Entreaty for Chores

I need something to do. I must have something to do before I go insane. Our wedding anniversary is coming up fast with Christmas only a few days afterwards. I emailed Molly and Lance begging for some assignments that I could complete to begin the update of our I601 waiver.

Ashley is finally recovering from a bout with strep throat, for which I am eternally grateful. She woke me up a few nights ago with a fever of 105.6° which prompted me to take her to see the doctor first thing in the morning. The fast strep test results were almost instantaneous, but I still had to wait for my mom to come home from her half day at work so I could pick up her antibiotics. I really didn't think the people shopping at Target would appreciate someone bring their sick and contagious child into the store, even if it was to pick up the medicine. I would have done it if there were no other option, but thankfully it has never come to that.

Denied the Rainbow

It's so difficult to continue living when what you want most is only just beyond your reach. Naturally I am talking about my afternoon craving for skittles and the demonic vending machine that refused to dispense them after gleefully accepting my dollar. My afternoon without skittles was horrifically long and devoid of sweetness. It is cruel and unusual punishment to be denied the rainbow when you are a sugar fiend like me.

I've just completed what may be the most pant-shittingly terrifying thing I’ve done in recent history. I officially dropped health insurance coverage through the non-profit I work for to take advantage of ACA (aka Obamacare). I will save over $400 a month on premiums and will have a yearend savings of approximately $5000. The only thought I had while I was reviewing the numbers before purchasing my policy was, if only Alberto were home that money could go towards the purchase of a newer car. I dream endlessly of owning a new car; a vehicle that only I have driven daily and the history of which is not the great unknown. I’m tired of my Volkswagen, even though I do have to admit it has held up well despite all the abuse and neglect it receives from me. That fact does not make me hate Hans any less. Hans is my Volkswagen; it’s only fitting that I would give it a German name and a name that is associated with the villain of one of my favorite action films - Die Hard.

The doctor is… IN

The answer to life, the universe, and everything is apparently ‘more drugs’. I finally got in to see my psychiatrist, who will now be known as Dr. Lucy, on Tuesday and she said we should try adding Zoloft to the Wellbutrin XL. The ultimate goal of this is to bring my anxiety back down to a manageable level. Apparently it’s not normal to feel like you’re choking 99% percent of the time. She also said that adding Zoloft might help with my sleeping problems, because not sleeping is a problem, since my body treated Celexa as a depressant. It was helpful in that I was able to live through the pain those first 9 months after Alberto left, but utterly useless because I became a Celexa zombie – a walking, talking, barely functioning nightmare.

Dr. Lucy is also of the opinion that I need something to do, even if that is simply preparing for the worst case scenario. She says that for someone like me, being stuck in limbo with nothing to work towards is a comparable form of torture to the rack. I need work to do, a plan to make, a goal to achieve so I feel like I’m doing something positive. Whatever I do to keep busy has to be something that will occupy my mind whether I’m actively thinking about it or not. It would also be best if my goal were not exclusively linked to the worst possible outcome. Dr. Lucy suggested I make a list of tasks that would need to be complete in order to facilitate an international move, and another list of issues to solve that would make my life easier here in the US. Then I could compare the lists, find something that overlaps, and work towards solving that issue. 

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.

CISOMB gracefully backs out

The title of this post says it all doesn’t it?


To: Deza

I heard back from Senator Franken’s Office. They informed me that they have been in touch with the California Service Center (CSC), and the CSC is currently working on locating your husband’s file to address it. As I mentioned in our phone call, when two government offices duplicate a request to CSC it may only cause delays rather than expedite a resolution. Since Senator Franken’s office has already initiated a request to CSC on your behalf, our office will close your inquiry. However, if you find that at some point in the future you need our help, we will be happy to reopen your inquiry and see how we can assist you.

I wish you the best of luck as you work to resolve your husband’s case. Many thanks,
Lara

Surviving with only Half a Heart

At first I wasn't going to talk about the last few days we were in Mexico or the pure misery of going to the airport the morning we left, but I realize now that I need to talk.  I need to mourn the loss of the physical connection that I so desperately need, and in order to mourn I need to feel once again.  Living for a week completely numb to the pain and horrible sense of loss was necessary to my survival.  I will live my life one day at a time, knowing that I can begin setting money aside with the hope that I can see my love again for Christmas.

