It’s Sunday evening, and I’m sat in my bedroom utterly depressed. Monday tomorrow, which I’m sure everyone else who works 9-5 Monday to Friday shall agree, sucks. Monday should be a swear word. In fact, from now on I shall star out the letters. Screw you, M****y.

I’ve been at this job a month, and still hate it as much as my first day.
Despite hating every second of it, I was relieved when I was told by my manager that as far as he was concerned, they would keep me on for longer than 3 months, which they have now said isn’t true as there isn’t enough funding for the new role. So it’s back to square one. Spending my days doing a job I hate, and evenings and weekends back looking for a permanent job earning £18k in London. I applied for 200+ between October – January, and only ever got a reply from one, which was a no. I’m hoping this 3 months experience I will now have will help, but in reality, I’m not so sure it will. I’m sick of it all. I’m not passionate about any career in particular, I never have been. When I was 18 I had an unconditional offer for a university place,achieved 2 A’s and a B at A Levels, and was a fully pledged geek. Instead of taking the opportunity to go to university to study psychology, what did I do? Give it all up and worked 20 hours a week at Sainsbury’s. Clearly I don’t have my head screwed on correctly, because who in their right mind would make that choice? It’s a no-brainer isn’t it? The truth is, I only even applied for university to keep other people happy, because that’s what I was supposed to be doing. I never really wanted to. I should have stuck to my guns this time, and never took an office job. The only job I’m passionate about doing, is working with young children, or animals, neither of which pays much money, and neither of which will get me earning enough to get Berkay to the UK, not in the foreseeable future anyway. 

People have commented before about doing a TEFL course and being able to teach English in Turkey, possibly allowing me to get a work permit, it’s not as easy as that though, and from people who already have these jobs, most places require CELTA qualifications, which are much much more expensive, and I’m not even remotely confident enough in myself to teach at a foreign school. I do intend to do a TEFL course soon though.

I’ve had conversations with my family this week about the immigration rules requiring me to be earning £18,600. All they kept saying before I moved back here was ‘you’ll walk straight into a job earning that money’, 6 months and 3 jobs later, here I am, unsurprisingly not earning that.Through these conversations, what I have gathered is that they see nothing wrong with these rules at all. It frustrates me.  I’m not saying the world and it’s mother should have free rights to jump on a plane to the UK and enter freely, not at all. I’m just saying that it should be assessed in a fairer way, back to the old rules of the spouse having to show an extra £100 a week after outgoings to show they can afford another person living with them. Someone earning £18,600 could have outgoings of £18,600 a year, or be seriously in debt, whilst someone earning £16,000 may have outgoings of £12,000 a year. Who is in the better position then? Who has the right to decide which people deserve to live with their partners and children, based on income alone? Hell, reports have shown 48% of the UK’s population don’t earn £18,600, are you really telling me those 48% don’t have the right to live with who they want?

Away from the job and visa side of things, I have a new worry constantly on my mind. Boncuk. She’s staying with Berkay in the hotel at the moment, as it’s closed for winter and she is able to roam freely around the grounds. In summer, the hotel owner wants her gone as she’ll disturb guests by barking when seeing the lights, people and hearing the noise, which I can’t really argue with because I know she would do exactly that. This leaves us not knowing where she can go. Berkay has always taken care of her and took her with him to the hotel when he had nothing, he fed her before himself, sharing the only fish he’d caught with her so she’d eat well. We love her to pieces, and the thought of having to give her to someone else breaks my heart. Berkay was considering putting her in the kennels at the local vet, until they said they wanted 600tl a month for the privilege. 600tl a month out of his wages would leave him just 150tl a month to live on. Our own rent was only 350tl! I have gone to bed in tears twice this week after looking at the photos of the three of us, me, Berkay and Boncuk, and wishing with all my heart I could go back to those days. Giving Boncuk to a stranger, if we could even find someone to have her, would mean I never saw her again.  I just can’t deal with that.  We do have a kind of last resort, our friends said she can stay in their garden, but they only rent their apartment, and I’m worried Boncuk will get settled and used to them and then the landlord kick her out. I wish she could come here, I wish I could just fly out and get her and bring her back, but realistically that’s not possible either. £750 to fly or drive her back, and then still the issue of finding her a home here. My parents won’t let her stay here, not a chance in hell, I’ve asked and begged several times. She’s an outside dog, hates being indoors and isn’t even toilet trained, so I’d need to be able to find, afford and rent a ground floor flat or house with a garden to keep her in. What are the chances of that? I need to put her first, but I’ve always been adamant we’ll do everything we can to keep her with us. She’s our dog, we found her, took her in and she trusts us. Never in a million years would I dump her on the street, and finding a new home would be heartbreaking for both her, and us. What do to?

Honestly, life at the moment is just one big mess. I don’t even have anything positive to say. I don’t know what to do, say, feel.

It’s 2.5 weeks until Berkay is here, but that too, is bittersweet. When I’ve published this post I’m off to book his flight back to Turkey for 19th April. He’s not even here yet and I’m already thinking about and dreading him going back.

For now, I’m taking it one day at a time. Making the most of this Sunday evening before the hell of M****y hits.
Have a good week everybody.