Living in Limbo: Waiting for PR, Citizenship, or a Work Permit
Part 3 of The Emotional Side of Immigration Series
When Waiting for Permanent Residence Becomes Part of Everyday Life
By the spring of 2026, I had reached a point that many immigrants eventually know all too well. I was tired of waiting.
Not devastated. Not hopeless. Just deeply, thoroughly tired.
For months, and really for years if I am honest, immigration had occupied far more space in my life than I wanted it to. There were applications, timelines, immigration groups, processing estimates, portal updates, and endless discussions about what certain statuses might mean. At first, I checked everything obsessively. Like many people going through the process, I convinced myself that if I paid enough attention, researched enough, and checked often enough, I might somehow gain a sense of control over something that was largely outside my control.
Of course, it didn't work.
Eventually I stopped checking quite so often. Not because I had become more patient, but because I was exhausted. Hope can be surprisingly heavy when you have been carrying it for years. There comes a point where you stop looking for miracles around every corner and simply continue with your life because there is no other realistic option.
Around that time, Matthew and I spent a few days at the Lamplighter Inn to celebrate my 50th birthday. Looking back, I think I needed that little getaway more than I realized. For a few days I wasn't thinking about immigration every waking moment. We enjoyed the pool, relaxed, celebrated, and simply lived our lives. It felt good to focus on something other than forms, portals, and processing times.
When we returned home, I unpacked a few things and sat down at my computer. Almost absent-mindedly, I logged into the immigration portal. Even now I can hear myself thinking, "I'll just check one more time."
I wasn't expecting anything.
In fact, by then I had reached the point where I expected nothing at all.
That was probably why I checked.
Why Immigration Anxiety Doesn't Stay Inside the Immigration Process
One of the strangest things about immigration is that it rarely stays neatly contained within the immigration process itself.
People often imagine waiting as something temporary and separate from everyday life. You submit your application, wait patiently, receive an answer, and move on. At least that is the theory.
The reality is very different.
Immigration has a way of quietly following you everywhere. It joins you when you are making financial decisions. It appears when someone asks about your future plans. It sits down beside you when you are trying to decide whether to travel, whether to commit to something long-term, or whether it is finally safe to believe that things are going to work out.
For years, I found myself thinking in sentences that all began the same way.
"Once I have PR..."
"Once everything is finalized..."
"Once I know what's happening..."
Looking back, I realize how much of my future I had mentally attached to those words. Without meaning to, I had begun treating permanent residence as the moment when life would finally settle down and make sense. The problem was that immigration processes rarely operate according to our preferred timelines. Life keeps moving while we wait, and sometimes the waiting stretches far longer than we ever imagined.
The Day My Background Check Finally Changed
When I logged into the portal that afternoon, I wasn't looking for a miracle. I was simply checking one last time before moving on with my day. By then I had spent so many months waiting that I had stopped expecting movement. In some ways, that felt easier than constantly hoping.
Then I noticed something had changed.
My Background Check had been completed.
At first I assumed I was misunderstanding what I was seeing. After all this time, movement felt almost suspicious. I checked the screen again and then noticed the date. The update had happened on my birthday.
Of all days.
I remember staring at the screen and wondering whether I had somehow interpreted it incorrectly. Immigration has a way of making even good news feel uncertain until somebody confirms it. So I immediately messaged my immigration lawyer. A short while later she replied and told me that not only had the Background Check been completed, but Final Decision had actually arrived the day before.
Looking back, what I remember most clearly is not excitement but disbelief. It was the strange feeling that comes when something you have hoped for over such a long period of time finally begins to happen. After years of waiting, my brain seemed unwilling to catch up with reality.
Final Decision: The Email I Had Been Waiting Years For
Before immigration, terms like Background Check, Final Decision, P1, P2, and eCOPR meant absolutely nothing to me. Years later, those same words somehow carried enough emotional weight to influence entire days.
When Final Decision finally arrived, it wasn't simply another update in a long process. It represented years of applications, planning, uncertainty, setbacks, paperwork, waiting, hoping, and occasionally wondering whether this dream would ever become reality.
I first fell in love with Canada in 2000. At the time, I had no idea how much of my future would eventually become connected to this country. Twenty-six years later, I was sitting in my rental home staring at a screen, trying to convince myself that what I was reading was actually real.
Life is strange sometimes.
The things that change us most often begin as tiny moments that seem insignificant at the time. A visit. A dream. A possibility. Then years later, you find yourself looking back and realizing that a thread has been quietly running through your life all along.
Why Waiting for PR Feels So Emotionally Exhausting
Looking back now, I don't think I was only waiting for permanent residence.
I was waiting for certainty.
I was waiting for stability.
I was waiting for permission to exhale.
For years, part of my brain remained busy calculating possibilities. What if this happens? What if it doesn't? What if there is another delay? What if I misunderstood something? What if I should have submitted something differently? Most people never saw those thoughts because they existed quietly in the background. From the outside, life looked fairly normal. I was working, parenting, building a practice, making plans, and moving forward.
Yet there was always a part of me carrying an unanswered question.
