Finding the bright side of Purgatory
Purgatory — “the condition, process, or place of purification or temporary punishment.” Also defined as a space to “undergo correction, balance life’s accounts, satisfy old debts, cleanse accumulated defilements, and heal troubled memories”. Purgatory the best term to characterize my condition over the spring season. I may not have done much to dress up for Halloween or Dia de los Muertos but I sure felt like a walking dead.
This little spot on the globe has so much to offer and I’ve been scheming for years to make this move and yet I struggle to appreciate the moment. I run through the motions but am still broken on the inside, proactive by day and drowning in self doubt by night. The passing of my previous life is still crystal clear and my future is totally insecure.
Fortunately, the position for my dream job opens up and I steer all my positive energy toward the potential opportunity. The idea of the role is to help set up and run the Project Management Office of the Reserve Bank of New Zealand. It is everything I want to learn about in just the right context, with a group of people that are capable, experienced, and willing to bring me into the fold. I’ve been waiting for years to work in an environment where I have access to such a gold mine of growth potential. But its too early to get hopeful yet. The waiting game has just begun. Manage anticipation. Manage expectations. Act normal and stay active.
I go to my first Rugby game and its a nail biter between the two most Hollywood of rugby teams — the New Zealand All Blacks and the South African Springbocks. The Springbocks broke years of an All Blacks winning streak by just two points — 36–34! I was stunned to learn though that despite the Haka and the brutality of the sport, the fan club is most tame that I have ever experienced. There were no classic chants or strong rivalries between fan groups. For a soccer or football fan it would have been surreal to see the mass herd of people exit the stadium all feeling casually satisfied with the spectacle. I classify it as uniquely Kiwi.
Spring finally sneaks a few peaks in late September. Its warm enough to make it out to Full Moon Drumming on the beach — a monthly event for a bunch of eclectic folk to gather around a bonfire and join a drum circle, practice fire spinning, or just enjoy some hot tea with good company and the sound of the ocean.
City life also means that weird things like morning raves are regular occurrences and because Wellington is so small, its literally on my way to work. House music and a fruit breakfast in a basement bar between 6:30 and 8 followed by the typical 8:30 start to the workday — bright eyed and energized.
Happy hour dates with girlfriends and a weekend ferry trip to walk about Somes Island (the Ellis Island of New Zealand’s animal imports in the mid 1900’s) all color my experience while I anxiously wait for some stability to shape up around me. On the job front, a week passes in between each dose of news. One week for a call back. Another 2 weeks after the interview. Another week and a half to go through reference checks.
Its difficult to prepare for a future that you can’t count on. My temp contract with the current employer is up at the end of the month. Nothing feels smooth. My references take forever to get through. If this job doesn’t pan out then … If I end up taking some whatever job then would it all feel like a waste? It takes constant effort to not get stuck in that toilet bowl of worry. Bite the bullet — pay for the fingerprints and background check, book the medical exam and chest x-ray — check. It would be just over $1,100 NZD ($750 USD) by the time everything was submitted. And all for a job that I hadn’t actually been offered yet. My subtle art of not giving a fuck only stretches to cover the daytime challenges.
Add some residual reminders about my ex-partner’s recent walk-out at night and my composure dissipates. How is he doing over there? Great. He’s fantastic, no regrets, as happy as can be. I, on the other hand, manage to thrash around a deluge of negative anxiety from wall to wall in my head. It all moves so fast and so slow at the same time. I am exhausted but that imaginary clock in my head won’t stop ticking at me as I juggle my way toward the next checkpoint.
36 hours of eternity later and that next checkpoint came in the form of a weekend camping trip to Mt. Holdsworth in the Tararuas with mates from the acro community. It’s high time to check out. GTFO. Run to the hills. It would be my first time outside of Wellington’s 3 mile radius since I arrived almost 5 months ago!
Tararua Forest park is the largest conservation park on the North Island and the most notable park for Wellingtonian’s to escape to for a weekend in the woods. It is scattered with tramping trails, back-country huts, a gorge and, as usual, clouds. Saturday morning kicks off with what turns out to be a 5 hour tramp up to Powell Hut. That stairway to heaven felt like hell on my body but with the help of some care package trail mix and good company, we made it to the top. The evening was filled with lighthearted music, sharing, laughter and long chats. It was a much needed change of scenery.
Dive back into Wellington's city limits and busy patience. Dabble in a housewarming party, a healthy dose of pole practice, and finally on Tuesday afternoon, the offer call comes through! One major sigh of relief and a hard fought smile. On Wednesday, there is paper to sign. My flatmate and I just barely got tickets to the international spectacular and 30th annual production of World of Wearable Arts (WOW) and I could not imagine a better way to celebrate.
WOW is much more than a costume production. There is dance, a full range of circus acts and multiple runways. It is an absolute feast for the eyes. I picked up on a valuable tip to bring a pair of binoculars and was glued into them throughout the show inspecting the multitude of exquisite details on each and every costume. Its a pesky beehive of tourism to many locals but I will happily jump at the chance to go again.There were hundreds of pieces but here are 3 of 36 award winners.
Gillian Saunders, New Zealand
Tina Hutchison-Thomas, New Zealand
Annabelle Widmann, Spain
The next morning I hand in the signed contract and complete the visa application. The average processing time for the work visa is 47 days and my official start state is set for one month away. Luckily the results of my US background check came back just in time. Link in the medical results and the employment offer. List all past employment experience? Restaurant gigs, short term contacts —how much detail do we need to dig up? Does that other thing even count as a job? For days after I press submit, I spend a glorious amount of time second guessing myself and formulating worst case scenarios in my head. Purgatory strikes back.
In addition, and separate from Immigration’s background check, the Bank does a CV check on your entire CV. Run my credit report. Police reports from both countries. Provide contact details for all my past employers and proof of all certificates? Yes, even that little 3 month course from 7 years ago while I was living in Argentina. Fack. My record keeping skills don’t make that cut. HR can rescind the offer if the CV check is incomplete. Breathing forgets to be an involuntary constant as more doubt takes over.
Contract squabbles sweep me further off balance. Who gets the money for my head? Mixed messages fly from multiple directions. Who will get stuck with the bill and will they threaten the contract over it? Is there a tipping point where everyone just simmers out over the heap of complications surrounding my hire? Insecurity rages. Get back to work. Hurry up and wait. Why is it so easy for the negativity to blind the goodness?
I push myself outside for some long walks to the beach on the weekends but I have to go alone because I have no spirit left to offer to the world nor am I a fun person to be around anymore. The absence of my furry hiking buddy exaggerates the loneliness. Even with a job offer in hand, I can only subsist with a zombie-like patience, locked up in a state of Purgatory, for at least another month while I wait for the visa to get approved.