109 - On trying again with the things

Because sometimes you have to wait and go again

The year was 2009. I was a medical student on a small Caribbean Island, with dreams to one day move to the U.S to practice medicine. However, one of the requirements for this dream was to do some clinical attachments abroad. As a Nigerian passport holder, this meant applying for a visa to America, where most of my colleagues went for their rotations.

At the time, most of the Nigerian students who applied for American visas were denied, so the school allowed students to make alternative arrangements for their rotations. I knew some of my colleagues were undertaking theirs in the UK, and so I decided to apply for a UK visa instead, which was easily granted.

I travelled to England on a visitor's visa, completed my 4-6 week rotation, and returned to my small island.

The following year, I applied to renew my UK visa as the previous one had elapsed and this time my application was denied.

Not just denied — they banned me from visiting the UK for ten years.

TEN. YEARS.

Apparently, I had breached the conditions of my visa by doing a clinical rotation, even though it was an unpaid observership. I was devastated and also, honestly, a bit humiliated. I didn’t feel like I had done anything wrong, and yet here I was, banned from an entire country.

There was a lot of weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. I remember sending frantic emails, trying to explain what happened, begging for someone to understand that I did not mean any deceit and reverse the decision.

I appealed the decision, and to be honest, the outcome was... inconclusive. They didn’t lift the ban, but they also didn’t explicitly say I couldn’t try again. So, I waited.

A few years later, after I had moved back to Nigeria, I decided to give it another shot. My sister was graduating from her Masters Program in the UK, and we wanted to attend as a family. I applied again — heart in mouth — and to my absolute delight, the visa was granted.

I was elated. I got on that flight, landed in London, breezed through immigration, picked up my bags, and sat down to connect to the airport Wi-Fi.

Next thing I know, the immigration officer who had waved me through just minutes earlier was walking toward me. He asked me to come with him.

That’s how I found myself in one of those rooms you only ever see on Border Patrol. You know the ones — fluorescent lights, weird silence, a mix of boredom and suspicion in the air. They started asking questions. Lots of them. Then they brought out my luggage and began going through it piece by piece.

I sat there quietly freaking out, convinced I was about to be deported before the trip had even begun. I don’t remember everything that happened because it feels like such a long time ago now, but somehow, after a few hours of questions and paperwork and waiting around, they let me go.

I walked out of that room shaken but grateful, dragging my bag and my dignity behind me.

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I mainly wanted to share this story to encourage somebody who might be facing rejection or some other seemingly insurmountable hurdle. While I’m here, I might as well share some of my personal reflections.

Rejection is not always the end.

If you’ve been told no before, it doesn’t mean the answer will always be no. At the time when I received that ban, it felt like the end, but it wasn’t. I think about how many things I’ve talked myself out of trying again just because the first attempt didn’t work out. Not everything is worth pursuing again, of course. But sometimes, it is.

Sometimes, the timing is wrong. Sometimes you aren’t ready. Sometimes the system is just being... the system. Sometimes you just need a different route or strategy.

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Time helps.

I had completely forgotten about this ban until my Citizenship ceremony prompted me to reflect on the journey. I had forgotten most of the details and had to go through my emails to remind myself of them.

When you’re in it, disappointment feels never-ending. But eventually, it passes. Even the most dramatic moments (hello, detention room at Heathrow) become blurry around the edges. It helps to remember that today’s disaster might be tomorrow’s testimony.

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You are allowed to try again.

This one feels obvious, but I forget it often. You don’t need anyone’s permission to try again. To apply again. To ask again. To start over. Sometimes we carry shame or fear or a weird internal rulebook that tells us, “You already failed at that, don’t embarrass yourself.” But here’s the truth: you can give yourself the permission to try again, even if you’ve failed before.

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It’s been years now, and this whole thing feels like a distant memory, but every so often I think about how final that initial rejection felt — and how it turned out not to be final at all. At the time, I was only applying for a visa to visit the United Kingdom as a tourist, but today I just sent off my documents for my UK passport application as a citizen.

It’s easy to let rejection convince us that a door is closed forever. Especially when the rejection is loud, official, and comes with a whole ban. But sometimes, time softens hard edges.

Sometimes, circumstances shift. And sometimes, you just have to try again — a little older, a little wiser, a little less afraid.

Recently, I listened to

Episode 181 of The Knowledge Project. This is the second part of a two-part special with Shane and Dr Gio Valiente. Dr Valiente is a performance psychologist who works with top-performing athletes and businessmen. They talk about success hacks and the importance of resilience. How to build resilience and manage failure and so on. Very insightful conversation as usual.

Recently I read

Regretting Motherhood - A Study by Orna Donath. My. friend Sabirah shared this book many years ago and I took a screenschot and added it to my TBR list but only got round to reading it over the Easter break.

This book is a very important study of Motherhood, a topic that is sometimes considered too sacred to comment negatively on. Watching more and more of my friends and family become mothers has radicalised me. I truly believe that women should be allowed and encouraged to speak more openly and honestly about the realities of motherhood, including the unpretty bits.

Another reason I think work like this is important is that it might help the next generation of women make more informed decisions regarding their own individual journeys through womanhood.

Loved the book.

The weather is still acting confused and the days sometimes feel longer than I like, but this is definitely my favourite time of the year and I am looking forward to engaging in summer shenanigans.

Hope life is treating you well.

Here’s wishing you the patience to wait and the resilience to go again.

Chioma.