Here's to a new year.

Soo... the last few posts have been pretty sad. I'm happy to say I'm through the grieving stage, I think, and on to the resigned stage. Still heartbroken that we could have stayed in Seattle but we chose Toronto instead. A bit perplexed that we couldn't see how good we had had it and why we didn't try to stay. But what can we do? We can't go back. We just have to keep searching for something better. I am kind of excited that 2016 will be the year we do it.

Or the year we make another big mistake. Who knows?

I'm betting on something better.

Stranded in Canada

Maybe it was my negative attitude that attracted this wave of bad luck, or maybe my intuition was telling me all along that something worse was yet to come. Either way, it's apparent now we've made a terrible mistake in moving to Toronto.

Last Wednesday, the day before my birthday (also Thanksgiving, and my parents were visiting) my husband came home at noon (he never comes home at noon). He went in for his 3 month review (the point in which our benefits would kick in) and he was told they "couldn't find a place for him" and they were letting him go.

What kind of company spends $30K+ to move a family across the country, puts them in a fancy high rise hotel for 2 weeks, pays to store all our belongings while we find a house, and then doesn't actually have a job to offer after all? How can whoever makes the hiring and firing decisions not see that they asked a family to relocate to a foreign country and then left them stranded? He wasn't even there long enough to form any lasting connections. We have no family or friends here, no job leads for either of us, and it's Christmastime to boot. Merry fucking Christmas.

This supposed dream job has become a nightmare. We have no reason to be here. We sold our beloved house in Seattle. I gave up my job. For what? A struggle greater than any we could have imagined. This is our rock bottom, I think. I can't imagine it can get any worse.

I'm a stranger in a strange land.

This sadness comes and goes in waves. Most days I'm fine and in public I'm fine but when I'm all alone (which is a lot) sometimes I break down. The smallest thing can trigger it like a photo or kid drawing from when we lived in our old house, or it comes when I'm just sitting on the couch staring straight ahead wondering what I should do with myself.

I realize this is a luxury many people do not have. I know I should cherish and appreciate it. I see photos of terror attacks in Paris and Syrian refugees and I know I have it easy. (Seeing photos of terror and refugees is no doubt contributing to my sadness.) I'm trying desperately to see beauty around me but missing mountains, and green, my old job, and our old house. I do not love my new house. My backyard makes me want to turn around and go back inside. My studio makes me feel claustrophobic. We're renting now, for $1,000 more a month than we were paying for a house we owned that had a garden and fish pond and trees we planted. I am not cut out for city living. I miss suburbia.