

I've been trying to find a way to launch this post, retain my composure and remain somewhat interesting all at the same time. I'll shoot for one out of three. (The first one, in case you were wondering.)

It's been a rough week. Hard to come back from vacation and face the ghosts in this house. I'm not a morbid person by nature, and I don't think I go around looking for drama*. So, for me, it surfaces in other places.

For instance, my husband (who actually has been a complete doll since we returned from vacation) and I have had two nights in a row of Deep Discussion. Talks lasting far too late into the night. Questioning our happiness, our future, our (lack of) intimacy and ultimately our marriage. They have been mostly quiet, calm discussions, which in a way is that much scarier than your run-of-the-mill, knock-down, drag-out. Sometimes I can't figure out if our marriage is stronger than ever (for having confronted these issues) or completely on the rocks. Maybe both? I guess if we are both invested in making it better, as well as afraid of losing one another, it can only get better. That's my hope anyway.

One of the big issues that is plaguing us is my husband's (I'll call him B for now) career. He has a job that is great in many ways. Or in the most important allows me to stay home. But it is a job which happens to exist on a continuum of jobs (erstwhile known as the corporate ladder), making it necessary for him to continually consider the next job on the continuum. In plainspeak, a position in his company has opened up, five hours away from here, which he feels obliged to apply for. As a friend of mine put it, it's a case of "If you're not moving up, you're just in the way."

For reasons that I do not want to get into, B feels that he must apply for this job. And he feels rather certain that he will get it, resulting in a move.

The first time he discussed the idea of moving with me, was back in May. I was in the midst of my second miscarriage. I told him I wasn't interested in moving. He said, "Well, let's talk about it more tonight." And I said, "What's to talk about? I just gave you my answer."

At the time, I was in a black hole. Sucker punched by failure and loss, again. I have wonderful friends here, among them some priceless neighbors who make life so much easier (with or without infertility). We have lived here three years, and it took me probably half of that time to connect with the people that are now dear to me. The thought of leaving all of this, right when I was going through another terrible loss was too much for me to bear.

Back then I told him to go for it, but that I would stay here with our daughter, and he could get an apartment there, and we would work it out. And I meant it.

Fast forward a few months. One more devastating miscarriage, the little one about to start school and the job is still open. He's been putting it off, I think, because of me (and for his own reasons) but I think he feels he has to make a decision for once and for all.

It is really eating me up. I cannot even fathom moving, but I see no other way out of it. Mind you, I understand that he is the breadwinner and under a great deal of stress because of that. I just don't like being out of control, I don't like not knowing the future.

Admittedly, I feel in a better place now to cope with a move like that, but no more interested in doing so. And (because I probably do like drama) I start to worry about my daughter and how lost she would feel without her little friends and neighbors that she has come to love. And that breaks my heart. Everyone tells me that she would be fine, that she would make new friends. But that means squat to me right now. I don't want to even have to put her through it. What I feel for myself, I feel ten times over for her.

I am not very good at taking one day at a time. As I explained to B, one of the reasons I am traumatized by the idea of a move is that I can't get a handle on all the details, and how it will play out. (Not to mention there is no guarantee that either of us will be happy, when all the dust settles.) I told him, "If I could go and google 'B's job search,' I would."

I guess all of it makes me feel very unsafe. Right now, I am craving safety, comfort, routine. Maybe even a little boredom. I think we have a couple more months before this would all go down, so I'll try to keep my chin up. But I'm probably not going to do it very quietly.

* Okay, this is not entirely true. But the drama I stoke, like the embers of a fire, is more of the mundane, everyday type. The kind of drama that keeps me from drowning in the tedium of making pancakes every morning for breakfast and pretending that grocery shopping is an adventure. For instance, the drama that I created recently at my new gym, when the "pleasant" girl at the front desk informed me that I am not allowed to wear a bandana to work out. Apparently wearing a bandana equates with being a powerlifter or some other type of zealot. The nerve! I made a fuss with her and the manager, then sent a pointed email to the owners and haven't been back since. But now I'm bored again, so I'll probably go back tomorrow. With my bandana. And my weight belt.


At 7:29 PM, Blogger Kathy McC said...

Moving is a huge life change. So is miscarriage. That's a lot to take at one time. I don't blame you for not wanting to go.

My sister shut down a job opportunity/move for her husband because it required a huge move away from everything. I know she doesn't regret it.

At 2:47 AM, Blogger Hetty Fauxvert said...

Moving is a huge wrench, and I actually think it is worse for adults than it is for kids. (Mind you, we never moved when I was a kid, so I don't have firsthand experience there.) The problem is that it takes adults a lot longer to become real friends. We moved to our current area four years ago, and although we have developed a circle of friends that we hang with, I still don't have a real heart-to-heart friend here.

Of course, kids can feel every bit as lost and anxious as adults do when they move, but I still maintain that it's much easier to become friends. You don't have to think about socioeconomic status and whether your new buds will be jealous of your new Hummer (or laugh at it); you don't have to take politics under consideration; you don't worry that your new best friend will find your husband just a little too attractive. No, the kid next to you daringly throws a spitball at the math teacher, and you laugh, and suddenly you have a friend. It's quicker, at any rate.

You have to evaluate whether this is a good time or not. So soon after m/c, it may just be too much. Don't stretch yourself more than you can handle.


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