Here are the times I’ve cried this week:
- I started sobbing when a lady gave birth on “A Baby Story”
- I cried at work after reading a moving news story
- I almost cried at work when one of the copyeditors wanted to make sure I still had the same title (i.e., haven’t been promoted) and
- I cried in my car after my dentist visit today. Cried. Sobbed. Calmed down. Cried some more. Then the dentist called and was really nice, so I cried on the phone.
Now, you may think I’m crazy or I’m PMSing. I also think I’m crazy, but know I’m not PMSing. I seriously think I am just crazy stressed (God, I hope that’s my excuse.)
My life is about to change in a big way. I’m leaving this life I’ve started and beginning a new adventure overseas. Sure, been there, done that. But even though it’s less scary because I have an idea of what I’m getting into, it’s still pretty intimidating. Last time, I had Keira. I knew we were in it together and that if it didn’t work out, we would be there for each other.
The time before I had……absolutely nothing. In fact, I was 100% more terrified than I am now. I knew nothing of what Spain would be like. I must have thought it was some sort of primitive country because I bought an entire semester’s worth of toiletries and stuffed them into one of my already overpacked suitcases. As if Spain wouldn’t have tampons or something. Haha. Anyway, I was terrified that I wouldn’t get along with the people in my program, that my host family would be mean to me, and that I would basically be miserable for the entire four months I was there…if I even survived the malnourishment I would have to endure because of my neglectful host family. But that wasn’t the case at all! I made lifelong friends, had a blast, and absolutely loved my host family.
What if my expectations are too high now? What if I can’t have a third amazing time in Spain…my good times in Spain have already been used up?!
I find that I’m having the same sorts of fears I had before Spain the last time. I look at the kids that are in my program on Facebook and for some reason automatically assume that they are all best friends and I am the outsider. I know, logically, this is not the case but I can’t help myself from feeling that way. I guess I know, that even if I don’t have a lot in common with them (they all seem to be about two years younger than I am) that I will make friends. It is so easy to make friends out there, and I do still have some friends left over in Madrid to lean on and reconnect with.
I do get pretty excited sometimes thinking about going back, about finding an apartment, and being a student again! But my moments of excitement are brief, because to get to the good times, I must first endure a new kind of torture.
Dun dun dun.
The dreaded student visa.
Now, I remember doing this before and compiling stacks and stacks of papers proving everything about my existence so that Spain would let me study. It’s extra fun that I get to do this again. AND my fear is elevated because there are some legit reasons that I could get rejected:
- They may notice, by closely monitoring my passport stamps, that I overstayed my welcome two years ago. Whoops.
- They may also notice that I got a criminal record report only for Massachusetts because, honestly, who can get one for EVERY place they’ve lived for more than six months in the past 5 years? Not those of us who chose to be illegal immigrants for a year/are lazy and don’t want to call up Colorado for a report!
So you see why this is stressing. Another fun thing that happened this week is that I was informed that my doctor’s note (also for the student visa) is dated too far back so I have to go to the doctor AGAIN and have them say I am healthy AGAIN. And I have to do that in the next week. I’m still waiting on some papers from my school in Spain, and some stuff from my mom (big shout out to Mom for helping me out with so much. Love ya, Mom). But I emailed the Spanish consulate anyway to begin scheduling my appointment, and I’m just hoping I can pull the rest of this together in time. Otherwise, I may miss my flight because to get a visa, the Spanish consulate holds your passport hostage for up to eight weeks (which, at this point, puts me right at my departure date.)
So, in my next and also last month of working, I’ll probably be absent more days than I’m actually working because I will be at the doctor/dentist/Spanish consulate/crying in my car/etc.
Alright. I will quit whining now because this is a great opportunity, and I’ll be excited once all my stuff is turned in. I’m actually starting to look forward to telling work that I’m leaving, which is a big step forward, I think. It feels like reality now, and all I have to do is put my head down and focus. I’m in the home stretch!
Wish me luck.