Yeah, I know, it’s been quiet here lately. So much going on, and I’ve held my tongue because I was trying to hold off talking until I had a better idea how everything was going to play out.  And truthfully? I still don’t know that answer.  But I do know I’m ready to talk about it, actually I need to talk about it.  Somewhere.  To someone.  Because I’m not handling this shizz very well alone.  So it’s either a billboard on I-40 or here, and this is cheaper.  Plus I have more room to rant here.  Not so much with the billboard.  So, anyway, here goes.

I am angry.

Bob is laid off.  If you follow my Twitter you already know that.  And if you don’t, well shame on you, and here’s the address: www.twitter.com/missybw64.  So, anyway, this layoff situation now means that he’s in the same boat I’ve been riding in for quite a while.  The SS Can’t find a Job that’s sailing along on an empty job pool, headed toward the rocks with a strong tailwind.  Because, sadly, there’s nothing here for him employment-wise either, any more than there is for me.  That is, unless he wants to go to work at Pilot or join the Army.   Um, yeah Skippy, those are the largest employers advertising on monster.com in around these parts.  No, I’m not kidding.  Of course, as all of you well know, the only thing I’ve been able to find employment-wise in our 18 fun-filled months here is a temp clerical position that pays me a fraction of what I am worth and allows me the opportunity to hold the title of the most overqualified mail clerk in Knoxpatch.  But anyway, for those of you keeping score at home, this means our household is now 0 for 2 in the category of real jobs obtained in Knoxvegas.  And this means we aren’t going to be able to stay here much longer.  Okay, not long at all.  In fact, he’s in Tampa today, interviewing with two different companies, because he can get a call from down there.  From the 40 plus resumes he’s sent out here? Crickets.  Silent night.  And yes, this means that we’re enacting once-unthinkable scenarios that we previously would not have even considered.    But that was before.  Before our world ended. 

But, before I pack any boxes,  I just have to say, here and now, that I am mad.  Okay, maybe mad isn’t strong enough.  Pissed off?  Okay, even that probably that doesn’t begin to plumb the depths of rage I’m living in now.  I just want to scream.  All the time.  Forever.  Again. 

And I think I can be honest and say that we knew this whole east Tennessee settlement wasn’t forever.  We had already accepted that eventually we’d leave here, due in no small part to my sock allergy and hatred of the cold if for no other reason.  But not now.  Not this soon.  Because, if you haven’t kept up, this is where I’ll tell you that we came back here for a reason.  And that reason is 17.  She is a Senior.  She graduates in three months.  She turns 18 in five months.  And we planned to stay here until we had her successfully launched into adulthood.  All we needed was 5 more measly months.  That’s all.  150 frackin’ days.  That’s not too much to ask, now is it?  Well apparently it was.  Because it now appears that we won’t get that luxury.  Because at least one of us will be gone, probably very soon.  Because our world blew up.  Because an irresponsible employer overhired in 2008 and now has decided to start performing surgery on their staff in 2009, because it’s the fashionable thing to do.  And that surgery resulted in a Bob-ectomy. 

And, to be clear, I don’t have any problems with the concept or idea of relocation.  I’ve done it quite a few times.  Relocating isn’t the part of this equation that’s got me wailing and gnashing.  The part that’s got me melting down and screaming is the feeling that we don’t have very many viable choices.  That we are being forced to make this decision in order to survive.  Conversion at gunpoint is the best description I have.  And relocation isn’t supposed to be like this.  It should only be chosen if it’s to better our situation, if it’s well-thought-out, and if we want to do it.  This isn’t our choice right now.  In fact, this makes me feel a whole lot like the Joads, fleeing our own personal dustbowl, with hopes of something better in our minds.  Although, truth be told, east Tennessee is actually closer to my own personal Brokeback Mtn.  Because I keep saying that I can’t quit it, and I keep leaving.  But then I come back, once again seduced by the hope that “this time it will be different.”  But it never is.  And I leave again, because I cannot settle for a half portion.  Cannot settle for simply okay.  For less than I am capable of.  To do that would be the worst thing I could do.  The worst for both of us.

  But that doesn’t mitigate the anger.  The rage.  Because I like our life here.  Because in moving back here we knew that finally at last we were both making a difference in a child’s life.  Our child’s life.  And, more amazing to me than anybody, I wanted to be a difference in that child’s life.  Because that child didn’t choose me.  I didn’t choose her.  But that child and I have gotten to a very good place together.  And I don’t want to ever lose that.  I don’t want us to miss out on anything.  And yes, we have quite a lot of other family here that we’ll miss too.  But she’s our world.  Our north star.  And not being here with her will mean our sky is darker.  There will be an empty space in our lives that is shaped like her, that we’ll feel all the time.   

So I’m angry.  Because this economic downturn isn’t something far-removed for us.  This is personal.  This is physically tearing us apart.  Because all we have here is love, but unfortunately we can’t eat love.  Love doesn’t pay the bills.  Love might keep us together, as the Capt. & Tennielle warbled lo those many years ago, but not physically and financially together.  I see the very real picture of a family, separated, and that family is mine.

And I am angry.