acceptance (letter)
Four short months ago, I received my offer of acceptance from the IMBRSea Masters program. As many of my friends and family members know, I had been planning on applying to this program for the last year and a half and had based many of my life decisions around the possibility that I would be accepted (and be moving to Europe for two years). These decisions varied from minuscule (should I really buy another mug if I’m just going to pack it away in my parent's basement soon?) to very large (deciding to move back in with my dad for a year to save money).
Waiting to hear back from the program after I’d applied was excruciating. The date I was supposed to receive the news that would change the course of my life passed by... the program was late notifying applicants. A new date appeared on the website, and I counted down the days, often waking up and checking my emails in the early hours of the morning (I figured with the time difference between Canada and Europe, I was unlikely to receive news during the day).
I was confident that I would get into the program, and I had told everyone in my life that I was applying. But I still worried that I might open my email at 3 a.m. and see a rejection letter, that I would have to tell everyone I wasn’t good enough, that all my plans and sacrifices from the past year and a half wouldn’t be worth it (there were so many nice mugs I could have bought).
When the email finally came, it wasn’t a rejection letter. Not only had I been accepted, but I also received a full-ride scholarship to travel and study for two years. I opened up my email at 7 a.m. and read the acceptance, feeling empty inside. I couldn’t muster up even an ounce of excitement; all I felt was sadness and a sense of how unfair the world could be.
Since applying to the program, I had imagined this moment over and over in my head—a huge smile would appear on my face, I’d jump out of bed, call my boyfriend, and text all my friends the good news. I imagined who I would tell first and how I would say it: “I got in! I got the scholarship!” I’d text my friends in all caps. I’d send off thank-you emails to my supervisors who wrote me references and helped edit my application. I’d tell my mom and dad to book a trip to Europe to come visit me next year.
Eleven days before I woke up and found the acceptance letter in my inbox, I received a call from my grandma—my mom had unexpectedly passed away the night before. I was deep in grief, barely sleeping, fluctuating between being on the brink of breaking down in tears and forcing myself to feel nothing. I was distracting myself by completing a 1000-piece puzzle every one and half days, and I was completely blacking out entire chunks of my day. I repeated the same thing to someone only for them to remind me I had already told them that…twice. I misplaced my things. Hours went by, and I would realize at 3 p.m. that I hadn’t eaten breakfast, or lunch, or anything else… or had I?
I read the acceptance letter. I laid there. I got up and went into the living room and said, “Well, I got in, and I got the scholarship” (no exclamation mark) to my dad. He gave me a hug and reminded me that this was great. Twelve days previously, I couldn’t imagine that I wouldn’t accept the offer if I had been given it, but now I questioned if this was the right choice for me.
If I accepted, I would be moving away from the town I grew up in, leaving my entire support system back home while I embarked on a solo trip to a continent I had never visited and where I had no friends or family. Aside from that, I would have to add finding housing, packing up all my belongings, applying for visas, and booking flights to the growing list of things my brother and I had to deal with in the coming months regarding my mom’s estate—a list of tasks and paperwork and bills that I was already extremely overwhelmed by.
Long story short—everyone in my life told me I needed to accept the offer. Everything sucked right now, and it would suck for a long time, but September was five months away, and I would regret passing up this opportunity for the rest of my life. If you’re going to be sad, you might as well be sad on a beautiful beach in Europe. This may not be true for everyone who finds themselves in a situation like this, but I knew my friends, family, and mentors were telling me what I needed to hear. I accepted the offer.
I spent many weeks telling people in my life about my decision, many of whom had no idea about what else I was going through. Everyone had the same thing to say, “Wow! What a unique opportunity, you must be so excited!” I faked the excitement— “Of course I’m excited!” (with a big fat exclamation mark). I said all the things I imagined I would say when I first thought about getting into the program. At this point, I knew I was making the right decision, but I couldn’t help feeling a little cheated. I wanted to feel excited, but I just didn’t.
Everything was stressful and overwhelming, and I felt like I was absolutely drowning in responsibilities and deadlines. But looking back, I must admit, things were working out eerily well for me. I found a nice place to live, and had it finalized in less than three days; I only had to reach out to one potential landlord, and the apartment looked perfect for me. The documents I was worried wouldn’t show up in time arrived early. My visa got approved. I got the raise I’ve been wanting for the last year. I won 5 bucks playing bingo.
And now, exactly one month before I’ll be flying to Portugal, I’m genuinely excited about the adventure I’m about to embark on. Change is scary, but I’m ready for something new.
When I sat down to write this piece, I started with the title “The Adventure Begins,” thinking that I would brainstorm something to post when I left Canada on September 1st. Something happy and light and not very personal. And then this is what tumbled out as I typed. But it felt good to write. This journey didn’t begin how I imagined. But I’d like to think that my mom’s smiling down on me now, helping to guide good things into my path—whether it’s an acceptance letter I’d been hoping for or that winning bingo card.