Open Petition

I know that my story is sad, but our situation is by no means the worst.  Please consider, dear readers, signing this petition to bring attention to those living in exile to keep their family together.  The families are suffering from lack of proper medical care, the children are receiving inadequate education, and the places they live in are often not safe.

I don't want to join the ranks of the hundreds of expatirates that went before me.  I don't want my daughter to suffer in an unstable and unsafe environment.  I don't want to make a choice between buying food and seeing a doctor or my child's education.

Please sign and share this petition:  Bring Home American Families in Exile

We're counting on everyone.  Please help us.  Action for Family Unity


Ciao

Open Enrollment

Today I received paperwork to enroll Ashley in Kindergarten.  I was excited, then sad, and now I'm just a mess.  I'm just so angry and depressed that I want to hide in my room for the next week and a half.  Alberto has missed out on every single milestone in the life of our daughter; her first smile, haircut, tooth, steps, day of preschool...  EVERY.  SINGLE.  MILESTONE.  Now I get to enroll her in kindergarten, alone, as I have been every other time something big has happened.  So today I feel bitter, and no quantity of sugar-coated Hallmark sympathy cards from Wal-Mart is going to change that.

Cloud 9 3/4

Today is the first day this month that I feel optimistic.  Even reflecting on the awfulness of ‘shitstorm Tuesday’ doesn’t bring me down from my perch on cloud nine.  It all started with an email… from Diana.

From: Diana

To: Deza

Hi Deza,

I received notice from our liaison today that the file was sent to the National Visa Center this week.  It usually takes 2-3 weeks for the NVC to receive the file and load it into their system.  I will follow up next week with the NVC and keep you posted.

Thanks,

Diana

That three sentence email made up for everything that’s happened in the last 2 months.  I feel hopeful again for the first time in a long time, and I’ll be praying every night that I can finally bring my husband home.  Please please please…

“In all things it is better to hope than to despair.”

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Ciao

Interview with the Devil’s Advocate

Yesterday I emailed Lance and Molly to see where the interview would be.  Molly told me to wait for them on the third floor when I arrive, but to try not to be there too early.  Easy for you to say since I cannot arrive anywhere less than 15 minutes early.  I was hoping that my morning errands would help to keep me grounded until the interview.

I had a fitness consultation in the morning at the local gym; she promised she wouldn’t go easy.  I was not looking forward to being tortured by a personal trainer chick that is ridiculously peppy, half my size, and frigging cute as a button.  I’m sure you’re all seen the type of fitness fanatic I’m talking about here.  I got about halfway through the consultation when an employee from the kids’ corner comes downstairs with my daughter who was visibly upset.  Ashley had an accident because no one took her to the potty.  The chick tells me she was in the kids’ corner all by herself and couldn’t take Ashley to the bathroom.  Ok, so how did you manage to bring her to me?  Well she’s the only kid I had up there to watch.  I was livid.  My almost 4 year old daughter is upset because she pissed her pants, and the accident occurred because you wouldn’t take her to the bathroom?!  I had to shut down the anger and quickly because last time I became upset at the gym, my supervisor heard about it the very next morning.  We took the rest of the consult upstairs to a private training room so that I could finish up since Ashley couldn’t go back to kids’ corner.  The personal trainer (who even has a cute name: Julia) could tell I was upset but chose to say nothing about it.  We finished up and I stalked out of the building with Ashley in tow.

Castle in the Air

Our Thursday night visit was all of three minutes long because two idiots decided to get into a fight on Alberto’s block.  He was talking to Ashley when she handed me the phone.  He said that they were going into lockdown because of a fight, but that I should stick around to see if we could finish our visit.  I told the guard and he told me I should leave.  According to the guard we’d already concluded our visit and there were too many people still waiting.  Understandably this put me in a nasty mood since this was one of those days I really wanted to talk to my husband.  He did call me later that night but I didn’t have any credit on my phone to answer the call.

This morning was simply a continuance of my fool mood.  Work did nothing to dispel the funk I was mired in; in fact for a while it actually made things worse.  I have little patience for people that constantly ignore the rules and just do whatever they want instead.  This is not the way the world works. 

I digress, there I was just bopping along living the dream* when all of a sudden the floor disappeared from beneath my feet.  I feel like I’m going to just jump out of my skin.  After another inquiry by Senator Franken’s office, the interview has been scheduled.  I jumped out of my chair and danced around I was so happy to have a date set! 

