Realizing the benefit of unemployment.

I bitch, I’ll admit. That was the founding purpose of this blog, after all – as an outlet for my otherwise unreleased negatives. But sometimes I look and see things that remind me how bad it really isn’t, and I scold myself for acting as if the world is crushing my pretty lil’ head.

I am, for all intents and purposes, a stay-at-home mom, even though my boy won’t officially be “here” until June. I live in a three-bedroom, one-bath house with my husband, our three dogs, and his parents; we live here without expectation of monthly financial compensation or payback with interest, though if we had the means, we would supplement however we could. Neither of us are employed full-time, though we are actively looking despite a down economy and me being in late-stage pregnancy. Looking at all this as most people would, we are in a shitty spot: in our 20s, married and expecting, with 3 mouths to feed already and another on the way; no careers to speak of, a mountain of existing debt (thanks, college education and credit cards!) and more on the way, mooching off his parents and the state (medically speaking only). From the outside, we are the kind of people your parents – hell, my parents warned me about becoming.

But you know, we’re doing the best we can. We’re not living here because we’re lazy and don’t want to get a job or pay our way in life; we’re living here because circumstances dictated it was this, government housing, or our cars. We’re blessed to have family that supports us as best they can, until we can get back on our feet, and is thoroughly excited about having another mouth to feed new baby in the house in a few months. My husband has a part-time job with benefits available until something else comes through. We have a friendly, loving church family that is willing to do whatever needful to help anyone in their time of need. And despite the fact that I am a college-educated, independent woman in my 20s who should be holding down a budding career like my peers, I am instead finding myself appreciating the little things through the day, like a clean kitchen floor, freshly washed dogs, and hanging laundry on the line.

I will continue to bitch, because I feel like some things need to be bitched about (like people’s general un-appreciation of police officers and their positions), and some things I need to get off my chest before I open my mouth and say something out loud (such as situations with my in-laws, or the fact that the nursery-in-progress is repeatedly cleaner than my bedroom because my husband can’t remember to put his dirty underwear in the hamper but will throw a fit if the dust isn’t swept off the nursery floor paper covering when he’s done working). But this is here as a reminder to myself, and anyone else, that there is a silver lining; that it really isn’t always that bad; and even when it is that bad, it will get better.

“Everything is all right in the end. If it ain’t all right, it ain’t the end.”

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