Lucky me, but this was not a matter of luck.

Take a peek into the emotional rollercoaster of achieving a dream, while I look back on the process of it.

Sometimes I wonder how I am seen by others. Not through this blog, because I would say I'm pretty transparent here, but for example, on social media. “I sure look quite annoying,” I think on the days when I share my accomplishments, “well they should just deal with it”. On other days it's more like: “Maybe I'm too dissociated...”, “All is good here, nothing to watch!” I think, on those days I feel like the meme of the little dog sitting in a burning room, trying to keep calm.

I know most of us get cringe watching videos or lives of people crying on Tik Tok or Instagram, as they share with their virtual circle the ups and downs of life, but I also think it's very naive to think that what we see of others' lives on social media is all of their reality.

It is common for us to conclude about others' lives from how little or how much they “show” on social media. But the same is true of their verbal or written communication, and even their not-so-explicit communication.

I recently achieved a goal that I have been working on for the last 5 years…

I recently achieved a goal that I have been working on for the last 5 years... German citizenship. The day the formal act of receiving my Einbürgerung took place, I uploaded a couple of stories sharing my achievement with friends and family. So without much context, a picture of me with the folder containing the official papers that cost me so many sleepless nights, tears, fatigue, and uncertainty.

I thought about not uploading anything, to keep the joy to myself... to feel it, no post or story is needed, but I was overcome with emotion.

The folder, adorned with the Landshut government crest, included a couple of sheets with my official appointment as a German citizen. That and a pocket Constitution were given to me in an appointment that lasted an hour.

The days before I slept little, thinking about the road I had traveled. I remembered my first job in Germany, and how grateful I was to have been hired despite having no local references or direct experience. I remembered the many times I held back tears on the bus ride home as a bunch of teenagers looked at me like a freak, while I relived in my mind the disparaging remarks of my co-workers.

Starting from scratch on the job also means gaining the respect of colleagues for whom your resume or country experience may not mean much.

I remembered the tiredness and the desire to crawl into my warm bed and watch Netflix, instead of having to come home in the winter, showering in a hurry to rush off to my German classes. But I also couldn't help but remember the inspiring stories of my classmates. Extremely hardworking people, who literally gave their all every day, so they could give their families a better life, they could send money back to their home countries, so they could eventually get better-paying jobs.

Thankful for all the lovely people who wait for me to finish my sentences, though it is sometimes hard for them to understand what I mean.

I still have a lot to learn, my level of German is officially intermediate, but living in Bavaria it feels like I am less than that. While this can be an insecurity for those of us who are in the same situation, it is also a limitation in terms of work.

It is clear to me that in the not-too-distant future, I will return to continue learning this language.

I am so thankful for the job opportunities that consider applicants with English and other EU languages.

Like a succubus, suddenly a thought crawled into my mind...

I also remembered the women in the supermarket, who were noticeably uncomfortable with my presence, sweeping me up and down, rolling their eyes when they heard me awkwardly speaking in their native language, or even turning their faces away from me to say hello. Sweeping me up and down with their eyes, rolling their eyes when they awkwardly listened to me speak in their native language, or when they even turned their faces to deny me the greeting. Like a succubus, suddenly a thought crawled into my mind: “A piece of paper will not make you belong, it will not give you the acceptance of the people around you”, “...for them, you will always be a migrant”, "Now you are neither here nor there....", "So now what? You are going to contact three different countries to see if you can put together a decent retirement fund with all the pieces...".

My mind pulling the worst scenarios is not a new thing.

I remembered that time when a friend of mine, also a migrant, and I were riding in the bus, which was almost empty. A man in a wheelchair, followed by two other guys, got on the The guys spoke loudly and rudely. One of them came over to where my friend and I were sitting and told me to get up because he wanted to sit right where I was sitting. I looked around and noticed at least 15 free places where he could sit. I tried to ignore him, as I stared at the driver of the truck, hoping he would notice something was wrong. The man in the wheelchair told him to leave us alone, so the guy desisted.

Thought of all the times many times the husband and I imagined this moment, how we laughed thinking about what we could do to celebrate the day I became a citizen: for example, buying the traditional glass bowl that all German families seem to have.

The image of my parents hugging me and telling me how much they love me also came to mind. Every goodbye at the airport after mutual visits, that lump in my throat after telling them how much I admire them, and how I miss them when they are not around.

I thought of my abuelita, her hugs full of life, affection, and love, telling me: “I always knew you were different mijita*, that you didn't want what most people want...I'll take you here” - she said as she rested her palm on her chest.

As Bad Bunny says in his song "DTMF" after "enjoying all those things that the ones that left miss".

On that early Monday morning, the clock showed that I could still close my eyes, relax and get at least 5 hours of sleep. Then I started to remember the cold Canadian winter, the tiredness in my legs after working on my feet for 8 hours, traveling by truck for 40 minutes, and then walking home for another 20 minutes in temperatures between - 1 and -19°C. It sounds sad, it sounds tired, but it didn't feel that way, because my parents and my brother were there! They took turns to accompany me on the journey. We took advantage of the time to talk, to catch up on daily trivia, to imagine the future, to reminisce about our life in Mexico. So, being a migrant, and being far away from dual citizenship, and at the same time from a “normal” life in Mexico, it didn't matter my immigration status, because everything important was there.

I am a lucky person, definitely!

I am a lucky person, definitely! So, all of a sudden, that dream-stealing entity disintegrated and left my mind, I felt the love of my loved ones, their affection, their presence, and above all their faith in me. Suddenly it became very clear that I had to accept this achievement, that I had to show up the next day and accept citizenship. We were barely going to fit in the car, the husband and I, accompanied by uncertainty, and its beasts: anxiety and fear... But, also with one of my allies: Hope.  (By the way, speaking of allies, I also dedicated a segment in my mental review to my friends, who from Mexico, other countries, or even here nearby, give me life with their words of encouragement. With their podcasts, and even with reels and memes they send me. They are like my magical godmothers, their support is truly worth gold!)

If we imagine the emotional burden I carry, as a figure of people, the husband's car would undoubtedly look like a clown cart, full of passengers, one more uncomfortable than the other (that's how delulu it all is).

Those Whatsapp voice messages have magic powers I swear!

That weird group of feelings: sadness, uncertainty, fear, and hope, welcomed one more emotion: guilt. "Here I am enjoying the many advantages of life in Germany, while time does not spare the life and health of my family. Migrants who read me will understand very well what I mean. “I am already here, paying the high price (emotional, monetary, and physical) of being here, I should also enjoy the fruits of my labor”...But what really is happiness if it is not shared? I think, while once again, I pick up my cell phone and start quoting flights to visit my homeland, or for my parents to come and see me.

Some might say I was lucky, but none of this is luck. It all comes from decisions, from taking action, from small sacrifices (like not enjoying many of the precious summer afternoons, being in class, or doing homework), and other much heavier ones (like leaving my family behind).

I am thankful for all the opportunities and alignments (which I see less and less as coincidences) that brought me to this place. I also thank those who in different parts of the process were present with their support? Puff! at this point I thank even the skeptics, for their dose of “reality”, and for not coming to saturate the path.

*For more memes on migrating to Germany, go here.

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