Time flies when you’re busy living, right? Where to begin...
About a year ago, my husband and I were stuck in a rut with our professional lives. My fellowship was nearing its end, and there was no guarantee that there would be a job waiting for me at the end of the year. I knew that chances were slim, as the organization had half of it’s funding slashed due to budget cuts. Even if there was a job opening, I wanted something permanent. I was not willing to settle for another short-term position. My husband was unhappy as well. While he had a stable job, he had outgrown his position. His upward mobility was limited by his superiors and, ultimately, he was bored.
Truth be told, my nyab duties (and his vauv duties) were starting to take a toll on us as well. Every other weekend, there would be some sort of event that required our presence (you other nyabs and vauvs know what I am talking about: ua neeb, weddings, manual labor). It was physically draining. We were lucky if we got an entire weekend to ourselves more than once a month. I am not saying our parents are overly demanding-- they absolutely were not. They would always ask if we can make it home to help, but we just couldn’t find it in our hearts to say no. So we always obliged, even though it was wearing us down.
After a while, our professional and personal stressors began to bleed into our relationship. Our work lives sucked and our weekends were hectic. There was just no time to focus on our needs. Our future looked bleak. We spent many nights discussing (and arguing about) our future. While we able to pay the bills and put food on the table, we didn’t feel like we were getting any closer to the financial freedom that we both desired. We just felt... stuck.
We eventually decided to seek jobs elsewhere. The region we lived in was too suburban/rural for the professional growth that we both craved. Plus, we were not so “settled” in our careers that a move would harm us. In fact, we were both still entry-level, which meant that the only place to go, was up! We had no kids, no mortgage to tie us down. We were in our mid-twenties, with plenty of excitement and passion to travel and to explore a new city. The timing was perfect for us. There was nothing to hold us back... well, except for our families.
Words cannot explain the amount of conflicting emotions that I had at the time. In order to chase my dreams, I would have to forsake my duties as a nyab, as a daughter. Who would help our parents if we moved? My husband and I have siblings, but both sets of parents have always relied heavily on the two of us. Who was going to help my mom clean up her kitchen when she was too tired? Who was going to make sure my father-in-law had a fresh supply of the sweet bread that he loves? I worried endlessly. I worried about what my in-laws would think. Would they think that I am a bad nyab for choosing to move away? I already made the nontraditional choice to not move in with my in-laws when my husband and I married, and I knew this would be another strike against me.
I felt so much guilt. Guilt for wanting to move. Guilt for wanting to explore what else the world had in store for us. Guilt that I would never be that perfect nyab. Guilt that I never even wanted to be a perfect nyab.
Luckily, I have a great husband. A husband who knew from day one that I would never be the perfect nyab, but loved me anyway. When I explained my fears to him, he was real with me:: this would not be a popular decision with the uncles and aunts, but he knew that our parents would give us their blessing. Why? Because they only want the best for us. Plus, they want to be sure we won’t put them in nursing homes. (Ha, I’m kidding about that one.) We eventually discussed with our parents, and, as predicted, both sets of parents gave us their blessings. The best part? No one called me a bad nyab or my husband a bad vauv! We did get a few lectures from our aunts and uncles, but nothing terrible. With nothing left to hold us back, we were free to start searching.
Eventually my husband received a great offer in a large metropolis. He took up on the offer and I was able to find a job in my field fairly quickly. I will leave our transition story for another post, but I will say that things worked out and we are very happy. I am in currently talks for my second promotion (and third raise!) this year, and my husband has been scouted for future opportunities that may prove to very lucrative.
Looking back, we may have made a reckless decision. We had no safety net. If things didn’t pan out, we would have crawled back home with our tails between our legs and not a penny to our name. Things could have gone very bad. But, I like to think that we approached the decision carefully. We took a calculated risk and it paid off handsomely for us. The only regret we have is moving so far away from our families. We just hope that this is a sacrifice that is not made in vain. By taking this chance, we actually have the opportunity to guarantee that our parents will be able to live comfortably in their later years. And trust me, we are working very hard to ensure that that does happen.
