These past few days, I’ve been worrying. About Chile. I’ve thought, “maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe this isn’t my opportunity. Maybe I don’t want to do this.”

But, alas, I’ve already put a lit of money into it. The only thing to do is keep moving. So I started seriously working on my visa. Last weekend, my FBI background check finally came through, so it was time to get moving on it.

I made a few calls, then called my parents to make sure they’d done something safe with the background check.

They hadn’t. In fact, one of them actually threw it away.

So it’s gone. Poof. Like it was never there. Because the FBI won’t resend it. The only way to get a copy of it is to submit my fingerprints all over again. You know, because the Federal government really has a vested interest in actually helping people.

On my drive from Vancouver to Olympia, I thought about my options. I thought about these worries I’ve been having. They’re real worries, that’s for sure. This is something I’ve never done. This is fucking scary. No one in my extended family has even moved out from the west coast.

And here I am, relocating to South America. That’s weird.

Anyway, it came down to a choice. I could give it up now. I had an excuse — those background checks take up to three months to process, and there are 85 days until I have to leave. And then, of course, there’s the visa that has to be processed. Because of this setback, I’m cutting it really damn close.

If I wanted to take it back, now was my chance.

Or, I could chalk up the fear to a normal part of the experience. I could go and send in another packet to the FBI today, beg them to expedite it, and try like hell to make it work.

So now my hands are smudged in black from the fingerprint ink. I have a shifting focus, but I’ve never just given up. I’m not about to start now.

So no. This wasn’t a test. It’s just a speed bump. “Winners never quit, but winters never rest.”