Moving to the other side of the world
After completing University, and thankfully losing all my travelling weight, I decided to give up my entire life and move to the other side of the world for the man I loved. When I think about it now, it sounds so stupid, but at the time I loved him and really thought it was what I ought to do. Of course, I didn’t really want to move. I was quite happy living back in the UK while I was at University, but also I still felt like I had so much of the rest of world to go and see. However, I knew Guy, at that stage in his life, could not leave his company and so I decided to sacrifice a few years of my life, on the condition that, after that time, we would both return to the UK to live happily ever after. Of course, that didn’t happen, and to be honest, I really don’t think Guy ever intended to keep his side of the bargain.
Although I hoped things would be different that time, as soon as I landed, the bitchiness and bullying from his sisters started all over again, and I have to say it was exhausting. I immediately felt isolated and alone, and I was often left out of family events and gatherings. I think, after a while, I even began to change the person that I was. The sisters’ constant putdowns about my clothes, my friends, my family, my housekeeping and my cooking were hurtful and definitely began to take their toll. As my self-confidence began to plummet, I began to withdraw from social events, preferring to stay at home alone. That obviously only fuelled the fire, as hurtful remarks like ‘loner,’ ‘no friends’ and ‘ungrateful bitch’ were slung at me. The only time I was truly happy was when Guy and I spent time alone together, but what with his work and his family, those times were few and far between.
At that time, I had entered on a tourist visa, so I could not work for the first six months. Obviously, this ‘lady of leisure lifestyle’ only continued to fuel the fire of his sisters’ hatred, but it definitely was not all it was cracked up to be. I was, of course, very lonely. All my backpacker friends were long gone, so I knew very few people. I spent most of my days either at the gym or at home cleaning (which apparently was never done to the correct standard for Guy or his family). The only thing I looked forward to was Guy coming home from work, which at times was past midnight. I felt more like Cinderella than ever.
Although I became very unhappy, Guy seemed not to notice—or, once again, if he did notice, he chose to ignore it. I had thought, and hoped, that after I made the huge sacrifice to move countries for our relationship, maybe his sisters would include me in their social lives, even just a little, and that would have given me the chance to make friends, but that never happened.
I did go to the spa for the day with the youngest sister, Kacey, one weekend. I remember being so excited that she had asked me, but even the drive to the spa was awkward, to say the least. I began to realise that although we weren’t screaming and shouting at each other we were both just being polite and trying our hardest to get along, but we had nothing in common whatsoever. Then, after I heard her on the phone complaining about having to babysit the weird British girl to one of the other sisters while I was having my facial, I realised Guy had forced her into it. Although it made me a little sad that she had to be forced into it, the sadness was very much outweighed by the happiness that Guy did actually care about me and understood that me making friends in Sydney would be vital to both of our happiness. None of the sisters ever included me in any of their social events again, but I was secretly glad. The awkwardness and silence between all of us when Guy wasn’t around was unbearable.
After six months, Guy and I had an interview for a spouse visa so I would be able to work and stay in Australia. During the process, we were separated and asked questions about how we had met and what colour each other’s toothbrushes were, etc., etc. I recall being led into a small room at the Department of Immigration by a small Australian lady called Sarah. Guy was led in a different direction by a tall geeky looking Australian man. Sarah was very nice, but if anything, a bit too nice. Looking back, her first question was an obvious one, but at the time it caught me completely off guard. Guy had, of course, coached me through every single detail of what to say—from our first holiday, to why I loved him, to who does the housework, to a list of our mutual friends, to what we do on the weekends, to what colour his toothbrush was. All so we could prove we had been in a relationship for two years, which was the minimum requirement. But, stupidly, he had not prepared me for Sarah’s first question of ‘Why do you want to live in Australia?’ I was so shocked by the question, as I was all ready to go with a list of things I loved about Guy. Instead, my emotions got the better of me and tears immediately start to well up in my eyes. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach because I knew how angry Guy would be if I messed this up, but holding back the tears, I still blurted out, ‘I don’t!’
I don’t think Sarah had ever been given that answer before, and she was caught off guard herself. She responded, annoyed, with ‘Well, why are you here?’
As I started to tell her, through sobbing tears, that I really just wanted to go home, I really think she felt for me. A small part of me hoped my visa would be denied, as then I would have the perfect excuse to say to Guy, ‘Ok, I tried Australia; now you can try the UK.’ However, my visa was not denied. Apparently, Guy aced his interview with answers such as, ‘If this doesn’t work out, I will have to move my company to the UK to be with the woman I love and a number of young Australian families would lose their incomes.’
One week later, I was sent a letter in the post declaring I could now work in Australia. Although I was still very homesick the news did make me happy, as work meant people and possibly friends! One month later I started a job at a hospital right in the middle of Sydney. The first person I was introduced to there was the administrative assistant and her name was Elly. She had the most gorgeous long dark hair, complete with the most beautiful girl next door looks, and was so welcoming and warm. She always seemed to be smiling and was so confident in herself, I remember thinking ‘O I hope I’m cool enough to be her friend’. Asking her out for a drink that first Friday night was scary as hell (scarier than asking a man out I think!), but it was one of the best things I did in Sydney. Although she probably had a number of better things to do with her Friday night she jumped at the chance and we clicked immediately, she was a girl’s girl just like me.
Before Guy and I broke up, I actually went on to be granted permanent residency in Australia—one of the better things to come out of our relationship, for sure. ‘Sometimes the wrong choices take us to the right places.’ — Unknown.