What Dreams Cost

I have a work visa, now I have to secure a job and figure out how to get there.

Two years ago, I left Belize certain of one thing: I was going to break into network news. This week I got the call of my dreams—an invitation to interview for a News Associate position in Washington, D.C.—and I had to say no. Not because I didn’t want it, but because I couldn’t afford it.

When I first landed in Missouri almost two years ago, I felt triumphant. I had scholarships from both the University of Missouri and the Government of Belize, enough to cover tuition, rent, and keep me afloat in a new country. For the first time, my dream of becoming a journalist in the United States felt within reach.

I’m back on Substack, as promised.

This past Sunday, August 24th, I finally got the news I’d been waiting months for: my application for Optional Practical Training, a one-year work permit in the U.S., was approved.

The e-mail that finally informed me that my work visa had been approved.

Less than 24 hours later, I got the call of a lifetime: a major U.S. news network offered me the chance to interview to become a News Associate in Washington, D.C.

For anyone who’s followed my journey, you know that working in network news is my ultimate goal. While I dream of getting there as a correspondent one day, becoming a News Associate would have been the perfect stepping stone. But here’s the part that breaks my heart: I had to say no.

Because this is what dreams cost.

Life in D.C. on a starting salary is brutal. Just to move into a shared apartment with at least two roommates, I would have needed $2,600 up front for first month’s rent and a down payment. I already knew how unsustainable that reality was. I managed it last January, only with a $10,000.00 USD stipend that mainly paid rent. From January to May during my ABC News Fellowship, my partner, our puppy, and I lived in what was essentially a closet with high ceilings, a 0-bedroom apartment that cost $ 2,000.00 USD each month (that’s $ 4,000.00 BZD). Nothing about the cost of living in the U.S. Capitol was easy.

Pictured here is our D.C. apartment: front door, kitchen, and the entrance to our bathroom.

So when my Curricular Practical Training permission expired at the end of May and I was no longer allowed to work, we made the decison to leave. It felt like walking away from the center of my career—packing up not just suitcases but all the momentum I had fought to build. My partner, Clay, still had work, but life in D.C. on one income would have been impossible. So, we packed up our lives and moved to North Carolina, where the cost of living is lower and we have family support. It wasn’t easy stepping away from the center of things, but staying would have meant sinking even further into debt. Moving also meant choosing my relationship, since Clay has begun training as a fibre splicer here, a path that promises steady income and will ultimately put us back on solid financial ground. And of course, there was Penny. I couldn’t justify making life even harder on her in a city that was already stretching us thin.

The truth is, I’ve been unemployed for three months, burning through what little savings I had left and surviving on credit cards while I waited to find out if my visa would be approved, or if I’d be forced to return to Belize. I’m relieved I can stay, but relief doesn’t pay the bills. Right now, my biggest hurdle isn’t landing my dream job. It’s something far more practical: scraping together enough money to buy a low-budget car so I can get to and from whatever local news job I can find near Raleigh.

Eventually, I know I’ll have to return to D.C. or New York if I’m going to build the career I’ve always envisioned. But that will come later—maybe two years from now, after we’ve rebuilt some financial stability. For now, the reality is humbler: survive, work, and keep moving forward.

This isn’t the glamorous version of chasing a dream. It’s the real one. The version where the doors you’ve worked so hard to open don’t always lead to hallways you can afford to walk down.

But I’m here. I’ve got three months on the clock to find work, and I still believe the path will come together.

Because this is what dreams cost.

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✨ I’ll be posting more frequently here on Substack as I navigate this next chapter—sharing the raw reality of chasing big dreams while balancing the cost. I’ll also start writing independent Journalism articles. If you’d like to support my journey, consider becoming a paid subscriber. Any little bit truly helps.