The moment when my relationship with the woman who is now my wife came closest to collapsing occurred during the final semester of our college years. At that time, we were already several years into a relationship that had begun in high school — the kind of young romance that most people assume will fade once real life begins. Yet, against expectations, we had nurtured a stable and affectionate bond through the demanding years of long distance. She studied engineering at The Ohio State University, while I completed my degree at Miami University, a two-hour drive away — close enough to make visits feasible, yet far enough that every goodbye felt like a small heartbreak.
As graduation approached, she was already preparing to step confidently into her professional life. She had received an offer for a promising engineering position that, while exciting and impressive, required a high degree of geographical mobility. Her role would involve relocating across the United States every several months — a thrilling prospect for her career, but an intimidating one for me personally. I could not have been prouder of her, nor more genuinely supportive of her achievements, yet I felt the mounting pressure of our situation. Long-distance had already extracted its toll, and the idea of beginning our post-college years still separated by miles weighed heavily on me. Moreover, the realization dawned that accompanying her on her cross-country rotations would make it extremely difficult for me to establish my own professional trajectory. Following her to new cities every few months would mean constantly starting anew — resending resumes, reintroducing myself to different job markets, and once again being the newcomer in unfamiliar places. Nonetheless, love outweighed practicality. I understood that my commitment to her was foundational, worth the sacrifices it entailed. And so, before her first assignment began, we chose to marry, sealing our shared future with a beautiful wedding attended by nearly everyone dear to us — friends, family, mentors, all celebrating the beginning of our joint adventure.
In the months and years that followed, our marriage became a traveling story — a life in motion. We discovered joy in experiencing different parts of the country together, building memories in places we had previously known only through maps and travel blogs. Yet, beneath that happiness, I confronted an unforgiving reality: my own career ambitions struggled to find stable ground. The rhythm of constant relocation — usually every eight months, dictated by my wife’s job rotations — made it nearly impossible to sustain traditional employment. Short stays disqualified me from many opportunities; employers wanted candidates rooted in the community, not individuals about to relocate. When we started in Ohio, I still held onto optimism. I applied for numerous writing and reporting roles, securing an interview at a local newspaper whose editors were searching urgently for a new reporter. They appreciated my writing samples, and over coffee we discussed the paper’s vision of hiring someone who could cultivate strong relationships with local businesses. When I inquired how long it might take to truly assume that role — to become recognized and trusted within the community — they estimated at least six months. The implication was clear: by the time I built those connections, I would already be gone. I saw the realization dawn in their faces as it did in mine — our timelines simply did not align.
Understanding these limitations, I pivoted to exploring remote work options — positions that would allow continuity despite our transient lifestyle. However, I quickly discovered that obtaining meaningful, fully remote employment in today’s competitive environment is far from straightforward. Many remote positions were in sectors tied to the rapid advancement of artificial intelligence — a field I personally approached with hesitation and moral apprehension. As a writer deeply concerned about the implications of AI on creative professions, I deliberately avoided participating in projects aimed at training or refining these systems, even if such roles were the easiest to find. Recruiters on LinkedIn repeatedly contacted me about similar opportunities, praising my background as a perfect fit. Temptation loomed as rejections piled up, yet with encouragement from my wife and my mother — both reminding me of the importance of staying true to my principles — I resisted accepting a role that would compromise my ethics.
Eventually, necessity guided me toward the flexible, often unpredictable world of the gig economy. I entered it cautiously, aware of the many cautionary tales from freelancers and gig workers — stories of financial instability, erratic workloads, and the psychological strain of uncertainty. Fortunately, my wife’s dependable salary provided a vital safety net during the early stages of this transition. I began by accepting temporary work as a substitute teacher while simultaneously teaching myself the discipline and business of freelance writing. Though it was not the career path I had envisioned when I received my journalism degree — I had always pictured myself working full-time at a local newspaper, collaborating daily with a newsroom staff — freelancing gradually revealed its own rewards. I learned how to pitch stories to editors, manage unpredictable income, and adapt quickly to each new city’s rhythms. Over time, I found satisfaction in the autonomy the work offered.
Some days, I still miss the camaraderie of being part of a fixed team — shared lunches, office banter, the reassuring consistency of colleagues and a single workplace. Yet that sense of longing quickly softens when I remember the trade-offs: the ability to accompany my wife wherever her career takes her, the privilege of supporting her growth, and the freedom to reinvent myself with every move. Freelancing, though born of necessity, has become a symbol of resilience and adaptability in my life — proof that stability can exist even amid perpetual motion, and that love, persistence, and flexibility can anchor a person more securely than any single location ever could.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/move-every-few-months-for-wife-job-challenging-2025-11
