On Wednesday December 4, 2024, I pulled my Irish visa application. We officially gave up.

 

(A quick recap: this year, my partner and I attempted to move to Ireland. Actually, we began prepping for this in mid 2023. He succeeded, and fairly quickly at that. As an architect, he made the cut for a Critical Skills Employment Permit and once he bagged a job, received the Irish immigration’s green light within a month. He boarded his one-way flight to Dublin on January 6, 2024. I naively thought I would be right behind him and put together my De Facto Partner of a Critical Skills Employment Permit Holder visa application (a 4-inch binder filled with hundreds of papers, documents, and tons of pictures of us kissing to verify our relationship). However, I couldn’t do this immediately upon his departure, as I had to wait for his residential documents as my sponsor, an apartment lease with my name on it, proof of Irish health insurance… AND the other major issue was that I needed to apply for a second passport so that I could continue my international work (MARGE CAMPs) while the Irish government held onto my original passport. That was an agonizing process in and of itself; I finally received an official second passport book in about 6 weeks. I then submitted my visa application at the end of February 2024. The Irish immigration website updates their visa decisions every Tuesday, and the date for the type of visa I was seeking hardly budged this whole entire year. Oh - and legally, I was not permitted to travel to Ireland while they had my application.)

 

The term “giving up” has been swirling all around me this year in various contexts. First, I was constantly griping on what we and I had “given up” to chase this dream. We gave up our home. We gave up our jobs, which for me felt like I was giving up not only my sense of purpose at the peak of my career, but also my communities, social health, and authority. I gave up my professorship at VCU Dance, a long-time goal I’d had since graduating in 2011, along with any possibility of deeper integration into the BFA dance faculty. Soon enough, I gave up living with my partner. I later gave up my dog (we shipped Henry aka Mr. Baby to Dublin in April). At the risk of sounding petty, I gave up SO many clothes - at least 80% of my wardrobe, in an effort to both downsize as well as to help fund Henry's $4K+ travel expenses (and that was just the ONE way, we are dealing with the return journey now...). I gave up my independence as I moved back in with my parents. I even gave up my car. Financially, I gave up well over twenty thousand dollars, splitting rent on an apartment I had never seen and purchasing Irish health insurance I would never use - both of which I had to prove I had acquired back in February as a part of the visa process. Ultimately, I gave up a lot of my sanity and a sense of security. I was running out of things to give.

 

And now, we give up on this dream. We finally made the heartbreaking decision to pull the visa application so that I could legally go visit my partner and my dog for Christmas and New Year’s. And when I say heartbreaking, I mean that quite literally; upon clicking the ‘submit’ button to request that immigration rescind the application, I actually felt my heart fall to pieces. One click - and just like that... I’m giving up our European dream. I’m giving up establishing myself abroad and growing a new clientele. I’m giving up the hope of sprinkling MARGE CAMPs across Europe. I’m giving up my vision of hopping on Ryanair flights every other weekend to connect with old circus friends, see spectacular shows, and potentially reintegrate back into the contemporary circus scene. Furthermore, in opting to pull the visa, I’m essentially asking my partner to give up his dream of living and working in Europe.

 

Sacrifices for a fallen dream behind us, what else am I giving up now? In making this ultimate decision, I’m giving up the endless frustration and dark cloud of fear that has followed me around this whole year. I’m giving up my weekly “Tuesday heartbreak” (refreshing the visa website to no new updates every. single. week. for 10 months.). I’m giving up the constant sensation in my stomach that is both a complicated knot AND a bottomless pit. I’m giving up the chronic anger that has been relentlessly digging its nails into my body all year. I’m giving up the paranoia that grips me while traveling internationally, walking up to an immigration officer or kiosk to swipe this completely valid, US government-issued second passport, wondering if I’ll be pulled into a room for questioning or even be arrested. I'm giving up feeling worthless as a yoga professional - unable to use my line of work to earn an independent visa of my own accord. I’m giving up a year long international long-distance relationship I never asked for. I’m giving up wondering if our relationship would survive this, because together we made this final call and together we plan to move forward.

 

As of yet - we still don’t know where that will be, when that will be, how that will be, or what we will be doing. The reality is we did a lot of UN-doing to rebuild our lives elsewhere this year, and now we are left to sort through the messy pieces that remain and start all over with what’s left. It’s ugly and messy and we don’t want to do it, but it must be done.

 

I’ve never considered myself as someone who gives up. I preach hard and hold myself to my own high standards of commitment, discipline, accountability, and seeing things all the way through. The fact that I ultimately had to give up on this endeavor just plain sucks. It’s fundamentally against my nature. But… I refuse to give up any more of my mental health for this absolute trash fire of a situation over which I had very little control in the end.

 

TLDR; I may have given up on Ireland, but in doing so, I chose to NOT GIVE UP on myself.