Now here I am, sitting at the computer awake as dawn approaches.  I thought I was stressed out before, but I fear the worst is yet to come.

“In times of stress, be bold and valiant.”

-      Horace (roman poet, 65bc – 8bc)

Ciao

At The Crossroads

Oh joy!  Monday has never been my favorite day of the week, but I appreciate it even less when I have to get out of bed earlier than usual.  Ashley is not a pleasant person in the morning much like her magnificent mother, but at least I don’t take a swing at people for waking me up.  We had our 9th immigration hearing this morning which explains the extraordinary mood that descended on me this am.  I suppose there are worse things I could have had to do that would force me out of bed at the butt crack of dawn, but that way of thinking is too rational for me right now.  Anyway, after the obligatory tears and punches were thrown by my sweet daughter I was able to get her ready for school in record time.  There still was a slight argument over whether or not children are able to wear sandals with socks, the answer is a resounding no by the way, and in the end I had to practically sit on Ashley to get her shoes on.  I think the reason she hates shoes so much is they are almost too small for her.  I hope to be able to buy her new shoes on Friday when I get paid again, but whether that is possible or not remains to be seen.  Ashley has been eating everything on her plate and then some lately which is a sure sign of an approaching growth spurt.  I’m not looking forward to that because that means I need to go out and buy her more clothes that I can’t afford.  Thank God it’s garage sale season!

I pulled into the parking lot of the non-descript government building that houses the 8th circle of hell almost feeling optimistic.  It’s strange that after so many hearings I can feel something besides resentment and anger during my journey.  Maybe it is the anticipation at being able to see my best friend face to face after so many days without the privilege that improves my mood, although I truly believe it shouldn’t be a privilege to look my husband in the eye when I’m talking with him.  Once again the miniscule waiting room is packed with the family of the detained so I move into the visiting room to sit on the little stools available in there.  There is only one attorney in the room when I arrive so the chances are good we’ll get in sooner rather than later.  Shortly after Graciela arrives we got kicked out of the visiting room so we went to stand in the hallway, by this time it’s 9 am.  In the hallway we see another attorney from Lance’s office and we learn that Lance himself will also be here shortly for a hearing.  Graciela told me that Lance had a new client he was here to represent today and that he didn’t want to make her give them the bad news.  Apparently the young man had been very busy during his adult life which resulted in 50 or so incidents on his criminal record.

Weasel War Dance

Good Lord did I really just attend the eighth Immigration Hearing?  I know we’re coming to the end of this nightmare, but sometimes it’s hard for me to comprehend what we’re going through and what has been lost.  Alberto has been detained by USICE for 149 days as of today, but he’s been in jail for a grand total of 331 days.  That means in just over a month he will have been in jail for a year.  Ashley has had her father nearby for almost an entire year.  Maybe in a way this is yet another blessing in disguise since it has given Ashley a chance to get to know her father.  God willing Alberto will be able to come home before too much longer.

I arrived before Graciela as usual and waited for her in the ‘room of many torments’ found within the bowels of USICE hell.  This was yet another visit where I passed through security without much commentary on behalf of the guards, although I noticed the return of their self-important smirks.  I swear they only asked me for my appointment letter because there was someone who came in the door right behind me.  I stated that I was here, yet again, for my husband’s immigration hearing and passed through the metal detector without issue.  I mumbled on the way out that I would be seeing them next month.  I attribute my defeatist attitude to sleep deprivation; luckily these moods rarely last for very long.  Graciela was the last attorney to arrive, so I anticipated that we would not get in until sometime after 10.  This is why I always bring a book.

A Miracle

I expected Monday to be an awful day.  I expected to buy a one-way plane ticket from my best friend and experience that loss all over again.  I expected to turn in his suitcase to some smirking immigration agent.  I expected to have another bad episode triggered by what I was told was likely to happen.  There was no way on heaven or earth that we could have anticipated what was going to take place.

Alberto called me just as I was leaving Ashley’s Preschool, which was odd as he should have been in route to the USICE holding area for his court appearance by that time.  He said that the guys had come at 5 am like usual, but they told him that he didn’t have court today so he didn’t get to go.  Naturally he was a little upset, thinking that we received yet another continuance, but I told him I’d do what I could to get to the bottom of it.  I asked Alberto to call me back in 30 minutes so I could call Lance to see if he knew what was going on.  I went straight to USICE and stared down the guards blocking my entrance.  I held back my snappy retort through the sheer force of my will, but I don’t know that I would be that strong if I have to come back again.  I swear they must enjoy playing the fool since there is no good reason to spend my days in a building full of irritating and often dense immigration officials just because I want to.  The largest guard actually pawed through my purse this time; must be because of the ‘shanks’ I carry to help while away the hours.  Lance calls my circular knitting needles my ‘shanks and ligature’ even though the steel barreled pen in my purse is a more formidable weapon in my eyes.

