IT’S ALL ‘MEH’

In the past week I’ve achieved nothing except a mini emotional breakdown. I tried to go into Wellington on the train, had an anxiety attack and ended up sobbing at Silverstream station. Kiwi picked me up and I sobbed on him some more, then we went home where we talked about the fact I’m going to go insane (too late – I HAVE gone insane) if we don’t get out of Upper Hutt and I sobbed even more. Once I’d stopped blubbering enough to have a sensible conversation, we sat down with an Excel spreadsheet and spent a couple of hours working out that we can’t afford to move into town yet. And let the blubbering commence again.

I don’t know what it is about Upper Hutt that depresses me so much – it’s probably a lot to do with the fact it’s too far out of the city for me to travel without anxiety issues, which leaves me stuck with nothing to do that I haven’t done already (it’s a small place). I’m used to living in a city where I can walk 10 minutes down the road and just get lost in some crowds and entertain myself window shopping and daydreaming and hunting out kitsch shops and quirky art galleries and the like. In a city there always something going on – a new shop to discover, a busker to watch, an event to check out. Every time I have managed to spend some time in Wellington I have been drawn to places which make me happy and make me feel like it is the home for me – Mighty Mighty’s market, Leftbank, any number of the ‘vintage’ second hand shops and cutesy trash shops like Mr Thankyou; the summer concerts in Frank Kitt’s Park, the coffee club on Chews Lane and the Botanical Gardens. Then I have to go back to the Hutt and a dark cloud descends on my mood.

It’s getting me down that I am no nearer working for myself too. I’m still waiting on hearing if I’ll be working on another UK project, but Kiwi has been inundated with his own work so my website is still at a standstill. Plus there’s not much business to be had in Upper Hutt (I’d guess there is none), so again we come up with the Wellington issue – so many companies to contact but if I had to travel in for interviews or meetings then I start to panic. What if I freak out on the train/in the car and can’t make it? I’m looking for a full time position at the moment; I think it’s the only way we’ll be able to move into Welly. If I get a job we can move in straight away, safe in the knowledge we have the finances to keep our heads above water. And since I’m spending my days watching TV, blogging, going for coffee at one of Upper Hutt’s five cafes, watching movies at the Ascot and generally blocking out the boredom which is crushing my enjoyment of life (I’ve stopped jogging and swimming and getting out of bed in the morning is only worth it because I look forward to some peanut butter on toast with a cup of tea). I NEED to work full time just to get out of the house and do something worthwhile.

To be fair, amongst all the self obsessed doom and gloom, I know there will be a happy ending and it will probably only be 6 months until we get there. That’s pretty good considering Cinderella, Rapunzel, Snow White and the rest waited for the first 25 years of their lives for their happy ending to happen, and they had it pretty shit up until that point. I’ve always had it pretty good, so a year glitch although frustrating is ok on the great scale of life. I do need to make the next six months bearable for myself though – I am my own worst enemy. I’m becoming emotional, I’m letting my mood overtake my motivation to do something positive for myself. And recently even work – the one thing which made me feel independent and productive – is no fun anymore. I’m becoming intolerant of a couple of people I work with (luckily one of them left last week) to the point I lose sleep because I’m tossing and turning with pure fury at night after letting them get to me. I thought working at a cinema would be completely hassle free – no stresses, just easy work and some laughs. And it was to begin with, but recently I’ve been getting home and thinking ‘I shouldn’t have to put up with that shit’.  Let’s just say there is a big difference in humour and tolerance of a 25 year old female Brit and a teenage boy from New Zealand. It’s not always going to make for a fun atmosphere.

So that’s it for the moment. It’s still ‘woe is me’; I still don’t feel like writing much because I don’t have much good to write about. But it’s Kiwi’s birthday tomorrow so I have to perk up and do something fun with him; because he feels the frustration too – we’re feeling sorry for ourselves together.