About a year ago, my husband and I were stuck in a rut with our professional lives. My fellowship was nearing its end, and there was no guarantee that there would be a job waiting for me at the end of the year. I knew that chances were slim, as the organization had half of it’s funding slashed due to budget cuts. Even if there was a job opening, I wanted something permanent. I was not willing to settle for another short-term position. My husband was unhappy as well. While he had a stable job, he had outgrown his position. His upward mobility was limited by his superiors and, ultimately, he was bored.
Truth be told, my nyab duties (and his vauv duties) were starting to take a toll on us as well. Every other weekend, there would be some sort of event that required our presence (you other nyabs and vauvs know what I am talking about: ua neeb, weddings, manual labor). It was physically draining. We were lucky if we got an entire weekend to ourselves more than once a month. I am not saying our parents are overly demanding-- they absolutely were not. They would always ask if we can make it home to help, but we just couldn’t find it in our hearts to say no. So we always obliged, even though it was wearing us down.
After a while, our professional and personal stressors began to bleed into our relationship. Our work lives sucked and our weekends were hectic. There was just no time to focus on our needs. Our future looked bleak. We spent many nights discussing (and arguing about) our future. While we able to pay the bills and put food on the table, we didn’t feel like we were getting any closer to the financial freedom that we both desired. We just felt... stuck.
We eventually decided to seek jobs elsewhere. The region we lived in was too suburban/rural for the professional growth that we both craved. Plus, we were not so “settled” in our careers that a move would harm us. In fact, we were both still entry-level, which meant that the only place to go, was up! We had no kids, no mortgage to tie us down. We were in our mid-twenties, with plenty of excitement and passion to travel and to explore a new city. The timing was perfect for us. There was nothing to hold us back... well, except for our families.
Words cannot explain the amount of conflicting emotions that I had at the time. In order to chase my dreams, I would have to forsake my duties as a nyab, as a daughter. Who would help our parents if we moved? My husband and I have siblings, but both sets of parents have always relied heavily on the two of us. Who was going to help my mom clean up her kitchen when she was too tired? Who was going to make sure my father-in-law had a fresh supply of the sweet bread that he loves? I worried endlessly. I worried about what my in-laws would think. Would they think that I am a bad nyab for choosing to move away? I already made the nontraditional choice to not move in with my in-laws when my husband and I married, and I knew this would be another strike against me.
I felt so much guilt. Guilt for wanting to move. Guilt for wanting to explore what else the world had in store for us. Guilt that I would never be that perfect nyab. Guilt that I never even wanted to be a perfect nyab.
Luckily, I have a great husband. A husband who knew from day one that I would never be the perfect nyab, but loved me anyway. When I explained my fears to him, he was real with me:: this would not be a popular decision with the uncles and aunts, but he knew that our parents would give us their blessing. Why? Because they only want the best for us. Plus, they want to be sure we won’t put them in nursing homes. (Ha, I’m kidding about that one.) We eventually discussed with our parents, and, as predicted, both sets of parents gave us their blessings. The best part? No one called me a bad nyab or my husband a bad vauv! We did get a few lectures from our aunts and uncles, but nothing terrible. With nothing left to hold us back, we were free to start searching.
Eventually my husband received a great offer in a large metropolis. He took up on the offer and I was able to find a job in my field fairly quickly. I will leave our transition story for another post, but I will say that things worked out and we are very happy. I am in currently talks for my second promotion (and third raise!) this year, and my husband has been scouted for future opportunities that may prove to very lucrative.
Looking back, we may have made a reckless decision. We had no safety net. If things didn’t pan out, we would have crawled back home with our tails between our legs and not a penny to our name. Things could have gone very bad. But, I like to think that we approached the decision carefully. We took a calculated risk and it paid off handsomely for us. The only regret we have is moving so far away from our families. We just hope that this is a sacrifice that is not made in vain. By taking this chance, we actually have the opportunity to guarantee that our parents will be able to live comfortably in their later years. And trust me, we are working very hard to ensure that that does happen.