I suppose both figuratively and literally.
I had finally gotten to the point that I thought I could make things work for us financially. With work. I could pull us through. I was starting to feel a little confidence and hope.
I may not have been happy about a lot of our living arrangements but I felt this was a good career move for Mr F, he was happy and engaged at work; Kid was happy at school... and healthy... I could suck it up for a year or more. That was my plan. Suck it up until something better came along.
Nausea sets in. And tears. And hyperventilating.
We can't cut 15% of our expenses to make up for the 15% cut in take home pay. It's not possible.
We can't pay our mortgage, utilities & food and also pay the premiums.
THIS WAS NOT THE PLAN.
The plan was NOT to move the kids all over the country chasing down the bare minimum of our cost of living.
I told Mr F "I want you to know that I don't blame you for this." And I don't. It's important that we don't shut down because of the imploding financial stress.
I now scan all the rooms looking with "if we had to downsize what could we get rid off?" glasses on. If we move to NYC and rent a 2 bedroom apartment we'd need to let go of almost everything. But I look at everything and see all the money we invested in it that we can't get back but through it's enjoyment. How much can I ask myself to give up in one year? How much can I ask of the kids? Oh I know we could do it... but the losing of your dream, and hope, and security.... makes it much harder to let go of what you *own*... or at least is does for me.
What if the next place isn't any better?
What if there isn't a next place?