The challenge with unanswered questions is that they don't stay in one place. They follow you. They show up when you wake up in the morning. They sit beside you while you are making decisions. They appear unexpectedly when someone asks a simple question about the future.
And after a while, carrying uncertainty becomes exhausting.
The Most Unexpected Place to Receive Immigration News
Ironically, I learned about Final Decision while sitting in my own therapy session.
Yes, therapists have therapists too, and I have become increasingly convinced that we should talk about that more openly.
By that point, the mental load of immigration had become too heavy to carry alone. I wasn't falling apart, and I certainly wasn't unable to function. I was still working, parenting, and doing all the things life required of me. But carrying uncertainty for years takes a toll, even when everything appears fine from the outside.
During that session, I checked my email and saw the message.
Final Decision.
I opened it, read it once, and then read it again. A few seconds later I stopped listening to my therapist entirely. To be fair, I am sure she was saying something thoughtful, insightful, and probably worth hearing. Unfortunately, I couldn't tell you what it was.
After years of hoping, planning, worrying, waiting, and wondering, this moment belonged entirely to me.
For a few minutes I wasn't interested in analysing my emotions or discussing what they meant. I simply wanted to sit there and absorb the reality that something I had dreamed about for decades was finally becoming real. Some moments feel almost sacred because they arrive after such a long period of uncertainty. For me, this was one of those moments.
What P1, P2, and eCOPR Really Meant to Me
The following day, P1 arrived.
What I remember most is the overwhelming sense of relief. I laughed, cried, laughed again, and probably cycled through half a dozen emotions within a matter of minutes. If anyone had walked into the room at that moment, they might reasonably have questioned my emotional stability. Fortunately, most immigrants would probably have understood exactly what was happening.
For the first time, I could see the finish line.
The journey wasn't completely over yet. P2 still had to arrive. eCOPR still had to arrive. There were still steps ahead. Yet something fundamental had changed. For years, I had been wondering whether we would get there. Suddenly, that question had been answered.
The waiting between P1 and P2 lasted about two weeks. Compared to everything that had come before, those two weeks felt surprisingly manageable. The uncertainty had changed shape. I was no longer wondering whether this dream would become reality. I was simply waiting for reality to catch up.
Citizenship Waiting Times, PR Delays, and Life in Limbo
One of the reasons immigration can feel so difficult is that it places people in a space that often feels impossible to explain to others.
You are not where you used to be.
You are not quite where you want to be.
You are somewhere in between.
The challenge is that nobody can tell you exactly how long the in-between will last. It might be weeks. It might be months. Sometimes it becomes years. During that time, life continues moving forward while part of you remains focused on an unanswered question.
I think that is why so many immigrants struggle with uncertainty. It isn't simply about paperwork or processing times. It is about trying to build a life while standing on ground that never feels entirely solid.
Learning to Live While Immigration Decisions Are Still Pending
If immigration taught me one thing, it is that life cannot be postponed indefinitely.
For a long time, I believed that I would finally relax after the next update. Then after the next one. Then after the next one. The problem was that there was always another milestone waiting around the corner. Another email. Another portal update. Another decision.
Meanwhile, life continued.
Matthew continued growing. Friendships deepened. New opportunities appeared. Ordinary moments happened. Birthdays came and went.
Looking back now, I am grateful that immigration was only one chapter of my life and not the entire story. It was an important chapter, certainly. A life-changing one. But while I was waiting for immigration decisions, life was quietly happening too. Some of my most meaningful memories from those years had nothing to do with immigration at all.
That is something I wish I had understood earlier.
Life does not begin when the waiting ends.
Life is already happening.
Why Therapy Can Help During Immigration Uncertainty
One of the reasons I wanted to share this story is because so many people carry immigration stress silently.
I certainly did.
There is often an unspoken expectation that we should simply be grateful, patient, and strong enough to handle everything ourselves. Yet carrying uncertainty for months or years can become incredibly heavy. Eventually I realized that seeking support was not a sign of weakness. It was a sign that I had been carrying a lot for a very long time.
Therapy didn't make immigration move faster.
Trust me, I asked. 
What it did provide was a place where I didn't have to pretend I was fine when I wasn't. A place where uncertainty, hope, frustration, fear, excitement, and disappointment could all exist together. Sometimes that kind of support makes all the difference.
Immigration Support in Ontario: You Don't Have to Go Through This Alone
If you are currently waiting for PR, citizenship, a work permit, sponsorship approval, or another immigration decision, I hope you know this:
What you are feeling makes sense.
The uncertainty is real.
The emotional weight is real.
And you do not have to carry it by yourself.
As a Registered Psychotherapist in Ontario and an immigrant myself, I understand many of these experiences both personally and professionally. I work with individuals, couples, and families navigating immigration stress, cultural adjustment, homesickness, loneliness, and major life transitions.
Online immigration mental-health coaching across Canada
Available in English and German
Part 1: I Finally Got My ECOPR: What Nobody Sees Behind the Golden Email
Part 2: Why Immigration Is So Exhausting (Even When Things Are Going Well)
Part 4:[INSERT LINK – "Your English Is So Good!" — The Hidden Struggle Behind Speaking a Second Language]
Part 5:[INSERT LINK – The Loneliness Nobody Prepared Me For]