Open Post To CBS

It's almost embarrassing to admit that up until recently, I watched The Bold and The Beautiful religiously.  I followed the story of Rick and Maya with intense interest, hoping that CBS would treat Maya and her transformation with respect while using it as a plot devise.  I feel that CBS did justice to the transgender part of GLBT, but what followed this couple's 'happily for a little while' (after all this is a soap opera) was nothing short of offensive.

I thought we would be dealing with your standard love triangle in regards to Liam, Ivy, Steffy, and Wyatt.  I was indignant to say the least when it was revealed that Ivy wanted Liam to marry her for immigration purposes.  This is illegal, immoral, and a slap in the face to each and every one of us that is stuck in this immigration nightmare.  My husband, best friend, and father of my only child has been waiting for more than half a decade to be granted the opportunity to return to the USA to be with his family.  When you take into consideration my personal experience and exquisite torment that is living without your soul mate, one can see why I find this plot line infinitely more disrespectful than TLC's 90 Day Fiance.

Ciao,

Deza

Crafting Arrows for Battle

I received the I-130 interview letter this week from the USCIS. Molly sent me a copy via email along with a memorandum that outlines the categories for which I should supply proofs to support the status of our very real relationship. The 5 categories that I need to cover are: 1) Evidence of Visits and Communication, 2) Financial Records for Joint Assets or Liabilities, 3) Birth Certificate of Child Born to the Marriage, 4) Statements from at Least Three Persons, 5) Other Evidence Establishing a Bona Fide Relationship. I immediately made a list of what I had in my files or could obtain and sent that information back to Molly asking if there was anything I might be overlooking. I also mentioned that some of the documentation I don’t have copies of (i.e. last bank account we held jointly) should be in the waiver packet we sent back in February of 2012. Lance said, “Just add to the heap of paper post waiver submission.” Ok, that gives me a starting point!

I opened my copy of the waiver and reviewed the table of contents and scrolled through some of the pages to see what they already had. I started a table of contents for the documents I was going to give Lance and Molly since I am nothing if not obsessively organized when it comes to anything immigration related. At the end of day one, I had printed and cataloged over one hundred pages of supporting documentation that I had on my flash drive. Those hundred pages were almost exclusively tax returns from 2007 through 2012 and I didn’t print copies of W2s or other supporting documentation.

Distressing anniversaries

Last week was particularly hard on me in ways that I hadn't anticipated. My psychiatrist canceled my appointment a few hours before I was supposed to go and see her. I was counting on being able to discuss my feelings and this desperate need to occupy myself with a rational third party. I had been hoping that she might have some special tip to combat the anxiety that was threatening to strangle me on a near daily basis. Maybe it's time I put some serious time into finding either a meditation or yoga class that could work with my schedule.

For the last two weeks Alberto had been sending me a message through Facebook. It wasn't elaborate, just a simple good morning, but it was really nice to know that he was thinking of me while he was 2000 miles away. One day the messages stopped without warning or any apparent reason. For two whole days I heard nothing, my phone calls to Alberto's cell phone didn't ring half the time and my calls to the Madrina weren't going through either. By the time I got through to the Comadre I had envisioned a catastrophe and Alberto in the hospital with no way to communicate with me. The Comadre said that Alberto was still in Mexico City and working in the store, so I asked her to tell the Compadre to have Alberto contact me.

Sick and Tired

I truly believe that a pack of wild monkeys could run USCIS better than the powers that be.  So far this year we were told our file was sent to Consulate in Cuidad Juarez for processing, then that it was received by the National Visa Center which didn’t make any sense at all.  Today may actually take the cake in regards to baffling behavior; we’ve only just learned that the National Visa Center sent our file to the California Service Center to review the approved I-130 petition.  I’ll let you read the emails I received today...

Just give me a push

I am often amused by the males of our species and today I witnessed something that ranks pretty high on the usual scale.  I was walking back to my desk from the kitchen, minding my own business, when I walked past a window and became engrossed in the drama unfolding in our parking lot.  Exterior scene, nearly empty parking lot at mid-day.  A scruffy-looking man in his mid 20’s and his car, a Honda hatchback that has seen better decades, is visible through the window.  It appears that he is having car trouble.  Enter the curious employee.

‘Scruffy’ had the door on his car open and was pushing the disabled vehicle across the parking lot.  The end destination was apparently the very busy street right in front of the building.  He pushed the car into the street, jumped in the driver’s side seat and attempted to start the car.  When nothing happened Scruffy seemed more concerned that the engine still wouldn’t turn over instead of the amount of traffic whizzing by mere inches from his bumper.  After wildly gesturing his frustration at the willfulness his car was demonstrating for one and all, Scruffy got out to push the car back into the parking lot.  It was at this time a male coworker noticed the disabled vehicle and rushed over the help push the car back into the parking lot.  After a few moments of discussion, Scruffy and his new apprentice pushed the car across the parking lot and back into the street.

