So, as I said, I got the job!
BUT instead of filling me with joy and happiness, I felt anxiety on new, deeper levels.
I drove my nearest and dearest mad as I just kept bursting into tears and worrying. I didn't make a decision straightaway - I had an interview for a temporary position nearby - for A LOT more money but without the certainty of a permanent role. The recruitment consultant was a complete nightmare - so pushy and so churlish. I had to speak to my own regular temporary manager (when I worked at the call centre) for guidance - it was a different recruitment firm, in the nearest big town.
In many ways I was torn - which job should I take but, having said that, I never got a firm offer on the temporary role - just lots of hints from their HR department via the recruitment consultant that I just had to show my hand first. And that's when I had to really try to tune into my instinct - which had run away, just when I needed it - to find out what was the best thing to do. After all, the temporary job was a commute of just over an hour versus a commute of more than two. It was an area that I am not particularly interested in but I know my subject matter and could do the job. But I really would only be doing THAT job (the temporary one) for the money. The job I have taken could really be amazing but obviously after my hideous interview situation, I couldn't be sure!
Anyway, in the end, I had to make a decision constricted by time. So I jumped into the deep end and committed to the permanent role.
But the price is very, very high and here's why:
1) The commute - as I have said, it's going to easily be 5 hours per day, once I've included the putting on my coat and packing my bags factor! I have never been a commuter - only within London - and funnily enough, if I lived where I used to live, I would have serious reservations about having to cross the capital for a job. Well, I've just doubled that - just for the hell of it!
2) The cost of the commute - we're talking thousands of pounds!
3) The reality of the commute - I will be leaving the house no later than 7am and, if I need to be at my desk for 9am, I'll be leaving the house at...oh, 6.20 am. If I then am very strict and leave at 5pm, I will be at home for 7.40pm. So, if I want 8 hours sleep, I'll be going to bed no later than 10pm. Just so I can get up before 6am and start all over again!
And this is where the fun really begins - the husband and the dog won't be here.
First - the hound! It simply would not be fair on her to leave her - even if I got a dog walker sorted. It's just too long. Sadly, my dog sitting back up situation fell through. I could take her to a dog sitter but that would cost me £100 per week, minimum. Believe me, I have looked into it.
Second - the husband. He has changed jobs. But he's in the same line of work but, this time, with a guarantee of a posting ie away. So, Monday - Friday, he won't be here either. Occasionally, he may be able to work from home on a Friday.
After last summer's hideousness of Sunday night binges through sheer desperation, this just isn't ideal.
4) Home Life - there are no two ways about it - this is not going to make home life easy. Not at all. And, truth be told, I still haven't given up on trying to have a family. In fact, of late, I've been thinking how much I loved having the lodger here, my mum and the dogs and my husband. I liked the camaraderie of having a full house. If I think about it, my new reality couldn't be further away from my ideal life.
My husband and I discovered that we didn't really like being apart, in spite of arguing so much when we are together!
It has made me question our move here; what is the point, I thought, of having completely rebuilt this house, only to not be here - not really - for most of the time. Hmmm.
5) Flexibility - this job was initially presented to me as a work from home two days a week, come into London for the other three. How perfect would that have been? 100 per cent. Well, if it had been on this side of London, THEN it would have been perfect! But as the interview process went on (I had a total of three interviews), it was clear that their idea of flexible working isn't mine. Before I accepted finally, I asked them to clarify this. But I just wasn't assertive enough to say - this could be a deal breaker - if I don't get this written into my contract. One of my closest friends advised me that they would never do this as it would be a licence to part-time work!! But I ran my business from home and when necessary, I worked extremely hard.
Anyway, the tears continued. The constant anxiety continued. I bored my friends rigid - well, I didn't - I just got hysterical/tearful and frustrated them instead! One friend said that she believed the tears were grief-based - that I was grieving for the life that I really wanted (family, at home, working without a hideous commute - blah blah blah) and facing up to what I really had right now.
In the meantime, I thought you would like to see my goals sheet from my very first LighterLife session ie the reason I started this VLCD malarkey in the first place. Apologies for the poor drawings but basically it represents me, my husband, our remodelled house (by then we hadn't even got planning permission), the dog (of course) and a car. And, bizarrely, I made of point of writing HIGH HEELS; clearly I equated heels with slim-ness!
Right now, I feel I am further away from this picture than ever before. Hmmmmm.
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