DAY 92(ish) – RESIDENCY APPLICATION

So ages ago I wrote a post called Day 1 – Residency Application. That was back in March. It’s now June and I’m on about Day 92ish and I STILL haven’t completed my application forms. I have been putting it off because it seems like such a mammoth task (it IS a mammoth task) and I didn’t even know where to start until yesterday. I decided to start by booking my medical examinations: a doctors examination, blood test and chest x-ray. The completed medical exam costs $400 and is only valid for 3 months which means I have to send my residency application off as soon as possible because if I am denied and I have to re-apply then I don’t want to pay another $400 for a second medical exam if I can help it.

Today I have been preparing for the medical exam by printing off the forms which the doctor, blood nurse and radiologist need to fill out and attaching passport photos of myself to what feels like every page, as well as filling out my personal details, again on every page. I have to supply five passport photos with my residency application and medical forms, along with the passport photo inside my passport (of course) and yet another photo which is attached to my police certificate which confirms my identity and that I am not wanted in the UK for criminal convictions and am not trying to evade the law. Why they want to see such a heinous picture of my face seven times over I have no idea; this is not the movie Face-Off. I haven’t attached someone-else’s face to my own, I can’t suddenly whip off my real-skin mask. Surely confirmation of my identity in my passport is enough?

Along with the forms I have to supply evidence that I am in a stable and genuine relationship with Kiwi and proof that we have lived together for 12 months or more. Cue irritating discovery today that I have joint tenancy agreements for the six months we lived together between June and December 2008, but not the tenancy agreements for the period between December 2007 and May 2008. We’ve actually lived together since July 2007 but I can’t really vouch for this since I don’t talk to my then housemates and I emailed Kiwi’s live-in landlady so she could vouch I lived at her house 24/7 from July until December 2007 but she never replied so I’ll take that as a ‘no I won’t help you’.

We’ve still got proof we’ve lived together for at least 12 months, but I’d rather show we don’t *just* meet the criteria, we have lived together for nearly 2 years. So it’s extra effort and extra paperwork to include other kinds of proof of living together, like 6 months worth of payslips and some house insurance documents. All this along with cards from our family and friends addressed to both of us, I’ve created a little photo album of our relationship (holiday snaps and the like), I’m asking friends and relatives to write letters to vouch for us, I’m having to photocopy bank statements, IRD correspondence, birth certificates and all manner of things which means that somebody at NZ immigration would easily be able to steal my identity. If they do, I’d just like to request that they be nice and leave me with the identity of someone much richer than I am in return.

One thing the form had me stumped at was the suggestion we provide evidence of “performed household duties”. Excuse me? What’s this got to do with the price of peas?! I can only be granted residency in New Zealand if I’m a good little woman and cook my man his dinner and know my place at the kitchen sink?? Do I have to do an ‘ironing aptitude test’ alongside my medicals? I think these forms are designed to put people off applying for residence. It’s like a full time job trying to fill everything in, photocopy a million documents and hunt out old love letters and far too personal emails all for the entertainment of an immigration officer. And if we’re especially lucky we might even be interviewed too! They’ll come to our house, put us into two rooms like they do in TV crime programmes and ask us questions like ‘what side of the bed do you sleep on?’, ‘who does the cooking?’, ‘how many hairs does he have on his chest?’, then compare notes afterwards.

So tomorrow I get to have a needle jabbed in my arm by a nurse, a doctor prod me all over and a radiologist slap some cold metal against my chest and make me all radioactive. Then I have to spend the next week gathering the dribs and drabs of missing information. Kiwi has his own little jobs to do to for my application – he has to find a Justice of the Peace to witness him signing his declaration that he is indeed my partner and therefore responsible for me (one step away from marriage surely?) and he has lost his birth certificate so he has to apply to be sent a copy. I’m glad it’s not just me being inconvenienced by it all (except I do it all and pay $1500 for the pleasure, whereas he gets to do it for free).