I bite my thumb at you, sir

Brian pisses me off.  I hardly have words to describe the anger the man is capable of generating in me.  It would have been an ugly thing if I had run into him today after the newest outrage.  I swear that if I had the means, I would fire this clown in a heartbeat.

 

It all started last week when the hearing regarding our motion to contest restitution was rescheduled AGAIN, because the Writ was not served in enough time.  I gather the counties only require a few days’ notice to transfer a detainee, whereas immigration needs a minimum of 2 weeks to process such a request.  Brian forwarded me a series of email between himself, the prosecutor, and the clerk of court as they went back and forth setting a new date.  Brian requested June 7th at 2:45 pm, which was fine with the prosecutor, however the Judge was in trial at that time so the clerk offered several different times on the same day.  Maybe I’ll just let you read parts of the email change so you can see why they irritate me so.  It starts from the most recent and ends with the forwarded email chain.

‘Get Out of Relationship Free’ Card

I know my mother-in-law doesn’t necessarily talk to me about the family issues, but I really don’t like being taken by surprise by problems.  My husband asked me if I knew why Dacia left her boyfriend and said that he was told there had been abuse within the relationship.  Now I know Dacia’s father Ignacio has been abusive to my sister-in-law and Dacia has pleaded with her mother to leave him before, so I was surprised to hear this.  I promised I would find out what I could and tell him what I’d learned at our next visit.  I talked to my mother-in-law and she told me that Roberto had hit Dacia several times and even cut her once with a razor when they had been fighting.  I was shocked, but the only other thing Gisela could tell me is that Dacia’s father told her to come to Mexico with Junior.

As luck would have it, Dacia decided to visit her uncle today so I had the opportunity to speak with her alone.  I didn’t ask her about the situation on our way to the jail, but instead used what she said to Alberto during the visit as the foundation for my own questions.  She asked me about traveling to Mexico and what Junior would need to fly, or to cross the border in a car.  She wouldn’t be able to fly to Mexico with Junior if he didn’t have a passport, but they could cross the border in a vehicle as long as she had a certified copy of his birth certificate.  I told her it was in her best interest to apply for Junior’s passport and postpone traveling until she had it, but that apparently is not an option.  It’s something she needs to take care of as soon as possible or Junior will have trouble getting one in the future if the USCIS decides to claim he stole someone else’s identity.  I asked her why she was leaving all of a sudden and she told me she did something stupid; she went out with another guy.  I asked if the relationship could be fixed or was Roberto abusive.  She told me Roberto wants her to come back to him, but she doesn’t want to be with him anymore because he’s too jealous.  She stated that he wasn’t abusive to her or their son; she just didn’t want to deal with his jealousies anymore.  She sheepishly told me that she wove a story for her Abuelita about abuse because she was afraid that Gisela wouldn’t let her come home if she knew the truth.  I said something about the fact that Roberto is a Mexican/Chicano male, implying that she should’ve known he would be somewhat jealous.  Alberto was the same way when he was Roberto’s age, that’s why I quit working at McDonalds – we were fighting all the time over stupid things.

Turning over a ‘New Leaf’

I have always had trouble losing weight.  It’s a battle that is hard won no matter what the commercials for the latest fat burning pill or metabolism boosting supplements say.  I have to keep telling myself that the solution will not come out of some cleverly packaged capsule or beautifully designed box.  Such a shocking concept!  I realized I couldn’t afford WeightWatchers anymore so I did a few things on my own.  I joined myfitnesspal for the support, and started talking to my coworkers who I know were working on losing weight.  I needed a program that would work for me with the amount of time I had available and hopefully get results I could see.  I even talked to a personal trainer at my gym to see what he thought since I had been working out full tilt without seeing changes.  He told me that I was probably working too hard and burning the wrong calories, carbohydrates instead of fat calories.  I wasn’t about to brush off the type of advice I had been looking for, so I continued asking questions.  Within 30 minutes I was signed up something I had never heard of before: New Leaf Metabolism testing.

I presented myself at the gym at the appointed hour, a time I often refer to as the butt crack of dawn, unsure what to expect.  We sat down in a consultation room and talked about the program and what this test was about.  Today we were going to do my resting metabolism test to determine how many calories I burn daily based on my lifestyle, height, and weight.  The machine measures how much oxygen you inhale and how much carbon dioxide you exhale, so you have to wear a mask.  In the interest of conquering my fat deposits, I decided to bite the bullet and get it over with.  I wasn’t expecting it to look like some sort of fetish mask!  It reminds me of the characters (called snowths apparently) from the Muppets that were in the Mahna Mahna song!  I went through it, and the first test was just me sitting on a chair, breathing, for 20 minutes.  Exciting right?  I made the second appointment for later in the week, dreading having to exercise with the stupid thing on.

