Apologies, everyone, for being so economical with the news
of late. Life has been a bit of a
struggle over the last month or so, which has made writing for immediate public
consumption difficult. Now that I have
some more positive news to relate, I feel more able to write down how things
have been going.
It’s tempting to forget about the whole sorry mess, particularly as
things are now looking up, but I’m conscious that this gives a false impression. A friend of mine recently told me that, when
she’d been going through a bad patch, she had to remove herself totally from
Facebook, because she couldn’t bear hearing about everybody else’s perfect
lives. Now, I am fully aware that nobody
wants to be dragged down by others moaning on endlessly and this is why we tend
to spare people the details of the downsides, at least in written form. Of course, my nearest and dearest have been
subjected to many of my plaintive cries and my eternal gratitude is theirs for
their forbearance. But all the same, the
result of focusing only on the upsides of life is so unbalanced, I think. And this has been one helluva month with a fair bit of ups and downs. More than can be recorded here, but here's a flavour (and I’ll try to make it
bearable):
The arrival of February, the third month of our residence in
Australia, heralded the point at which a) the job market was due to pick up
after the lull of Christmas and New Year; and b) the rental market back home
should have been improving.
Sadly, February’s kick-off appeared rather less than
promising. Both of us were still
unemployed and staying at Matt’s sister’s house. But Pam and Mabs’s place, which had been a
beautiful haven over the Christmas break, being situated as it is in the heart
of a conservation reserve and surrounded by fragrant eucalypts, was now removed
from the action we needed to be a part of.
If we’re all honest, their domestic arrangements had never been designed
to accommodate two extra people. School
had resumed for the children and the house bustled with frantic scholastic and
extra-curricular activity. Life was
continuing for those that had one and this brought the dissatisfactory nature
of ours into sharp relief. Generic
rejection letters piled up in my in-box and our savings were rapidly
diminishing due to the high cost of living here on the one hand and the continued
drain on our resources of our Glasgow flat, still unlet, on the other.
Matt was coping manfully with the situation – that is to say
that he was able to maintain a relatively even keel by stressing quietly
underneath the calm exterior. I was a
different matter, however. Being unemployed and homeless – and reliant on the
kindness of other people you hardly know – is so utterly disempowering, even if
you know that it is only for a limited time.
I can’t imagine what it is like for people who have no belief about the
future or any view of an end in sight. I’m
conscious that, in the grand scheme of setting up a life on the other side of
the world, three months is hardly a long time to be without a firm direction
and definite means of living. But
knowing this didn’t help much in February, I have to confess. I can’t describe how wearing it is to
question constantly oneself, the quality of one’s CV, one’s professional
capacity when none of these are resulting in any job offers. Add to this the feeling of constantly putting
people out and the lack of personal space and adequate description drifts even
further from my grasp. But trust me, it’s
very wearing. A lot!
One of the problems for me was that there were very few
career relevant jobs even advertised in Brisbane. Moreover, the labour market there remains
saturated with newly redundant public sector workers. As February progressed, Matt began to get
invites for interviews and trial shifts in various different kitchens and he
finally got a job on a casual basis at the Brisbane Convention Centre. As Matt has often says about his profession: ‘Rich
or poor, people gotta eat!’ Meanwhile, I
got nothing. Not a peep out of
anyone. We both knew that without two
incomes, our ability to remain solvent was going to be critically challenged. Additionally, I was aware that without a job,
my ability to make the social and professional connections I needed for my
sanity was also limited. I am still
relatively new to social media and am still learning how to use it to build
connections and to network. I also
lacked the positive energy needed to try new and innovative ways of
establishing my life in a new city without employment or a place to stay. How could I work or set up a small business from
home without a home? Others more dynamic than I could probably have found a
way, but I quickly realised that I didn’t have what it took at this point in
time.
Something had to change before I was overcome with a severe
and terminal dose of the screaming heebie-jeebies. They were already making their presence felt,
much to Matt’s alarm. He took to
approaching me tentatively, at an angle, with morsels of food, in the manner of
a ranger dealing with a wounded rhinoceros.
By the end of the first week of February, I found myself tearfully
spilling my guts on the phone to a friend in Melbourne, who immediately
suggested that I move my job search there.
Amazing star that she is, she also offered to put me up for as long as I
needed to conduct my search. (She may
yet live to regret this offer.) With her
encouragement therefore, I began to apply for positions in Melbourne where
opportunities appeared to be far more plentiful than in Brisbane, and I booked
a flight for the following week. Finally,
I felt like I had the reins of my life firmly in my grip again. Having reached a dead end, I was changing direction
and trying something different. I would
also get the opportunity to benefit from a bit of space and time to gather my
wits and reflect on where I was going.
My arrival in Melbourne coincided with another
Melbourne-based friend’s launch event for the publication of her first book. http://scribepublications.com.au/books-authors/title/high-sobriety/. What an amazing event! Jill’s book tracks the ups and downs of a
year she spent without booze and examines some of the social and health factors
influencing Australia’s attitude to alcohol.
The power of this book rests in the frank record of her personal struggle
which infuses her social analysis with meaning and a reality to which everyone
can relate, even if their personal struggle lies elsewhere. I could go on to rant at length about public
policy needing to take better account of human reality but I’ll hold off. For now.
I think the launch event was so brilliant for various reasons, but
mainly it was because it represented the culmination of a gargantuan amount of
effort, commitment and bravery on Jill’s part and everyone present had observed
this or been with her along the way. The
feeling in the room was electric. Then
of course there was the fact that the whole thing was happening in Fitzroy –
one of the funkiest suburbs of Melbourne. Oh and the cheeky wee glass of bubbly didn’t
hurt either. What a reintroduction to
the city!
In the two weeks that followed, things started happening. I was asked to three interviews. The last of the three resulted in a call from
one of the interviewers stating their intention to check my references, so
hopefully my unemployed days are numbered.
The feedback from all the interviews has been really positive and people
have gone out of their way to say encouraging things, which has overwhelmed me. The only fly in the ointment is the price I
have paid for this: Matt and I are having to stay apart for a while. We’ve decided that it’s best if he keeps
working away up in Brisbane, so we’ve at least one income coming in and the
burden of accommodating us physically is spread across more than one household.
In other news, our stuff has arrived from the UK and been
put in storage until we find a place and – Thank Heaven and my support team back
home – the Glasgow flat is finally let.
Things are definitely looking up.
