“I don’t want to do this,” I wailed, sitting on the couch of the vacation rental.
We were in Greenbackville, a small town of less than 500 people in coastal Virginia. I was jet-lagged and exhausted from bedtime with my 5-year-old. We had been woken up every morning by gunshots from hunting season. As I sobbed, my husband sat next to me and held my hand. He let me cry.
We’d lived in Albuquerque, New Mexico, 2,000 miles west, in the other direction, for over seven years in our ideal southwest home. I had finally found friends, restaurants, rhythms of the seasons, schools, and playdates.
In early January 2024, my husband had been looking for a new job for two years. When he started looking, I hadn’t found my footing in New Mexico and thought I wanted to leave. I missed grass, thunderstorms, and sweat. I wanted to sweat all over my body, not just my armpits. I thought I wanted to be drivable to family. Going back and forth to visit everyone became impractical.
We packed our lives for his new job
Working in middle management, my husband didn’t feel fulfilled. But he was home for dinner every night and did preschool drop-off three days a week. We took that for granted at the time.
He hoped to feel excited about going to work every day. He found a position on Virginia’s Eastern Shore. A mission manager is the person who says “go for launch” before the big button is pushed. It was his preteen dream. I said yes; it was NASA after all. But his dream immediately required me to pack our life into boxes and leave the community, routines, and school we had found in Albuquerque. I was thrilled for him, and I was overwhelmed and grieved for myself.
I wanted to support his dream career
Somewhere along the way, I was conditioned to believe that to be a good partner, you had to sacrifice. I told myself it would be good for me too. But sitting on that couch, sobbing while he held my hand, I realized that I would be trading my needs for his ideal.
The move was chaotic. Our stuff had to go into storage. We were separated for six weeks. We had to find a furnished short-term rental that took the dog and cat. Then we had to find permanent housing. I had to rehome over 100 house plants. It was a lot of hard work.
As it unfolded, the community we had in New Mexico stepped up. They helped me pack. They drove my 5-year-old to preschool, they did playdates, and brought over spaghetti dinner.
While my husband was at work, surrounded by brilliant space exploration, I was driving past chicken houses and farms growing crops to feed the chicken houses. I hated the smell and the vultures circling the plants, knowing what happened inside.
After a week of getting to the furnished rental, I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t live 45 minutes from a full-sized grocery store or coffee shop. This was not where I could raise my child, where I spent my days. While he was living in his science dream, it felt like I was losing myself.
His job was cut
I didn’t push the issue because quickly, outside forces affected federal jobs. After the federal government administration changed in mid-January 2024, DOGE was created, and they immediately cut federal institutions. By summer that year, this location was slated for a downsizing of over 80%. When that information was revealed, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and relief. I felt heartbroken for him. His career was being yanked away from him at no fault of his own. But at the same time, it saved our relationship. It spared us from having to decide between his profession and my everyday well-being.
After his time with NASA ended, we stayed in Greenbackville through the end of our lease. We explored moving back to Albuquerque and even closer to family in the Northeast, but we didn’t find a clear direction, so we decided to leave Greenbackville to live in an RV and explore the next chapter for our family.
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