I’m over at iBelieve.com discussing a difficult season for many marriages, when your husband hates his job…
Another night of silence and gloom, a dark cloud cast over our tiny apartment. Me: quietly keeping to myself, stealing glances his way, reading the same sentence over and over as I sit, compassionately concerned on the couch. Him: stewing in the corner, angrily hammering at the computer keyboard, working on his resume. Again. Like every other night this week. Because he just plain hates his job.
We’ve had a couple of these seasons in our 10 years of marriage. I am so very thankful we aren’t in one now. The memories of those times are still thick and tender.
How I sat on that couch feeling useless, lonely, scared, caught in the backwash of his frustrating vocation. Every husband is different, as is every wife. For us, the hating of his job manifested itself in cold, quiet evenings. My introverted husband retreated deeper and deeper into himself, leaving me alone in silence wondering, analyzing, mourning for him, for us, on my own.