Waiting for an immigration decision and coping with the uncertainty

I arrived in Ireland on 3 March 2024, full of hope for a fresh start and new opportunities. Since then, I’ve been living through one of the most uncertain times of my life, waiting for an immigration decision that seems to take forever.

Early on, I filed my first application because I wanted to make sure I had everything in order for my future here and to support my family. When immigration asked for additional documents, I felt a surge of hope.

I quickly gathered the papers and sent them back, thinking things would now move forward. Instead, I received silence. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. I check for updates and feel that same empty waiting. This silence has been one of the hardest parts: not knowing what will happen, when I can plan or travel, or if I will be allowed to be with my family when they need me.

Impact on mental health and family

The waiting has deeply affected my mental health. Every day life feels fragile and uncertain. I feel stuck, like my life is on pause while other people continue living their plans and moving forward. Simple things feel heavy: making decisions, applying for courses, even thinking about the future. The stress shows up as sleepless nights, a constant low-level panic in my chest, and moments when I can’t focus because my mind defaults to worst-case scenarios.

One of the most painful parts of being here and waiting is being far from my family. My mother is in Mauritius receiving chemotherapy. She has had serious side effects. My sister keeps me updated about her condition, and hearing about the pain and how treatment affects her breaks my heart. Sometimes her feet have blackened and bled from the treatment; it’s hard to hear and not be able to sit with her at the hospital, to hold her hand, or to say the small things that matter. The thought of not being there if something goes wrong is something I think about every day.

There have been moments when the feeling of helplessness has become unbearable. I’ve felt like giving up, even having suicidal thoughts, because the waiting and the worry felt too heavy to carry. It’s hard to say that out loud, but it shows how much this situation has pushed me to my limits.

Finding anchors

Even so, I try to find ways to keep going. I throw myself into creative projects and volunteer work that give me a sense of purpose. I’ve been involved in sustainability projects and a fashion show called “Trash to Trend,” where we use waste plastic bottles to create garden settings and clothing—small things that remind me there are ways to create beauty, even from difficult circumstances. Making TikTok videos—often with Bollywood songs or short quotes—helps too. Sometimes it’s silly and small, but it brings moments of joy and connection. Seeing a friendly comment or like can genuinely lift my mood.

My cat Minou is a quiet comfort. She’s mostly an indoor cat who prefers my dad, but on days when I feel low, she comes and sits near me. She doesn’t always show affection, but when she does, it feels like a small, unspoken permission to breathe. Those little moments—a message from a friend, a project that works out, a quiet minute with Minou—matter more than I expected.

I have also built small daily rituals: a short walk in fresh air, a cup of tea while scrolling through ideas for projects, or arranging recycled bottles into something resembling a garden. These tiny routines do not fix the big things, but they prevent me from being consumed by them. I celebrate small victories: a volunteer event that goes well, a dress idea made from old materials, a TikTok that makes someone laugh, or a message from my sister telling me Mum smiled that day. On harder days, I allow myself to rest without guilt, understanding that rest is not giving up but recharging.

Redefining hope

Hope now looks different than when I first arrived; it’s less about big promises and more about small, stubborn choices. I choose to write, connect, look after my mental health, make a meal, and call my sister afterwards. I try to picture possible futures—going back to study, finding work that fits, finally sitting beside my mother if I’m allowed to travel—and then take one small step in that direction, even if that step is only planning. Fear hasn’t disappeared; there are nights when everything feels too loud and the idea of carrying on seems impossible. But when that happens, I reach out to a friend, a volunteer coordinator, or a text helpline.

A shared experience

I know I am not the only person waiting for an immigration decision. Many people in Ireland are stuck in the same limbo—separated from loved ones, uncertain about the future, and overwhelmed by the waiting. If you are reading this and feel the same, I want you to know your feelings are real and valid. It’s okay to be scared, angry, or exhausted. It doesn’t mean you are weak. It means you are human.

I am still waiting. I don’t know what will come next. But I am trying to keep hope alive with the small acts that remind me I can still create, connect, and care for the people I love, even across the distance. I will keep sharing my story because it helps me make sense of the struggle, and maybe it will help someone else feel less alone.

Feeling overwhelmed and want to talk to someone?

• Get anonymous support 24/7 with our text message support service
• Connect with a trained volunteer who will listen to you, and help you to move forward feeling better
• Whatsapp us now or free-text SPUNOUT to 50808 to begin.
• Find out more about our text message support service

If you are a customer of the 48 or An Post network or cannot get through using the ‘50808’ short code please text HELLO to 086 1800 280 (standard message rates may apply). Some smaller networks do not support short codes like ‘50808’.