Anyway, talking of Kiwi he has just emerged from his hermit house (otherwise known as the office) and this is a rare occurrence so I’m going to make the most of it.

TIME OUT OF THE HUTT

I’m so tired. So, so tired. I think it’s the combination of working seven days in a row when I’m used to just two or three then a day or two off, added to the fact that winter is here and it’s cold. It’s all caught up with me and I’m tucked up in bed under a duvet and two blankets in the middle of the day, and my finger tips and the tip of my nose feel like icicles. I just want to fill my bedside drawers with food and hibernate here until spring. I’m still feeling a bit negative too so that adds to a general moroseness that makes my bed seem like the best place to stay; I’m not the most sociable person right now, I’m just too tired to make the effort.

I received my business cards today; the finished product. Once my website is finished, which will undoubtedly be sooner rather than later, then I have to stop talking about starting a business and actually start it. I have to stop thinking about making phone calls to companies and marketing myself and actually do it. And the prospect of all this scares me. It’s putting myself out there ready for rejection. It’s going to make or break my dream of working for myself so my self worth is hanging on me being successful. I don’t want a real day job, I’m not cut out for it – I was never a dedicated 9-5′er. At my old job I’d arrive late, every day. Even on my first day. In life I have never reacted well to being told what to do and when to do it. I prefer to do my own thing and let others do theirs. Luckily enough in my old job I was expected to just do my own thing and do it well. Nobody told me what and when to do something; not even on my first day. I had to make it up as I went along and I think I flourished in that environment. I know I won’t find a job that I fit into so well again, the only way I can work independently is to independently work. It’s just dawned on me that if I made it up as I went along in my old job, I can make it up as I go along now. I’ve got to stop thinking about things so much and worrying about every negative outcome, and just go with the flow. I’ll find out what works, and probably what doesn’t work too. From experience in sales and marketing I know that I will undoubtedly be rejected by nine out of ten people I contact (if not by 99 people out of 100), but the ones who turn you away aren’t the people that matter anyway.

I’ve spent some time getting out of Upper Hutt this week to remind myself that I don’t want to go home, I just don’t want to stay in Upper Hutt. On Friday I took a trip with Kiwi Girl and Little Red into Petone – it’s only twenty minutes out of the Hutt but it made a change nonetheless. We took a walk up and down the high street, window shopping in the little boutique and vintage shops. We went for lunch and coffee in a cafe that sold me the nicest muesli I have ever had, and sold Kiwi Girl the best pizza she says she’s ever had. I think it was called Cafe Fig. We also went to a shop which sells beads. Exclusively. Just beads. It was like an old fashioned sweet shop except in the jars were beads and not pick ‘n’ mix. The bead shop has all the stuff you need to make jewellery too so we put something together for a friend’s birthday present. And we plan to go back with a group of girls – it’s a really good place to shoot the breeze and add to your jewellery collection. A girly night is probably overdue for me and MUCH needed.

On Saturday I went into Wellington on the train for another afternoon out of Upper Hutt. I met up with another friend who I shall call Cat Woman. I think she’d prefer that over Cat Lady which is suggestive of a crazy old lady with a house full of feral cats. She’s actually a very sassy gal with just the one (very cute and fluffy) cat, and just to clarify she doesn’t wear black lycra jumpsuits or cat masks… At least not when I’ve seen her. She’s an old friend of Kiwi’s and she’s awesome. We met up for coffee at The Coffee Club on Chews Lane then she took me on a mini tour through the streets of Wellington. We then took the Cable Car up to the Botanical Gardens and walked back down through the garden to Thorndon where Cat Woman lives. After a quick change and house tour (which made me want to move into Wellington even more), Kiwi picked us up in the car and we went out for a few drinks at the Bristol on Cuba Street with another of his friends. Sadly the trip to Wellington was too much excitement for me for one day and me and Kiwi retired early back to the Hutt. But it was such a good day all the same, it brightened up my week and I think the only cure for this feeling of moroseness is a regular trip into Wellington, and more time spent with my lovely friends.

