Is this a lady problem?

You know you have a problem, but no words to describe it.  Time goes by, and you tell yourself it's all in your head.  Then, when someone else says they have the same problem, thus validating it, you feel better! The problem is still there, but now you know you're not crazy.  This is for all the commenters who have assured me I"m not crazy. And I do feel a whole lot better.

Now I just need to find more blogs about domestic movers!  If I drop everything to follow my husband to Iowa, it's not quite the same as going to Borneo or something. At least with an international move, I'll have an air of worldliness and perhaps a new language.  No offense to Iowa, but you understand?  You take away the glamor of international travel (yeah, yeah, I'm reading all about that glamor) and it's just me schlepping around without a job.  Help prove me wrong! Where are you guys?

No news yet

How long does it take for a school to tell you that you are/are not what they are looking for? I guess it's only been a few weeks, but I'm dyin'.  And the (only) other application he's been talking about isn't due for over a month. I spoke with him about sending emails to schools who are doing research in his area, but he's so reluctant.  I told him it can't hurt-- looking a little desperate for a job (and I do NOT think this looks desperate) especially in this economy can not possibly count against anyone. Especially in his field.  This isn't a cool contest.  I read some stuff about waiting for openings vs. cold-calling on the PhD Comics forum and sent the thread to him.  It didn't really move him.  Which aggitated me a little.

He is, fortunately, staying at work later. I know, a PhD who you have to cry to get them to spend time IN their office? Maybe I'm lucky.  It's kind of cute* that he thinks he's putting me out by spending time in the office, because I really do think he believes all the little time we spend together is important.

My job at the university is heavily affected by the return of the students, and I'm in full-time grimace mode right now.  At least it gives me more to do (the doldrums of this summer were driving me bonkers).

*It puts me out, though, to think that every sci-fi episode we watch at night is one more 44-minute chunk of life we could have been closer to moving on.  I am afraid to do the math.


p.s. I do not hate my dog. But I come close. She looks like this poor little guy:

One more thing to worry about

Here is where I lose what few readers I have. I have a dog.  But I do not want to own a dog.

We got the dog when there were more people who pledged to take care of it. They left, now we're left with a dog who looks cute but has so many social/emotional problems and seemingly small physical problems that add up to a whole lotta money.  I know I'd never be able to forgive myself for taking an animal back to the shelter (even after almost 5 years!) but the husband loves it so, so, so much.  The dog reminds me often that I am not sure I want children.

How does this have to do with the blog? Other than sharing a "whining" tag? Like an infant, the dog has killed our nightlife, weekend trips, day trips, everything.  We have very few people who can watch the dog because it has so many things that may go wrong, and we can't afford to board too much.  I've always wanted a fence to leave the dog in (and maybe a hole in the fence? with a trail of cheese leading far, far away?) but we thought we wouldn't be around very long.  And building a fence is a committment! And then winter would approach, so what was the point of building it now? And another 6 months would pass, and we'd still be shackled to man's best friend.  This was not my best friend.

There was a nice day in spring, a neighbor had some fencing material, and over a period of a week, we got a makeshift fence up.  I was elated.  We could leave the house for more than three hours.  My husband wouldn't be shackled to the couch to do his research. Maybe we could save the money we spent each week for her "social day" at the dog place.  I thought maybe we could have the romantic little day trips we used to enjoy so much when we first got together. 

But she was itchy, so the vet gave her a shot and I spent a day mowing, clearing brush, spraying the yard, etc.  Still itchy. More baths, more shots, now some antibiotics, more spraying, more trips to Lowe's for pesticides (that I NEVER in my life thought I would buy), more bald spots and infections.

So, I'm looking forward to going home to the new bald spot and constantly scratching dog, and in a few days I'll probably have to take her to the vet after work and drop $60 on a visit and some pills. Should I buy some more pesticide to spray? Or should I just tear down the fence with my bare hands and have a breakdown?

[UPDATE] I have taken a deep breath, and am looking forward to my sewing class.  It's all I can do.

"I think you'll really love NewTownX"

Yesterday, after too much time by myself in my dismal job, and too much time spent navel-gazing, I had a serious case of the blues as I walked home. I got in the door, saw my husband sleeping on the couch (when I left, he was sleeping in the bed) and went straight to the bedroom and got in my cocoon. By the time he woke up and realized I'd gotten home, I couldn't even verbalize why I was so sad.

