Therapy should be a part of the visa process

I don't think I've ever put so much faith into something, so much money, time, hope, and thought into getting to Portugal.

When I was about 7 or so, while I still lived in the mountains of California, my parents bought me a globe for Christmas. I was a cheesy, awkward child, so when I unwrapped it, I sang "I got the whole world in my hands". Immediately started running my fingers over the mountains, oceans, and islands of the world, I don't even recall the rest of the day or the other presents.

I'd sit in my room for hours just spinning it, closing my eyes, and picking a spot. I'd read the place aloud, go find a book at the library or something about it, and learn as much as I could. I became interested, or rather, obsessed with Europe. It was so old compared to anything I'd ever seen, and a lot of the books I read had some young, vibrant person going on their 'tour' of Europe, taking a gap year, some kind of travel.

I didn't get to travel too much when I was young, so now as a middle aged (gasp!) adult, I find myself aching to see what I can before it's too late for me to do it.

I've wanted to live abroad since those moments with my little globe, wanted to see those places that were a multitude of colors on this little spinning ball. I was probably the only 13 year old in North Texas that knew about Croatia, certainly the only one in my school that could on point out the majority of European countries on a map on the floor of my classroom.

This goal to get to Portugal isn't just about being in great weather, a safer place, public healthcare, or a slower life - it's about the exploration that I've been dying to do since I was a kid.

That's probably why I'm so anxious about it all. Dumping in months of rent up front and all our savings into a Portuguese bank account. Hoping that our small business will be seen as viable and our visas approved. It's absolutely terrifying, but I have to try. If I don't succeed I'll just try again.

This entire process, on some website somewhere, really should tout the services of a good therapist. I don't know if it's imposter syndrome or just total fear of rejection, but I feel like I can feel the grey hairs growing in by the moment. Like middle-aged growing pains. I'm sure it'll be worse when we submit the paperwork, at this point I'm just trying to keep sane.

Right now, because I live in a society where it's impossible to find mental health services, I just have to find my own ways to be calm. Breathe deeply, watch a few go-to movies, get into my comfy clothes, and wait.

I will feel so accomplished when we get past this step. Maybe I need to reframe it as the fact that I just care so deeply about this working, that's why I'm worried.

I'll get there. It'll happen. At some point this feeling will become just part of the story, but right now it's exhausting, terrifying and very in-my-face real.