solo in sydney

The Waiting Game
April 29, 2010, 9:40 am
Filed under: dear diary, depression

I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since I went to work. It’s been a matter of weeks, but I honestly can’t recall how many. After constantly emailing my boss and telling him I still wasn’t well enough to work, I finally received the response I’d been expecting for months. He’d hired someone else. That someone else would be sitting at my desk, in my chair, using my computer, from the next week onwards. My boss told me to take another two weeks off to rest and recover, and then “we’d talk”.

My heart sank. My chest ached. My eyes stung.

I’d replied almost straight away and basically begged to come back, but I didn’t receive a reply. That was two weeks ago. A week ago, I emailed again, hopeless and pitiful, saying that I was feeling better, that I was ready to go back to work. I lied.

And still, no response.

He’d finally had enough. I’d been replaced. I understood. In fact, I was surprised that it had taken so long to end like this. I cried. I thought about all my amazing colleagues, some of them true friends. I thought about my incredible boss, who had been so supportive and understanding to the very end. I cried even harder.

Then I thought about how I was going to find another job. I thought about the anxiety of applying, of interviews, of knockbacks and rejections, and hopefully, but fearfully, of first days and introductions. I panicked.

Then I realised I’d have to tell J. I stopped panicking, I stopped crying, I stopped breathing.

As soon as I read that first email, I decided I wouldn’t tell him yet. I’d just keep up the charade for a little longer, and then tell him once I’d had “the talk” with my boss. That gave me two weeks to prepare, but it also meant two weeks of lying to J’s face. This week, I just gave up and told J that my boss had told me to have this week off and start back next week. It was wishful thinking, but it was a lie. J was livid. He’s still livid that I haven’t been able to hand over multiple thousands of dollars to him, so this was just another reason for him to yell, and slam doors, and storm out.

This week hasn’t been enjoyable, but I’ve been coping. I’ve been keeping reasonably normal hours, cooking and cleaning and finishing projects I’ve been neglecting. I’ve been baking and gardening and checking the mail and running errands. I’ve been doing just about everything but telling J that I don’t have a job to return to on Monday. I’ve barely even been thinking about how to tell him, because every time the thought crosses my mind, I’m struck by such a violent wave of nausea that I can barely stand.

The whole disaster has been messing with my sleep, but last night I didn’t sleep at all. As soon as J left this morning, I relocated my misery to the couch and prepared myself for another day of fervent procrastination.

And then my phone vibrated, a single, innocent buzz.

An email from my boss. He’s glad to hear I’m doing better, and I can start back on Monday.


April 25, 2010, 4:25 am
Filed under: dear diary, depression

I called my therapist yesterday. I hadn’t been to him in over a year which no doubt accounts for the sad state of affairs in my corner. I was going every few weeks until I started my new job, then one day I just stopped going. Things were good. My job was good. Things with J were not quite good, but improving. Promising, at least.

But then slowly, everything unravelled and I’m right back where I started, except this time I don’t have a boyfriend who’s trying to understand  – I have a boyfriend who thinks he does understand, and is absolutely certain that I should be “better” by now.

So I decided it was time to go back to that comfortable room, sit in the comfortable chair, and talk to my comforting therapist.

I called. I left a message. I waited. I called again. I waited some more.

My therapist isn’t returning my calls.

Happy Place
April 22, 2010, 6:16 pm
Filed under: dear diary

I’m back at my park for the first time in few weeks. It’s not that I’m doing better and have been too busy working. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I haven’t been to work in 2 weeks, but J hasn’t said anything when he found me at home, staring blankly at the walls.

Until yesterday, at least. My loan was finally approved and paid out, and I was ecstatic that I was finally one step closer to independence. It’s the first time I’ve felt any real positive emotion in weeks, probably longer.

In my excitement, I let J know almost straight away, only to have him ask how much I’d be transferring him. He wanted thousands instantly, because apparently he’d been relying on it. First I’d heard of this so-called reliance. Never mind the thousands he’s recently spent on TVs and computers, he wanted the money, his money, now.

Just one problem. My loan wasn’t a cash loan and there was nothing I could do to change that. The bank could only put money onto my credit cards, nobody elses. You’d think that someone who works in finance would understand this, but J was livid.

The most infuriating part is that I asked him to help me choose a loan, I even asked if he’d sign up for a joint loan with me, and he couldn’t have been bothered doing either. So I did it myself to the best of my knowledge, I tried to get a loan that I could afford on my own, but that would allow me to pay J back over time too.

But I failed. I’m greedy and selfish because I can’t hand over thousands to him this instant. I should have done more research, asked more questions, and most of all, told him that I wouldn’t be able to pay him thousands outright, even though I had no idea this was what he was expecting.

He stormed in, asked if I’d made dinner, then stormed back out again when I said no. He came back 20 minutes later with his version of grocery shopping (soft drink, lollies and dessert) and dinner. For him. He sat in front of me, ate his dinner without a word, then went to bed. He left this morning, again silent.

I was happy for roughly 5 minutes. I was excited and relieved, and when I wanted nothing more than for J to be happy for and with me, he wanted nothing but an argument.

So I’m back in my park, trying to look composed as I tap this into my phone, and trying to look unphased by the fast-fading light. I don’t want to go home, but I can’t even afford to buy anything to warrant an extended stay at a local cafe.

It wasn’t meant to be like this.

April 5, 2010, 2:20 am
Filed under: dear diary

I’m a little shocked that it’s been exactly a month since I last posted here. I’m not exactly sure what’s gone on in the meantime to keep me away from writing. It’s been a confusing month, and I think I was just hoping I could figure a few things out before I sat down and typed another word, but it really hasn’t worked out that way.

So March, in summary.

  • I’m flat broke. My personal loan hasn’t come through yet, my credit cards are maxed out, and I have $6.00 to my name. My pay hasn’t come through for the few days I have worked in the last fortnight, and J is picking up all the bills again.
  • J is “flat broke”. He complains consistently about the lack of money, how terrible things are, how we’ll need to move to a smaller place in a less ideal location. Yet in the last month, he’s bought a huge new plasma television and a new laptop.
  • Worse still is that after these two completely unnecessary purchases, J’s car broke down, and now he can’t afford to get it fixed straight away and that is entirely my fault.
  • Just when I was getting back into the swing of going back to work, J dropped a bombshell on me. He was into the second round of interviews for a job back in my hometown. He started talking about “when” we moved back, where we’d move to, what job I’d do, how good it would be for me to be back near my friends and family. I told him outright, that if I move back to my hometown any time soon, it won’t be with him. He’s since made it to the third round of interviews, but he hasn’t mentioned anything since. After weeks of talking of “when”, he finally got the point that I was going to stay in Sydney, with or without him.

And last, but by no means least, I’m laughing again. I’m smiling, and joking around, and I feel special again. With someone who isn’t J. I’m still hesitant to even write about it, because not only is it such a silly little one-sided infatuation, I also fear that J will somehow find this site in my computer history and know that the bulk of it is about him.

I guess if he does happen to come across this post, he can be satisfied in the knowledge that I have so little self confidence left that the fear of being on my own again is almost paralysing. If he does read about my one-sided infatuation with someone who makes me laugh like he no longer does, he’ll be happy to know that I’ve already convinced myself I’m not worthy of even momentary happiness.

And still, I find myself craving those moments. Some small corner of my brain has woken up and is telling me that maybe I do deserve it, maybe I can be single again, happy again. So I’m going to enjoy my few frivilous moments of laughter with…let’s call him B. They may be one-sided, they may be completely innocent, but they’re also the moments that are getting me out of bed.