The rumors and social media are true. I moved my ass halfway across the country this year! I went from living in the beautiful Appalachian Mountains, to living a a city with 1.4 million people right smack dab in the middle of the country, with not a damn mountain in sight.
So at last check in, I was working an off season job at the mall and my husband was once again unemployed.
Well, for some reason or other, he finally, after years and years, got his head out of his ass and decided he was tired of living life we were. He went out, got a good paying job that he was good at. He took that job, while also applying and interviewing with for his dream job. So he busted ass for 3 months, saved every penny. And I went back to school and learned more about computer coding. He landed his dream job, and my husband moved across the country on his own, with no furniture, no car and no me. We lived 1,000 miles apart for two months. I finished up the first half my certificate program, dropped out, and I also had to sign over my thriving nonprofit I created last year, and I turned down my dream job of park director for my previous year's park, and I moved in with him in May.
So now, we're 1,000 miles away from my family, all my networking contacts, all my friends, my business. Everything. I hate it. I love that my husband has finally landed his dream job. I'm thrilled he's finally making good money. I love that we have our own place again, even if we are lacking some furniture, and are in desperate need of pots and pans. I love that I finally have some distance from my family's drama. What I hate is that I'm so isolated from everyone and everything I love, besides him. I hate that I'm missing important events in my sibling's lives. I miss the birth of my baby brother's daughter. My grandmother is still deathly sick. I am the one that's not a part of these things anymore.
I'm depressed as hell. I used to think that all our problems and my depression would be solved if we were no longer poor and were no longer living in the spare bedroom of my in-laws' house. Apparently, I'm never satisfied. We may be lacking essential furniture, but now we're making decent money, and are saving and are bettering our lives. My husband has health insurance and a retirement. Our bills are paid on time and in full. We're actively saving. So money didn't solve my mental health issues.
Those have morphed into a different type of depression. I now have the depression where I'll hide in my closet and cry after my husband's asleep. When he's not home and I am, I just sit on the couch and cry. I don't call my family as much as I should. Hell, I'm balling just typing about how much this sucks. I'm lonely. I'm homesick.
I often wonder if I'm one of those brainwashed mentally abused wives, and I'm too stupid to realize it.
