In this article, I want to talk about the difficulty of waiting for decisions; this doesn’t particularly apply to studying abroad, but it can occur depending on your program. 

I am honored and ecstatic to announce that I have been selected as a semi-finalist for the Fulbright program. However, I applied in early October and did not receive my first decision until late January, and I’ll admit that I had many sleepless nights wondering about the outcome. 

For months, it felt like my fate and my future lived within an email inbox that would never ding for the right purposes. Friends and family asked me, “You graduate in May, what’s your plan?” And then I had to go into the long-winded explanation that I applied for Fulbright, so I’m putting off law school applications until I hear back from that decision, and then, the ultimate question: “What if you don’t get in?” 

Even as a semi-finalist, I do not find out my true fate until May, when they announce the official Fulbright finalists, which leads me to my point: the waiting game. How do you survive, knowing that a decision that will change your life is sitting only a few months ahead? 

Well, I think the first thing to recognize is the gift of the “Burnt Toast Theory.” Every time you burn your toast, it could be a sign that something horrific could happen to you that day, and those few minutes of remaking your toast could save you from a car accident. 

Of course, life doesn’t always work this way, but it makes the pain of rejection so much easier to reconcile with; when life sets you back, sometimes it is for a reason, and that is an important distinction to make. 

I applied to multiple study abroad programs throughout my life, starting in high school. I had dreams of going to Paris since childhood – my bedroom was even themed after it. I applied to a year-long program for my junior year when my mom sat me down for a serious conversation: my dad was sick, and there was a large possibility that he would pass away when I was abroad. 

So, I made the big girl decision to withdraw from the program’s consideration, even though it was my dream. I looked at my little Eiffel Tower lamp every night, my Paris sheets and my France-themed clothes in my closet every day, and I desired the opportunity to go abroad, but I knew I made the right decision at that time. 

I avoided the waiting, but I regretted that decision until COVID-19 hit, when I realized that my time abroad would have been wasted, rotting away in a house in a foreign country, quarantined with no one in my family. 

And, my mom was right. My dad passed away during the time frame that I was supposed to be in France, and I could not be more thankful for her honesty in that moment, because I would much rather spend time with my dying father than explore the world on my own. 

So, if I don’t get into Fulbright, I don’t know what my next plan is. Maybe I’ll start studying for law school and take a gap year, but it’s also important to note that it is okay that I don’t know my next step. 

Waiting turns ambition against you, makes you question whether you aimed too high, whether you misread your own potential, and whether all the work you did was ever enough. The longer the silence stretches, the louder those questions get, but this is the time you can teach yourself valuable lessons. 

Waiting is not always wasted time; sometimes it is time when we are forced to confront what matters most. Sometimes it delays us, but sometimes it saves us.

And the waiting makes the announcement so much sweeter. The work put into applications, essays, and letters of recommendation all come to fulfillment when you open that email: “You’re Accepted!” 

If you received instant gratification and notifications for everything you applied for, I feel the joy would slowly seep out of the experience; it’s like living Christmas every day. It feels awesome at first, but the novelty wears off quickly. 

I don’t know what happens in May; I don’t know if my next step is Fulbright, LSAT prep books, a gap year, or an odd-end job. What I do know is that the waiting has already taught me to live with uncertainty rather than trying to outrun or fight it.