I have been living in a pretty serious state of denial for the previous eleven months. That doesn’t include the months prior to the actual move when I talked myself and my family into relocating back to Indianapolis. My husband is looking for a scapegoat–trying to blame all of this frustration and dead-end job searching on someone else. “Oh, so-and-so said they knew a higher up at X. And such-and-such told you that he could guarantee you a job at Y. I blame A, B, and C for telling you they could get you an interview.”
The truth is, whether or not I took those promises to heart, and whether or not they were empty, I still felt like the best thing for us was to come back. For a number of reasons. My pregnancy was complicated. Ellie’s birth was complicated. We didn’t have a lot saved and there was no way of knowing we could get through much of any maternity leave. We couldn’t afford to put two kids in daycare at the same time. We wouldn’t qualify for daycare assistance without me being employed. We were coming back to Indy all the time to visit people. I wanted Bea to be closer to family and friends.
And now I’m reconsidering all of that. Yes, it would mean moving our kid yet again, and she would no longer be going to kindergarten here with her little friends from preschool and with whom she has grown up (a former co-worker whose son is five months older than Bea was accepted to the same school). And it would mean not having the kids around their new cousin, due the beginning of June, because his dad and mom are trying to move to Indy. It would mean coming back to Indy a lot for visits with two kids in a very small car. It would mean trying to figure out a way to break our lease here without having to pay the landlord a shit-ton of money. I guess it would mean a lot of things. But it all boils down to the fact that I am pretty unhappy here and cannot survive on the pay I make at my current full-time job selling crafts and local artwork, as much as I enjoy the business.
Our old landlord just let us know that the people on the first floor of our duplex in Chicago are moving out. The rent will be higher, but he now pays all utilities. We would go back to one car and save over $200 a month in payments, not to mention gas and insurance.
So I broke down and applied for an advising position at my alma mater. I was in the running for several jobs there before I decided we couldn’t stay. I don’t know if leaving decreased my chances of getting something else, or if being a graduate will increase my opportunity for an interview.
Suffice it to say that Charlie and I have had some pretty serious discussions over the past two days. I don’t yet know what will happen one way or another. If we’ll stick it out here for another year until the lease is up and try to save? Or just say fuck it and go.