Yesterday someone told me that I should look at this time of my life as an adventure. The interesting thing is that in the beginning, I suppose I did exactly that to some extent. Back in January of 2010 when we first found ourselves unemployed the prospect of change and of not knowing where we might be living had a certain appeal--despite the terrifying financial pallor cast over it. I never felt as though I totally fit in here in MN so the prospect of a move was, in fact, part of my adventure. Of course, as the months and then the years (!!!) flew by, my optimism and the spirit of adventure quickly reduced itself to a stark, cold reality and a nauseating sense of defeat. It is impossible to understand how powerless you can feel as you try to be as proactive as you can in finding a new job--endless phone calls, resume revisions, online applications and networking with anyone and everyone you meet--and still no one is calling you for an interview. I spend a good part of each and every day grappling with trying to understand how all these positions can be listed on job sites but it seems as though no one is trying to fill them. Law of averages dictates that if we do all the right things, sooner or later someone is going to call for an interview, no? My husband is convinced of this--me, not so much anymore.
Now the adventure has turned into one of those unbelievable stories that you see on the news. You know the type like that poor bear who was saved from being stuck in the tree only to be hit and killed by not one but two vehicles a mere few days later. The uncertainty of not knowing where we will be living or where the children will be going to school is not an adventure at all--it is a full-blown nightmare with no end in site right now. So, call it what you will, but after two plus years of marking days, I call this my own personal hell. Adventures are over-rated. I will opt for stability any day.
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