Leading up to Sundays when it's my turn to work a weekend shift, I check the roster to see who else is on and I get nervous if I see a colleague isn't working as well.
Why? It's because I'm scared to be working alone. I've been left shaken by encounters with homeless people from emergency housing in the city that I've found in the carpark or who have looked in the windows or climbed on to our office roof.
When I drive home late at night and need fuel, I don't stop at my usual service station. It's not because I want to get home. It's because I'm afraid to get out of my car with my wallet and have someone come up to me and ask for money.
In September this year, a chirpy Wellington taxi driver struck up a conversation after he picked me up to take me to the airport.
"Where ya heading?" he asked.
"Rotorua," I proudly replied.
"Oh jeepers, just a stopover or do you actually live there? I see on the telly it's been destroyed by all the homeless."
I'm offended.
He's just slammed what is now my hometown. What he's saying isn't true. Or is it?
I no longer feel safe in Rotorua - and that breaks my heart.
I love this city and after 26 years of calling myself a local, I can't leave.
You can't describe the beauty of the lakes, the freshness of the forest, or the thrill when hurtling down a mountain-bike track.
I beam with pride whenever I see local Māori perform, I love I can spend a day of endless fun with my kids at the lakefront or Motion Entertainment. Then there's the world-class Skyline Rotorua or the awesome cafes and restaurants to choose from.
There's always been a buzz about this city that no other place has.
But this city is hurting. It's been used, abused and taken for granted as the emergency motel and housing industry has gathered pace. In my opinion, it's also resulted in a lot of greed.
We have hosted some of the finest people from all over the world. Now we are being asked to host the most vulnerable.
But we have to be careful not to lump together everyone who is in emergency housing.
I have knocked on the unit doors of some of these motels to talk to people and have physically gasped at the conditions.
It isn't unusual to see cramped one-bedroom units, curtains drawn, condensation dripping off the windows and, behind a tired and over-it mother, about four kids under the age of 8.
These are decent people who don't choose to be there. But they are desperate. And they deserve a home.
But on the flip side are the ones giving the system and Rotorua a bad name.
I met one young couple from another part of the North Island who came to Rotorua because they heard about the motels and thought it was a good chance to have some "time out" from their kids and other family members they had previously lived with.
Then there are the ones running amok thinking their holiday in a motel is a good excuse to go on crime waves and booze and drug benders, abusing people, leaving rubbish lying around and generally being anti-social. Anyone reading our recent coverage of the consent hearings will know exactly what I'm talking about.
How different would locals feel if everyone in emergency housing had behaved and been grateful to have a taxpayer-funded roof over their heads?
We can add to the mix the commonly held belief that many of these people aren't from Rotorua.
The Government's own study into where people in emergency housing came from found that 343 people were, at the time of the study, out-of-towners.
But is this figure just the tip of the iceberg?
Those touting the study as proof the homeless were mainly locals counted the number of people who were from other territorial local authorities that included towns such as Kawerau, Tokoroa, Taupō and Whakatāne as being from the region.
Here's a geography lesson: The region is not Rotorua. Out-of-town means out-of-this-town and outside the Rotorua district. If you're from Tauranga and you're living in Rotorua emergency housing, you're from out-of-town.
I've been writing news stories for the Rotorua Daily Post about Rotorua's state of affairs for almost three years and I've done it with a heavy heart. I've watched the city's reputation spiral downwards.
I've been criticised for rubbishing our town and spreading "negative news". But I've also had elderly women approach me in supermarkets and thank me for continuing to highlight the fear they are feeling in their homes in Glenholme.
The last thing I want to do is run down a place where we choose to raise our three daughters.
I was asked to go on an Australian television documentary about the demise of Rotorua and the proliferation of homeless. The answer was "no way". I will not tell the world Rotorua should be avoided. I want you to come here and love it as I have.
I used to be a journalist who got a thrill from being on the front page. I couldn't care less about that now and instead, I get a thrill if something we do results in positive change.
But sometimes you have to reveal the negative to get there.
Just this week the chairman of an independent commission, David Hill - tasked with deciding the future of contracted emergency housing in Rotorua - thanked the media, including the Rotorua Daily Post, for its coverage, saying it had been "very useful" in keeping the community informed.
Hill said: "[The media] have a two-edged sword on issues like this and they have been very important in bringing the issue forward but at the same time contribute to the reputational issues. They look both ways and that's the role of the media."
I firmly believe if pressure isn't applied to those in power, how else will they feel obliged to make changes, work harder and listen to locals? How do they even know how we in Rotorua are feeling every day?
We make no excuses for asking repeated questions of city and national leaders.
Today, the Rotorua Daily Post has launched a major in-depth series, Fighting for Rotorua, in which we will explore these issues further, speak to those impacted, dig into the data and ask the community and national leaders how we can improve things.
But there's so much more to be done. Targeted support for Rotorua is needed - not just money but policies that will protect this precious city and quickly restore it to its former glory while providing those wasting away in motels with somewhere they can call home.
We will continue to ask those in power to look harder at Rotorua and ask if what is happening is fair. We will continue asking the questions.
Rotorua will be great again. We will fight for you.