It's been 20 months since we moved to Spain; we have survived some rough times, some damn right frustrating and challenging times but after everything, we are still here. When I look back a year ago, Darrell having left Spain, to care for his Mother, who had cancer, living in Australia, it was a particularly arduous time; the hardest period since we arrived in Spain. I wasn't in employment, trying to look for work at the end of the summer season on the Costa Blanca, a near impossibility. I felt as low as I possibly could, spending most of my time, shut away in my house. I couldn't afford to go out or even buy shopping, so sitting in my home was the only activity that didn't involve spending; even 2€ for a pint of Mahou was too much, as I tried to survive on 10€ a week, for myself and two cats. Writing then, as now was my only escape. I was blogging everyday, writing my monthly column in the GA Advertiser, composing articles for other newspapers, both here and abroad and trying to finish a book that I had started ten years ago, as well as applying for jobs. Despite not working, I was always busy and never inactive, at least mentally!
Christmas came and went; I am not exaggerating when I say, it was the worst festive season of my life. Jamie, who was living with me at the time, had gone AWOL; he was drinking heavily and partying too hard; his health was suffering and his job was in jeopardy. As much as I cared about this guy, I could not live with him any longer. By the end of Christmas 2016, just into the new year, things had reached breaking point and I asked Jamie to leave, whilst his new partner was staying with us in Spain. A flight was arranged and Jamie left, returning to the UK!
Jamie was the only one of us working at the time and paying his fare share of the rent; without his income I had nothing to live on. Darrell was still living in Australia, looking after his mother, for another two months; Jamie's departure was going to cause me problems and for the next few months, I lived on nothing. I had no money to eat let alone socialise; life had reached its lowest point. People told me I was stupid for kicking Jamie out, questioning my judgement, but when you are confronted by someone on self destruct, dragging you down also, you have no option, despite the consequences. I have no regrets, as I am sure Jamie doesn't, hopefully continuing to move forwards, as he embarks on his new journey.
Darrell's return in March was brief; within a few weeks he had flown to the UK, having to forge a living until him and I started work in Spain. He also had paperwork to prepare, in order to remain legally with me in Gran Alacant; part of the course, when you marry a non EU citizen. Survival was the most important goal for both of us; I was waiting to begin work in a new bar for the summer season and Darrell had just started a new job, driving between Southampton and London each day. For the moment we were Okay and just about managing to keep our heads above water; separated by circumstances, necessary to get through the demanding times ahead; not ideal, but something we had to endure. It made us both stronger, rebuilt our faith and gave us hope after a series of unfortunate events.
Today both our circumstances have changed dramatically! I started work in July of this year. This allowed Darrell to obtain Spanish Residencia and access to the Spanish Health Care system. Just last week Darrell also started work at Alicante airport; so for the first time in many years we are both feeling positive and happy. In November we will be moving to a larger villa in Puerto Marino, nearer to work and from that point, we can begin to live a more productive life. The outlook is rosy for now, but this is Spain and we have no idea what it will throw our way, however we are more than happy to be back on track, earning living and for the first time saving money for the future. It has taken a long time to get to here, all the way back to my relapse in 2015; today we can both stick two fingers up to the detractors, who said our move to Spain was doomed to failure. We have proved them wrong and expect to be living here for many years to come. In truth we moved to Spain blind, emotionally exhausted and believing it to be the place of dreams, a notion that isn't entirely true. This is the hardest place on earth to survive, let alone get ahead; in my humble opinion, I don't think Darrell and I have done too bad. A week is a long time in Spain, so when I scribble my two year anniversary in January, I have no idea where we will stand, financially and otherwise; only time will tell if this place remains the Spanish home, we always desired; for now we carry on, carrying on!