I just told him I was sad, and I needed some love and attention. Not in a guilting kind of way, just being honest. He cuddled me for a while, until I could start to make words. Anxiety, identity, it all came out in civil words for once. I asked him if he had any other applications he was planning on sending in. He told me about a job in NewTownX.

The title of the post is the first thing he said about it, before he even described the job. He said I'd love it, and got on Google Maps to show me where it was, and how far away from places I was familiar with. He's been there before for a summer job, so he knows the good stuff and some of the bad.

We spent the night eating pizza and cuddling into each other as hard as a human can cuddle. He explained the job to me, and we looked at the website. I felt tired from so much worry, and though he hasn't actually applied yet, the plan gives me some relief.

In the spirit of Asking Questions, I asked how many postdocs he thought he'd do before trying to land a tenure track (TT) position.  He said, hopefully one, maybe two.  I asked him if he'd kindly move his mobile office (on the couch) back into his actual office.  He said he would, but when I get home today we'll see.  It's for the best, and will help my sanity to have a place to sit, but it's an ugly couch and he makes the sight of it more bearable.

This in place of the teary rant I was writing earlier.

Thank you, PhD comics.

Spending too much time reading while my boss is gone gave me time to take a wrong turn into Sad-town.  I started to write about how I didn't see the harried, never-at-home academic in my own spouse: I often saw procrastination and time wasted on the internet that could have gone towards one of the joyful things they we dont' do anymore so he can "focus".  I'm glad it was lunch, because I had to off-load a few tears.  Some old frustrations came up in that, and one new one I'd say to him if it didn't sound so mean: when you waste your time, you're wasting my time.  I'm going to try to let this comic make me feel better.

Ways to get by

don't want to use this blog as a platform to complain about my job, but dang. [redacted].  Instead, I will use this negative to come up with the first item on my list of Ways I Get By.

1) People being unreasonable at work?   Call them out on it. Nicely. When they say something that doesn't make sense? Ask questions until they realize they are acting loony and emotional and stop the bad behavior.  This worked today, and I felt pretty proud of myself.  The hope of moving on has given me some courage.

2) Throw yourself headfirst into a new hobby.  I have chosen sewing, and am going to start a class on Monday.  I know people in the local fashion world, so I've called on them for advice.

3) Make new friends.  I've made two new friends in the past 6 months that I hang out with at least once a week. Once a week means a lot to me, because everyone is so busy these days. I felt apathetic about meeting new people during my "We're just going to move as soon as something good happens so why even try waaaaaah" phase.  This didn't help things. 

4) Relax. I am not really good at this, but I'm making a point of being selfish and sitting on the couch to read while the spouse does house things.  I used to think if I sat down, not as much would get done, but now I don't care as much.  If I relax, I'm happier.  If I'm happier, I don't feel like I have to have an iron fist around the house.

5) Remember that the spouse is amazing and you love him/her.  Being sweet to someone makes you feel good.  And then they're sweet back.  And then you remember that though life seems like a huge stressor, at the middle of it all (well, from your perspective) is you and him.

6) Exercise.  Yeah, that sucks right now, but you know you always feel better when it's done. But yeah, lots of suckage.

Flowers help, also penpals, walks with no purpose and beers.

Beers!/Cheers!


(There's no read video, but good song)

I need voices of other trailing spouses!

Most of the blogs I've found that focus on trailing (I wish there was a different term) are now defunct.  The most commentary I've found was in the comments on the Broadsheet article.  It was good to see that men were commenting on being the TS.  I was really surprised this topic didn't already have 20 successful blogs.

One of the things that stick in my craw is that it seems like I'm forgoing my own identity to follow my spouse. Here's where my gender-neutrality is going to bust.  I'm a lady.  A lady who said she'd never change her name or be under anyone's thumb.  And though I love my spouse and am genuinely excited about the prospect of a new place, I feel like I've slowly slid into a traditional role and can't get out. I am angry at myself for not having a career that would give me some power in this.  I know that trying to both get jobs with advanced degrees would make this harder, but I am mad at myself for being so easy and directionless and way too good at keeping a house.

I was fucking raised to clean and cook and manage a home.  I can't not do it. I can't not clean up a mess or finish a project.  I can't just wait until 8pm and glance in the fridge and throw something together.  I do all the meal planning and grocery shopping, much of the cooking, much of the cleanup.  Dishes are pretty equal between us, but I'm the one mopping up the counters and making sure nothing is growing in the fridge. All the little details that really do matter, but that he never sees.  It probably doesn't help that my mom also passed down some control issues to me.  Don't get me started on towel-folding.  I'm making major progress in that area, actually.

