Alright, friends, Let me share the epic saga of my monthly salary as a nurse in England—where every penny counts, and the struggle is real. Let me take you on a wild ride through the treacherous world of budgeting my nurse salary while balancing family life here in England and sending money back to the Philippines. Spoiler alert: it’s like walking a tightrope made of dental floss while juggling flaming torches. 🤹♂️🔥
Ah, the joys of payday! You know that sweet, fleeting moment when your bank account is full, your hopes are high, and you almost feel rich—until reality slaps you in the face, as it does every month. Being a nurse here in England, the art of making your salary disappear is a talent I’ve truly mastered. It’s like I’m David Copperfield but without the Vegas residency or the private jet. Honestly, my monthly salary is like a magical disappearing act—comes in on payday, and poof it’s gone faster than you can say “NHS!” 😂
Here’s how it goes: First, I get my paycheck. I gaze at it lovingly, as if it’s going to stay with me forever. Spoiler alert—it won’t. I start the usual routine: Rent? Gone. Bills? Poof! Groceries? Vanished faster than I can say “Tesco meal deal.” And just when I think I’ve got a little something left for me, my phone pings: Remittance time!
So, picture this: I start my shift, dressed like a superhero (scrubs are totally my cape), armed with caffeine and compassion. By the end of the day, my pockets are emptier than a patient’s bedside cabinet after discharge! It’s like my paycheck takes one look at my bills and decides, “Nope! I’m outta here!” I swear it has a personal vendetta against my financial stability.
Now, let’s talk about the infamous monthly budget. It’s supposed to be this mystical document guiding me to financial enlightenment. But, every month, it feels like a game of “Guess Who?” with my expenses. “Is it the Rent? Check. Utilities? Check. Groceries? Check—if I want to feed the family nothing but instant noodles, that is. Oh wait, it’s the unexpected trip to the car garage, where they drained yourn hard-earned money with fixing something-otherwise MR Qashqai is not roadworthy” Honestly, if I could go back in time, I’d slap my younger self for thinking that taking care of a family in England and sending money to the Philippines would be a walk in the park.
And speaking of sending money home, let’s talk about that lovely transfer fee! You know, those sneaky little charges that pop up like unwanted guests at a party. It’s like sending a little piece of my heart back home, only for the money to arrive as a shrunken version of itself, "Sorry, that’s all you get!" I can just imagine my sister on the receiving end, looking at the amount and thinking, "Wow, thanks for this… contribution to our snack fund?" I love them, I do. But sometimes I think, “Should I be sending money or just personally move back and run a sari-sari store?”
And don’t even get me started on trying to have a social life here in England. Every time my friends suggest going out, I have to calculate in my head like I’m trying to crack a NASA code: "Alright, so if I don’t buy lunch for the next week, I can afford one pint at the pub... maybe half if it's craft beer." Dinner out? Forget about it. I'll just have water, thank you, tap will do.
Now, budgeting isn’t just a math game; it’s an emotional rollercoaster. Every month, I play a thrilling game of “Will I Have Enough for a Treat?” The treat could be anything—a fancy coffee or a trip to a steakhouse that I might contemplate offering my life savings for. Honestly, I've been tempted to sell a kidney for a nice, tender and juicy steak. (Don’t worry, I’m still attached to both kidneys. For now.)
But there was that one month—oh boy, what a tale! I decided to allocate a “holiday fund.” Yes, I thought, let’s live dangerously! I treated the family on a week vacation in Italy. The next day, my bank account wept bitterly. So there I was, cringing at the total on my phone while my financial guilt whispered sweet nothings in my ear like, “Remember those instant noodles you swore off?”
In my moment of despair, I turned to my trusty planner, which had all my monthly expenses laid out, reminding me that budgeting is just like nursing: you’ve got to take care of the essentials first before you can splurge on the chocolate sprinkles. I slapped on my best “I can do this” face and devised a plan—Operation Thrifty Nurse was born! I mastered the art of meal prepping like a culinary Picasso, whipping up enough meals to feed a small army (or at least, keep the family fed for the week).
And after much trial and error (and a few questionable kitchen mishaps), I finally found my rhythm. I even started experimenting with recipes that didn’t require a degree in rocket science. Now, every time I send money home, I do it with pride, knowing I’ve sacrificed instant noodle dinners for my family’s future (and my own sweet-tooth obsession).
So here I am, nursing my soul with more caffeine than actual sleep, trying to stretch those pounds like they’re made of elastic. But wait, the plot thickens! Because not only do I have my English bills tapping me on the shoulder like, “Hey, remember me?” I’ve also got my loving friends back in the Philippines sending their SOS messages: "Pre, baka pwede naman…?" Of course, they conveniently forget that Pare’s salary has been hanging on for dear life since the last Direct Debit hit!
You think I’m exaggerating? Oh no, my friend. Last week I actually had to talk myself out of buying a latte. I stared at the price for a solid minute, as if it would change if I waited long enough. I ended up leaving with a bottle of water and some deep emotional scars.
Then there’s the “creative” ways I make things work—like that time I made a week’s worth of meals with just three ingredients: eggs, rice, and hope. Who needs Michelin stars when you’ve got resilience and access to Google recipes, right? If my rice cooker could talk, it would tell you some horror stories.
So, here I am, a nurse, a budgeter, a family supporter, and a self-proclaimed thrifty chef. Life may throw its challenges at me, but I’m learning to juggle them like a pro. After all, laughter is the best medicine—unless it’s a severe case of “I can’t believe I’m out of money again.”
Honestly, it’s a game of survival. I’ve also become the King of discounts, cashback apps, and that glorious yellow sticker section at the supermarket. I’ve even learned to make soup out of what can only be described as "mystery vegetables" because who can afford avocados these days?
But at the end of the day, we laugh, we survive, and we get to send those few extra pesos home, knowing it makes a difference. And maybe, just maybe, I'll treat myself to a nice coffee before the cycle starts all over again. Budgeting? It's a skill...
So here’s to us: the superheroes of budgeting, surviving on noodles and determination, and somehow managing to keep everyone happy—family here, family there, and the bank account that’s constantly teetering on the edge of chaos. Cheers! 🥂
Comments