Ups and downs

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.