Here We Go Again…

Georgie Parker –Anthony Hamilton
I didn’t get either of the three jobs I interviewed for last month. I am down to one month of living money; today is Sunhead’s 9th birthday, my rent is due today, the man is M.I.A. and I am just feeling stressed at the moment.

This is the month. Today is officially one year off of my VISA here in England and I am no closer to what I came here for than when I began. At least the last six months were for the most part not as tough as the first six months, but right now I am up shit creek without a paddle.

I am kind of soul tired. I tired of worrying, I’m tired of being alone, I’m tired, tired, tired. Tired of fucking commenting on my tiredness too, damnit.

There is some point I am missing. Right now there’s this little voice telling me I should vanish. Just get on a plane, tell no one where I am going, just vanish somewhere and go write my guts out in a jungle somewhere.

My heart is so heavy this morning. It’s all I can do to stop from crying. Incidentally, today is Auntie Olga’s funeral.

I just want to breakthrough, and don’t understand why the struggle must be so hard, so difficult to achieve.

When I go on these interviews, the feedback is always that I am technically competent and they like me, but when it boils down, there’s always some bullshit reason.

A prominent Barbadian man, who is socially connected to my family, and in actuality connected through marriage, was kind enough to help me some months back, and when I talked to him about the trouble I’ve been having getting a job, his main question was, “Do you think your hair is hampering you in some way?”

I was gobsmacked! This is England! Isn’t it supposed to be more progressive than that? I mean, what does my hair really have to do with my ability to deliver work? A few weeks later I got the Vodafone job, and well things improved dramatically.

Now, I am running out of money and starting to get desperate again and last week I stumbled across an email from that prominent Barbadian man’s daughter, who incidentally works for a big recruitment firm, and made contact with her. I was telling her about what was going on, and she said the EXACT same thing as her father. She asked me if I thought my hair was influencing people’s decision to hire me.

Again, I was gobsmacked.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been talking with a couple of older gentlemen who’ve befriended me and have been advising me regarding certain things. One of them suggests that these difficulties really stem from me being from the Caribbean, and black. He says this place is quite racist (and I know this, I remember the infamous “30 year study” of racism in this country) and you know, I’m kind of believing it.

How is it that other candidates are ‘just edging me out’, and how is it that they could love my CV, my experience and technical skills be so relevant and vital to the roles I am applying for, and how could I have such a big company as the last job I worked on my CV, and people not want to give me work?

How is it that I cannnot get a chance, an opportunity. Why does it come down to me having unconventional hair? Being visually unconventional? A little too much coffee in the milk?

WTF?

I am heartbroken in a way… I feel really confused, and right now I am grappling with self-doubt.

Plus my asshole landlord is going to be here shortly to suck his monthly bloodlet…

I just want to cry and cry and cry…. and the tears well up, but don’t spill. I’ve been a listless state almost all week, with one bright moment… actually, that’s another post, but I’m not ready to talk about the man yet. Mostly because I don’t know if he IS ‘the man’ yet, and well, I jess not ready to talk about him yet.

Fuck….

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thegoddessroom

The Vault

sungoddess

mermaid, dayo's mama, water priestess, writer, web developer, omo yemoja, dos aguas, obsessive reader, sci-fi fan, trini-bajan, combermerian, second life, music, music, music!