I have an image of my spouse in a wood-paneled room with academics, sniffing brandy and all that "man talk" jazz.  And then I see me in the living room or kitchen talking to all the wives.  Why do I always assume that the academics are men?  My spouse's field is very man-heavy.  Which could still mean some men in the kitchen with me.  I do not dislike women! I just dislike the idea of being known as "the wife of an academic" and him being known as "an academic".  I don't want that life.  I want to be me.

In a new place, my social contacts will, at first, be primarily people I meet through him.  I am sure these will be nice people.  But I've been the new kid so many times before, with my parents' friends introducing me to their kids.  Who will I be introduced to now?

I'll just need to introduce myself.

Internet Anonymity? Well, hi Internet.

I haven't written a blog in a long time, and it's been quite a while since I seriously felt important enough for some free bandwidth. I'd like to hope I'm anonymous, as some of the things I'd like to talk about on this blog might hurt some people's feelings.

It does feel good to do this.

I am 27, and I hold a bachelor degree in a liberal art. It is somewhat worthless, but I have a job that pays well and doesn't put me in danger. On a day like today, I really should be so thankful for the air conditioning. I got married some years ago, and my spouse is in grad school. Ze(I'll attempt to stay gender-neutral*) are very close to finishing up a PhD and already looking for jobs. This blog is about being the one without a career path yet, married to one on zes way.

For the past few years, I've been in a limbo waiting to see if I'd be here for a while, or moving on. This limbo has caused me to make excuses about not doing things that will take a commitment and feeling resentment against my spouse. I knew what I was getting into when I said I'd follow zem everywhere. But I didn't. This was my first real relationship, one that lasted longer than the initial flares of passion and went into truly getting to know someone territory. But this wasn't a lesson that could be learned by thinking really hard about it. The reality has been hard on me.

When we got married, I was under the impression that ze was almost done. We told our relatives (somewhat jokingly) about moving to another country. My biggest problem in life has always been my fear of asking questions. The questions that would get me where I need to go and let me know where I stand. I guess I never straight-out asked how long this could take, and so I lived for years thinking "I'll be gone in 6 months". I packed boxes every once in a while. I sold boxes of books. I quit a non-work activity because I thought I couldn't commit for the term necessary. I put off looking for a better job, even though the one I had was killing me. For a while I even shied away from making new friends, thinking it wasn't worth the effort.

It wasn't until last year that my facade of faithful sidekick crumbled and I told zem all about how unhappy I was with not knowing. Ze wasn't happy about it either, and my telling zem didn't help. I knew it was my right to talk about my feelings, but I felt horrible that I'd put more pressure on zem than ze already had. (This is my first time writing with these pronouns, and I feel clunky, but I feel it's for the greater good). I had and have a right to be happy and a right to be unhappy. Playing the part of a loyal and uncomplaining spouse was a great way to go crazy. Believe me, I went a little crazy.

Advice for the "trailing" spouse (though this usually refers to a two-career household) is usually not to complain, though this is usually only directed at women. There's some truth to that, but it's only to not complain all the damn time. If you've told zem you're unhappy and why, and try to fix it or ask them to help you fix it, that is totally ok. But if you're letting zem know at every turn that they need to pick up the speed and get done already, that may be edging into some non-productive territory.

So, here I am, at a middling job, with a bachelor's degree in uselessness, married to a wonderful person who really is trying as hard as ze can.

It is a job. And I am thankful for that.

And my degree, while seemingly useless, is a stepping stone and helped me get said job.

And my spouse is my favorite person in the world.

And if I try to write down everything I've thought about for the past three years, this will be a terrible blob of a post and no one will reach the end of it before they perish.

I hope this can be a resource or a voice in the dark for other people, married or not, who need an outlet for the fear and helplessness that this situation can make you feel. I learned that it's totally ok to feel this way, but it's not ok to keep it all inside. If you can talk about it, you can figure a way out. I'm stilling digging myself out of this pit, but I could use some company.

*For a good guide to this, if you care: http://santiago.mapache.org/nonfiction/essays/zie.html

[UPDATE 1-8-11] Lots of you are coming here reading this post, but rest assured this was the first one and I've come a long way, including dropping the badly-done gender-neutral pronouns.  Thanks to Drug Monkey for the good press.