A friend of mine suggested I name my blog this, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. For starters, having a blog someone else named would just feel wrong (yes, the blog is named after lyrics someone else wrote, but let’s not go there). Secondly, I hate to name an entire blog after a negative feeling I’m having in the moment. I am hoping it won’t be a permanent feeling, at least. It’s good to have hope.

Warning, all ye who enter here: I write too much. If you get tired reading lengthy texts, this isn’t the place for you. If you look at magazines only for the pictures or skip over any Facebook post you might actually have to read, you might also want to take a pass on this. Warning number two: I really, really write too much. And I’m honest to a fault. Many faults. I also talk too much, but you will be spared that here, at least… sort of. I have been told that I write almost exactly the way I speak, which I suppose has good and bad points. Regardless, I write the way I write, and I doubt that will change anytime soon.

So here I go. This is a place where I might find release, assuming that release exists. I am quite stressed out and angry at the universe, and that will certainly be reflected here. My life has many good things as well: a loving husband, two smart, adorable children… family and friends who seem to love me no matter what. In all of that, I am lucky. This particular entry, though, will be about one of the ways in which I am not. Apologies to all, and again, if you’re not wanting to delve into someone else’s issues, run away. As the joke goes, I don’t have issues, I have subscriptions. You will be viewing many of them here. You may not feel better after reading, but I am hoping (there’s that word again) that I will feel better after writing.

My husband got a new job last week. This was a very, very big deal, as he has been unemployed for a very long time. He interviewed twice for it, and one of the interviews involved a three hour-long test. Crazy stuff. In the end, he beat out approximately eight other people to get the job. We were elated… beyond elated. We were also nervous, though, as we have had the rug ripped out before, several times. So we were cautious about sharing our news, not wanting to jinx anything. We only told a few people, primarily family. Anyway, day one he found out that rather than the “real, permanent” job he thought it was, the position would be through an employment agency for at least three months. Apparently this is common, but it sucked for us because it meant no insurance, no sense of security and no way to start consolidating/paying down our debt, which is considerable.  Still, I tried to be positive about the fact that it was still a full-time, eventually-permanent job, which is more than he’d had in… far too long. The first week went great. He was busy, and loved it. It’s a familiar environment so it’s not like he had to learn dozens of new skills… he was in his element. He worked late a couple of nights, which was fine with us, if tiring on both ends. It’s been a long time since I’ve played solo parent, but I was certainly gung-ho to reacquaint myself with the role. Yes, my daughter asked for “Da-da” about a thousand times, but I took definite pleasure in responding, “Da-da’s at work.” Amazing feeling. I started daydreaming about life’s luxuries… paying my mortgage, paying my second mortgage, paying down my debt and NOT getting phone calls from collection agencies a dozen times a day. Yep, the luxuries. You can sense this isn’t going to a good place, right?

So yesterday, Chris came home and told me that the supervisor had called him into the office and told him that his position was technically “freelance,” and that unfortunately they didn’t have any more work for him this week. He assured Chris that they do genuinely like him and told him to come back on Monday. WTF? Chris called his employment agency rep and read her the riot act… this was supposed to be a full-time, temp-to-hire job, not a freelance gig. Who goes through two interviews and a three-hour test for a part-time freelance position? Moreover, what kind of company does all of that to find a part-time freelancer? We are so angry, and so confused.

This puts us in a terrible position. Chris has sent the agency rep another email requesting a strict definition of the position and its future outlook. He worked all week last week, including overtime, but only two days this week. What kind of hours are those, and how are we supposed to plan around them? It feels as much like a trap as a job.  If I keep looking for work (which, to be clear, I would rather not do, but we are beyond desperate), how am I supposed to schedule interviews around this kind of “maybe” schedule? How, for that matter, is Chris? I’m certain he’s not anxious to schedule more interviews. This was the closest thing he’s had to a permanent position in so long… he hadn’t been getting that many interviews, and the situation – our situation – was and is dire and depressing. To be offered what he thought was a permanent job and then have it all but evaporate in the space of a little more than a week is devastating.

We were so happy. We have been stuck in this situation for so long now that we were both feeling like there was no way out, and suddenly there was this bright light. Now everything seems dim and gloomy again. The light hasn’t quite gone out, but it seems like it’s threatening to. How permanent can the job be if they ran out of work in only a week? He was/is working as part of a team which includes one permanent hire and one other “freelancer,” who was hired approximately a month before Chris. Chris assumes the other freelancer would be first in line to get a job, assuming a permanent one became available. I just can’t believe we went through all of this just to have it all evaporate again. It feels like the universe is using my family as a punching bag, and I don’t appreciate it. I was filled with gratitude, trying to be positive rather than fearful (not an easy thing for me to pull off), and BAM! Here we go again.

I guess this is better than individually informing the 10 people we shared the “good” news with. I’d apologize for the length of this, but honestly, just get used to it. I have a bit of a writing problem. Once I start, especially when I’m stressed, it’s difficult to stop. If you made it this far, congratulations, or I’m sorry. Perhaps both.