Just another Monday

After spending the weekend with a sick girl I was happy to see Monday for a change.  Ashley had a fever all weekend which culminated at 9 pm Sunday evening when the poor girl was sick all over the family room sofa.  These are the times it sucks the most to be a single parent.  I could care less about the mess really, but Ashley needs to be held and reassured after getting sick.  I understand my duties well, and thankfully she has come to the age where she knows that Mamí only has two hands.  She was fine once her stomach was empty which gave me the opportunity to clean up the mess before any damage was done.  Three blankets and her loyal stuffed puppy fell victim to the deluge, luckily her other favorite blanket was immediately available fresh out of the dryer.  I tried my hardest to get her to sleep in her own bed, but I should have known being sick trumps all arguments.  I woke up at a quarter to 4 with Ashley curled into my side.  She managed to nudge me over until I was less than a quarter of an inch away from falling out of bed.  The girl has talent.

This morning was our seventh immigration hearing.  I was expecting more of the same, belligerent guards and jaded officials, only to be taken completely by surprise.  Not to say that it was all flowers and sunshine, but no one went out of their way to be unpleasant for a change.  If I were less skeptical, I would say the guards by the metal detector were displaying empathy for me and my situation.  I looked around at the pleasant faces and felt like at any moment some idiot with a video camera would jump out of his hiding place to declare I was on Candid Camera. 

Infierno

I consider today to be somewhat of a disappointment, but I suppose it could have been worse.  We had our third immigration hearing this morning and the weather certainly made driving interesting.  The commute that normally takes under 30 minutes lasted a full hour and 45 minutes thanks mostly to snow stupor syndrome*.  I have a definition at the bottom of the post for those of you that are unfamiliar with this horrible disorder although I suspect a great majority of my readers may have observed something similar.  Lance arrived shortly after 9:30 am for the hearing and muttered his apologies, faulting the excessive traffic for his tardiness.  I expect to arrive well ahead of the attorney in any given situation, so I wasn’t surprised in the least.  Actually, I had been late myself, arriving about 10 after 9.

I have to say that the USICE office here in Minnesota is a downright depressing place to be.  You first begin to feel the woe when you enter the hallway to be inspected before you’re allowed into the bowels of this immigration hell.  The uniformed officials are cleverly disguised agents of evil that fix you with a potent glare and demand to see your hearing letter.  I send my own potent glower at the head agent respond coolly that I am HERE for my HUSBAND, daring him to make an issue of my presence.  I’m surprised they haven’t posted a sign in the room that says Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here.  What else could our broken immigration system be if not one of the Nine Circles of Hell created by the same people whose souls will be condemned to Eighth Circle?

Interpersonal Relationships

Dear readers, I have to admit I’m a little apprehensive of what the future holds for us.  Above and beyond the legal and immigration issues, I’m experiencing a whole different type of anxiety I hadn’t anticipated.  How am I going to make the transition back to an intimate relationship with my husband?  Will I acclimate to his snoring easily or will I want to smother him with a pillow after the first few nights?  I also remember him being a cover hog and a restless sleeper when over tired.  I know it shouldn’t be an issue but I’m still the same weight as I was after Ashley was born.  It makes me uncomfortable knowing that although I haven’t gotten any worse, I definitely have not gotten any better.  Alberto says that how we look outside doesn’t matter because it’s what we have in our hearts that makes us truly beautiful, which is utterly amazing coming from him because he has never talked like that before. 

To be truthful he has never been one to declare his feelings verbally, so you could say I went through most of our relationship guessing how he felt.  I can count on my fingers and toes the number of times I can remember him saying “Te amo” before he left for Mexico and still have digits to spare!  Alberto is the reason I always said ‘Mexican men are emotionally constipated’ which I usually follow up with some quip about how alcohol is a natural laxative for this affliction.  The only time I can remember Alberto committing a spontaneous PDA was when he’d been drinking and grabbed my posterior in front of his brother.  Considering I had just saved him from getting carted off to jail for being a moron, it was the least of my worries. This time he has spent in jail has been good for him because he’s learning to express what he would never say before.

Life goes on

I have begun to realize as the days and weeks march on just how much Alberto means to me. As I compose this post, I am desperately fighting off a rising level of anxiety caused by my inability to talk with my husband. Part of me understands that I am being irrational as my mind fabricates a list of cockamamie reasons why he is not answering his phone. My rational side insists that I should know by now that the cellular service in Mexico is sporadic at best with many dead zones and frequent outages. My irrational side responds that someone could have stolen Alberto’s cell phone again, there could have been an attempted kidnapping where he lost his cell phone, or that a roving brand of miscreants asked Alberto for a ride then abandoned him miles from any towns in the desert. I’m nothing if not creative when anxious.

Setting aside that train of thought, I am so glad that Monday is over. The only problem is that tomorrow happens to be a Tuesday. Just a few weeks ago during a particularly bad Tuesday I said, “It’s Tuesday; the mechanical, electrical, mental, financial, and emotional epic fail day.” I’m sincerely hoping that Murphy’s Law takes pity on me for a few weeks and gives me some peace. This is simply not a good month for the systematic meltdown of law and order.