WHEN LIFE SUCKS, KICK IT UP THE ARSE

I am so homesick right now and I can’t get out of the constant funk I’m feeling. I’m not even sure that going home would fix the problem. Seeing my family and friends again won’t solve my financial situation and country-hopping doesn’t help me to find work. I know exactly what will make me feel happy again and it’s the fact that there’s nothing I can do about it instantly that is getting me down so much. I need to live in the city; I need a place in Wellington. I need a place of my own with Kiwi. I need to recreate the life we had for ourselves in Newcastle. We had only just settled into life together before we upped and left and now it’ll be another 6 months before we’ll be back where we were. And it’s already been nearly 5 months. And I can’t even see it happening in 6 months time; I can’t see how we’ll be able to save enough money, and to have an income consistent enough for us to afford to go it alone. I just don’t have a positive outlook at the moment and it’s not helping that a couple of nights ago Kiwi told me he has the same fears as I do. If he doesn’t believe that we’ll be fine, then how can I?

I think I need to make our situation into a project which I can fix; with goals and objectives and a time scale. I’ve been spending money on things which I think will make my life a nicer place to be; on coffee at a cafe, every day; on bits and pieces of make up; on second-hand clothing from Save Mart (just because it’s second-hand, doesn’t mean it’s free); on food while I’m at work; on waxing and haircuts and more coffee. It all adds up to me not having as many savings as I should or could. So it stops today. Well, actually tomorrow because I’ve already been out for coffee twice today. But today I have made a step in the right direction. In New Zealand, debit cards can have both your current and savings accounts attached to them. So if you haven’t got enough money in your current account, you press a button which says ’savings’, which debits the money from your savings account instead. And I haven’t used the ‘current’ account button in too long; what’s the point of calling them ’savings’ if I’m treating the money like it’s everyday cash? So I went to the bank just half an hour ago and I asked them to detatch my savings account from my debit card. If I need to spend money out of my savings I can still transfer money across, but I will think twice before doing so. I’m also going to take $50 out of my account in cash every payday. Once I have spent my $50, I won’t be able to spend anything until the following payday. I’m going to have to be VERY disciplined with myself about this, because I seem to have fallen off the budget wagon a little. But I got myself to New Zealand by tightening the purse strings and I will get myself into Wellington by doing the same; and since I’m already in the right country it should be 10 times easier, right?

So with my mind concentrated on getting to Wellington and with a financial plan in mind, I’m hoping I’ll cheer up by default. There’s something about homesickness that feels different to just being unhappy with something in your life. Homesickness actually hurts inside – it’s not just a case of toughen up and cheer up. You can put a smile on your face but it doesn’t make the ache in your chest go away. I feel like I’ve broken up with a boyfriend; like my heart’s broken. I guess it is in a way; there’s a lot that I have walked away from that was a part of me. I expressed it through the medium of Facebook yesterday and it looked a little something like this (you could read it to the tune of My Favourite Things from The Sound of Music… if you were so inclined):

All the things above make up who I am. It’s the things I enjoy, the things that made me smile, the things that were part of my every day. And I’m finding new things but it’ll take time before they become my every day. Right now they’re different to what I know is ‘me’. I’ve lost myself and I can’t expect to re-find a new self overnight. My new self vacuums up popcorn in a cinema, is a terrible Barista who makes awful coffee and takes too long to do it. My new self spends her days waiting for something exciting to come my way instead of siezing the day and creating the excitement for myself. My new self is in a funk which makes me mope in bed for too long in the mornings and miss the best part of the day. My new self hides away watching movies at the cinema, immersing myself in someone else’s life instead of facing my own. In fact I refuse to let this be my new self. It’s just going to be my ‘inbetween self’. Well watch your back inbetween self, cause I’m going to kick your arse into gear. And it starts tomorrow. Yes it does….