What Moving City, Job, And House Did To My Mental Health

My self-esteem is generally in flux, but it has a tendency to hover around the lower end of the spectrum. I’ve written posts on feeling low before (hi, and hello), I also have a draft titled ‘Apathy’ with nothing in the body because I felt too apathetic to write.

Now, introducing a new contributor to my oft-turbulent mental health: moving from Reading to Bristol.

Moving City

Let me give you a quick backstory — in June 2017 I decided that I wanted to move to Bristol. I’d had a night out, went to a couple of gay bars, and the next afternoon whilst chilling in Castle Park, I told my friend that “by this time next year, I want to be living in Bristol.” I’d been once before and felt an instant connection thanks to the scene, feel, and creativity that it boasts, but last summer secured it for me.

Fast forward ten months through numerous job applications, a possible mild depressive episode, a successful interview, house searches/viewings, commuting options…and as I type, I’m in Bristol! And I don’t miss Reading!

Stress Level: 2/10

Moving Job

Ah, the facilitator to my being able to live here in the first place.

At first, the job search was awful because I just wanted to leave my job and move quickly, but having to apply for jobs after a full day’s hard work with poor motivation and low self-esteem was killer.

Now that the job has been attained, I feel good about it. I wasn’t happy where I was and I’m very determined to prove my worth there (mostly because I took a bit of a pay cut, so it’s motivating me to earn more…).

I was devastated at having to leave my now-former work family (which resulted in ugly crying once I got home), but I’m looking forward to making new friends and having new experiences in the workplace.

Stress Level: 5/10

Moving House

My stress levels have been fairly tame until now; this one’s the kicker, folks!

Generally, life doesn’t give a toss about what you want to happen and in what order, it just happens and you deal with it. That’s mostly okay with me – I like the unexpected – but not when it makes me feel like I’m a piece of shit (though really, that’s my brain’s fault more than the events themselves).

The main source of my worries is finding my own place to rent. I’m staying with a friend right now (which is incredibly lucky as I lived just under 80 miles from my new workplace) and I’m going to house viewings pretty regularly, but this is becoming harder on me, mentally, than finding a job.

When someone rejects you for a job, it’s likely due to your experience, perceived competence in the role, and personality. When someone rejects you for a room, it feels more personal; I’m not offering my services and my abilities to sustain a business, I’m primarily offering myself.

My brain is telling me right now that with each rejection I get, I’m not good enough. And having that whispered to me with each and every rejection is getting to me. Yes, the odds are against me since there tend to be several people interested in the property, but that’s hard to bear in mind 24/7 (and a hard to swallow truth when you’re desperate to move).

It’s not only getting rejected, it’s waiting to hear back. Last month, I was expecting a text from a potential housemate on a certain day and I kept looking at my phone, told a friend not to text me at all because I panicked each time I heard a buzz, and I had a nightmare about it that woke me up in the early hours.

I’m looking for rooms to rent, not being bullied every day, and I feel like this isn’t a normal reaction…but it’s my reaction, and that’s valid enough.

I think the solution here is practicing some CBT techniques, meditating, and possibly even revisiting the doctor because I can’t function like this all the time if I’m also trying to adjust to a new life. My priority right now – and at all times – should be my well-being, especially if I’m to adapt well within this new life.

Stress Level: 9/10

—

I just have to keep going.

I’m probably going to be rejected at least once again before I start my job on Monday, but that’s okay — I’m always one step closer to a place I can call home, and my coping techniques will improve with experience, I’m sure.

Bonus: this experience has broken through the 6-month-long writer’s block!