Desperate (for a job) housewife

Excerpt

I remember

My life is similar to Gaby Solis. I sit at home with access to workout classes, beautiful clothes, makeup, accessories, and many high maintenance things that keep me low maintenance. Writing this, I feel envious of myself. But then, I remember.

I remember how it feels to shop to fill a void. Watching mindful people with lists while I mindlessly spend money on things I don’t need. I remember how it feels to hear people talk about their day or week at work while I have nothing to contribute. I remember sitting by my window, watching people grab lunch with colleagues while my only company is the TV and my most used condiments are tears streaming down my face and into my food, wishing I had someone to talk to.

I also remember how I used to feel.

Waking up with a purpose. Having a routine that felt rewarding after school or work. I worked while earning both my degrees so somedays, it was both.

I remember the frustration that came with academia and the corporate world. I have to admit, I loved it. It meant I was a part of something. It meant progression in my career. It’s what I came here to do. And let’s not forget the biweekly paycheck that sweetened the pot.

I would do anything to feel that frustration today. It’s a strange feeling when something as simple as having the right to work is taken away from you. I still can’t put it into words.

You must be thinking: She knew this would happen if she got married.

And to that I say: Yes, I did.

But back then, the timeline to apply for a work permit was roughly six months. I had it all planned out. I was going to treat that time as a long summer break and make the most of it.

Now, I’m potentially looking at a wait period of three to five years. Nothing prepared me for this.

So here I am. Writing my most private thoughts for anyone to read. I’m not going to lie, writing this is painful. It makes my reality feel even more real. I almost always need a few days after writing something like this to get back on track. Sometimes, I want to scrape this whole blog because of how personal and painful it is.

But then, I remember.

I remember that there must be people out there feeling the way I do, or worse. If I can create a space for people to feel seen, understood, and relatable, I’m willing to get uncomfortable with the hope to one day, feel comfortable.

So… I hope I didn’t assume this would be relatable. Tell me I’m not the only one. Have you ever felt like your life paused while everyone else kept going? Let’s start a conversation about it below.

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