Monday, 15 March 2010

Dans le dumps

The last few days have been a stark realisation of how difficult life can get when someone doesn't get what they want.

Leaving when I did meant forfeiting $1000 and an air fare to New Zealand, which I now understand wasn't heading my way "when I left" as he'd said all along, but more when the Polo Player agreed that I could go. ie., Not now. The money's nothing though, it would have been nice, but it's not what I worked hard for.

You little comment box fiends are all completely right. My Boyfriend's right, my sister's right, Matty and Annie are right; I'm entitled to leave whenever I want. Nothing was simpler than the fact that for some reason, whatever it was, I just didn't want to continue the job. This is my trip, the one I've saved and worked my arse off in the most boring secretarial positions imaginable in order to do. Perhaps I'd underestimated how much the Polo Player valued me. Whatever it is, I can't stand letting people down. As he called me from the truck on the way to Sydney upon hearing I'd been crying, said "Believe me. No one's more upset than I am that you're leaving", I knew that's exactly what I'd done.

But in a way, that's just it. It's always about him. Even when guilt trips came in from his mum, who I got on with incredibly well, the focus was on how important this was for him. If there's any possible way I could just do these two weeks, it would mean so much to him. It's so important for him. To which I replied that I fully understood how important it was, but that my round the world trip was important for me. And no one was looking out for me, except for, well, me.

As the time that I left them all got nearer, I became more detached. No longer on the receiving end of instructions, I could sit back and observe how they were issued. And realise how for the last two months, I've been completely, unknowingly absorbed into a little Polo shaped bubble. Even now, sitting in the centre of Sydney writing this; clean, not a horse or farm in sight, miles from the Polo Player, his family and the horses, I still don't feel fully away from it all yet.

The last few days have been a bit of a shock to the old system.

6 comments:

theperpetualspiral said...

Well, well done for deciding that not only your time was done but also sticking to it no matter what PP or his mum tried to do to make you stay.

So where is next on the trip?

Brennig said...

Glad that you're moving on. That's the whole point of the trip, isn't it?

The Unbearable Banishment said...

It's all posturing and puffery for us here in the peanut gallery and your family/friends back home. It's fun being the Greek chorus. But living through these events must have been hellish. Better days ahead, Jo. Onward through the fog.

Ellie said...

It will be more of a memory soon. I've been curious (and apologies if I missed it), but how the heck did you hook up with this job anyway? (Gumtree springs to mind ... don't tell me ...)

nottwittter said...

Nothing to feel down about. A couple of city cocktails will soon wash the bad taste away.

Please send me the "two-stablegirls-in-the-hay-after-a-long-sweaty-day" post you've been working on to dirtyoldbastards@uk.com.
No point wasting it, is there?

Please Don't Eat With Your Mouth Open said...

perp - Back to NZ!

Brennig - Yeah, as I told them, I'm on a holiday visa, not a working visa...

unbearable - It has been fairly hellish in my little backpacker world lately. I'm still a bit shaken by it all but slowly the mood is improving.

ellie - I didn't refer to it directly, but actually my sister worked for the Polo Player a few years ago when she was in Australia, so she passed the contact on.

not twitter - it's on its way. ;)

 

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