I wrote my first Make More, Buy Less post just slightly more than two years ago. Eight posts later, I had written my last. Pretty lame, I know.
But there’s a reason.
Just a few days after I started this blog — an experiment in coming clean and finding my creative self — my husband lost his job and our world turned sideways. I would say upside down, but we were fortunate compared to others who have been laid off. My husband was provided with a decent severance package and my employer allowed me to ramp up to full time. I started a small side business to earn some extra dough in case job interviews didn’t come swiftly enough, but the phone was ringing within the first few weeks (thanks, in part, to my husband’s inability to wallow in his unemployed-ness — something I’m sure I would do). But blogging about trying to curb my spending and fulfilling some pretty lofty goals of personal growth seemed sort of pointless. Putting the brakes on my old habits was no longer optional, and trying to “make more” — crafting and sewing and cooking and exercising and all that — just seemed too overwhelming in the midst of having to sell our house (and then sell it again when our first buyers backed out), move from my dream town, and completely change our lives.
Within four months of the layoff, my husband was in a new job an hour-and-a-half away from our home. We opted to sell and move to another town, opinions of which I had formed twenty years earlier while playing against its high school field hockey team. To say I wasn’t thrilled about the move is an understatement. To say that I felt like I was dragged unwillingly by some uncontrollable force is more accurate. And while I still don’t feel like this town is my town, I do think the universe has plans and we don’t always understand them. Because, if my husband hadn’t lost his job, we would not have moved, and:
We would still be house poor.
We would still be living in my dream town, which despite all of its dreamy qualities (walkable, strong community, great schools, vibrant town center), had a lot of issues.
I would still be only 30 minutes from work, rather than nearly two hours, which forced me to assess whether I was truly happy at my job. (I wasn’t.)
I would not have actively pursued a new role — part-time webmaster, designer, and communications Jill-of-all-trades — at a school on the most gorgeous campus I have ever seen. And after a couple of interviews during which I was convinced I wouldn’t get the job, I did.
I would not be working ten minutes from my husband. We’re so close now we could meet for lunch.
I would not be working for a school that values and encourages its faculty to immerse themselves in interests outside of their job descriptions, as evidenced by my boss who has a booming jewelry design business, a colleague who ran an inn for two decades in her spare time, an athletic director who’s an amateur guitar player, and a headmaster who paints (and P.S., we’re not an art school.)
So here we are, settled in a place we didn’t plan to be two years ago, but seems to be working out pretty nicely. And I’m ready to come back to this germ of an idea I started and see where it goes.
Hope you come for the ride.