Still Lucky

Okay, so I know I said I was lucky. And I am.

And I know after last week, I should be feeling inspired and hopeful and basking in the we-are-the-world glow. And I am.

Seriously, I am.

But that’s all Big Picture stuff. The small picture has me feeling stressed and irritable and…dare I admit it? Downright bitchy.

It’s true. Even nice girls like me can be a bit, well...less than nice. Just ask my so-damn-patient-he-deserves-a-medal husband.

Let me preface this by saying that I adore my husband. Seriously, 99.9% of the time I feel like I’ve won the lottery because I’m married to this amazingly funny, sweet, and insightful man. It’s a bit disgusting actually. It’s just that lately…

Well, it’s not that Roger has done anything wrong, per se, but the overall tension surrounding our situation is causing a bit of...well, tension. Here we are, living in this foreign country, and all my fears about the currency not being stable and the job being too-good-to-be-true have suddenly become a reality. Now, honestly, despite the miserable exchange rate and the job and even the crazy in-laws…I certainly don’t regret coming here. I’m all about experiences, and this has definitely been one for the record books. Well, my record book anyway. I look back at all my blog entries and see that I’ve managed to compose a rather lengthy story about this time we’ve spent in Africa…and I’m pretty damn proud of that.

So where was I? Oh yes, the tension. While I don’t regret moving here, I'm definitely a bit stressed about moving back. Looking for a job is tough in the best of times, and let’s face it – these are not the best of times. I'm aware that spending endless hours on monster.com and working on the twenty-seventh draft of my cover letter doesn't exactly make me the most pleasant person to be around. And I know that my stress affects my mood and my mood affects my husband, but what can I do? I can’t help it!

But I have to… help it, that is.

Because my husband is amazing. And he doesn’t deserve to get the brunt of my angst. Now fortunately, being the saint that he is, he’s somehow capable of pointing out my shortcomings in this regard without sending me into a tirade. Miracle, I know. In fact, just last week I was snapping at him (probably about something extremely offensive, like him forgetting to put the clothes in the drier, again), and Roger interrupts me in a stern yet gentle tone:

“Robyn, you can’t do this,” he says so calmly that I kinda want to punch him in the nose. “You know how people are always saying that marriage is hard? And you know how you and I are always laughing at them and saying they're crazy? Well, this is what they are talking about...THIS is the hard part! And we have to continue to be nice to each other…even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

Um - gulp - okay.

The urge to punch him in the nose vanishes, and I suddenly want to curl up in his comforting arms. Because he’s right. He’s SO right. It doesn’t happen often, but he is completely, one hundred percent right.

Roger and I haven’t really been tested in our eight year relationship - and I’m not saying this is a huge test - but it’s the roughest waters we’ve seen so far. And while at times it might be tempting to jump overboard, I am clinging to the rock solid ship that is my husband. Because we're in this together. He knows me and loves me and would do anything to make me happy. And I’d do the same for him. So we will forge ahead in these rough waters. We will find a way to say goodbye to our family here in South Africa. We will start the process of moving our lives (and our Moose) back to America. We will begin the search for jobs and apartments and cars back home. And it will be okay. Because we have each other. And because of that, we are truly lucky. I’d say we're blessed, but I’ve always felt those words somehow imply that we've earned it or that we deserve it, and I can assure you – we don’t.
We’re just lucky.