The words my husband used to tell me that he had lost his job escape me. That moment, and the hours that followed, are a blur of shock and panic. What I remember is realising, months later, that this unexpected detour had turned me into what no one wants to be: a bitter person.
I first felt bitterness as a shocking, overwhelming urge – while setting the table for dinner – to wreak revenge on my husband’s former employer for throwing our lives into disarray. My husband had given himself vocationally to the organisation for a decade, and we had moved to a new country so he could take the job. We had oriented our lives around the place and, although work phone calls were a constant soundtrack to our lives, we were truly grateful that he had meaningful work to sustain us raising our family in such a beautiful part of the world.
Leaving our home and friends had been an enormous wrench, but it seemed worth it. We felt as if we were part of a community, and we made wonderful friends all over the world through his job. Promotion to a senior leadership role was my husband’s most recent reward – something he had worked so hard for – but suddenly everything changed.