Delay of Game

I know I didn’t write anything right after the hearing on Thursday and some people may be wondering what had happened.  It was one hell of a long day let me tell you.  I was up by 5:45 am to shower and get dressed since I was anticipating a fight of epic proportions from Ashley just to get her out of bed.  It didn’t go so bad actually so we go out of the house earlier than I expected.  The hearing was scheduled for 9 am, but Lance had asked me to get there by 8:30 am because the Pro Bono attorney would try to get her hearings done first unless I held the spot.  I was in Bloomington by 7:15 am, so I figured breakfast was in order.  I went to Denny’s and read my Kindle for a while.  I was still at the USCIS/ICE office before 8:30, but at least I wasn’t the only one there.

Lance arrived close to 9 am and the judge walked through the waiting room shortly afterwards.  The Judge grunted, “Which one of you is the pro bono attorney today?”  I watched as all the other attorneys avoided eye contact while looking through their files or checked their phones for emails.  Lance seemed bewildered and asked, “Wasn’t Amy supposed to be the Pro Bono today?”  Apparently Amy had a conflict on her calendar and wasn’t able to keep her obligation to the immigration court and now 25 people were without representation.  Lance glanced at the docket thoughtfully, and then called his wife.  He asked her when she was going to be done across the street because he needed help, and she said she would come as soon as she was finished.  Lance went to the window and asked for the paperwork on the Pro Bono cases to start reviewing who he could get done quickly without assistance since he didn’t speak much Spanish.  He rushed a few people through hearings before our hearing before the Judge.

We were brought into the courtroom the last hearing was held in a month ago, and the proceedings began.  The Judge obviously didn’t know what was going on with Alberto’s case, and the government attorney was as clueless as I’d assumed.  He was a mousey looking man, almost like Drew Carey prior to the weight loss only not as good looking.  The judge wanted clarification so the hearing was taken off the record and Lance began to explain why they couldn’t deport my husband.  He explained how Alberto was brought into the country for criminal proceedings, and how he must be allowed a reasonable amount of time to depart on his dime after the parole is terminated.  Alberto was not afforded this opportunity so the government had violated his rights.  Lance went on to explain that we still do not know what type of parole granted so we are unable to determine if Alberto is eligible for relief or if we should terminate proceedings to return him to Mexico without a final order of deportation.  The government attorney jumped in at that point, stating that we should go ahead with the termination of the proceedings and earned a sigh from Lance.  You see, the government attorney was unable to determine what kind of parole Alberto was granted to enter the US, and he was unable to locate the rulings that outlined Alberto’s rights as an immigrant.  We heard him muttering a steady stream of ‘what the hell’ as he was desperately searching for the documentation.  The solution was another continuance because the Judge refused to spend 30 minutes on a single immigration hearing, with admonition that the attorneys submit their motions prior to the hearing so that the Judge could have a decision ready.  Lance politely agreed to the continuance, which was scheduled for the 23rd of January.

No Brain Required

So here we are yet again, held captive with no other choice but to wait and see.  Have I mentioned before how much I hate the whole ‘wait and see’ philosophy of life?  The attorney representing the government has shown us that they are incapable of thinking logically.  Lance requested a copy of the parole documentation on Alberto in order to prepare our petition for relief which we need to bring to the hearing.  I guess the difference in what type of parole was granted will determine if Alberto can adjust status here, or if he will have to return to Mexico first.  The government attorney told Lance that he would provide the document for him at the hearing Thursday.  Lance countered with the fact that we are expected to identify the type of relief we are seeking, which we cannot prepare for if we don’t know which type of parole Alberto was given.  I wonder what it would be like to work somewhere where the application states, ‘Brain preferred but not required’.  I’ll admit my opinion of government employees is at an all-time low, but if you read the news I’m sure you understand how that opinion was formed.

There is something that I want more than anything in the world right now, that I would give anything to be able to do.  I want to pick up the phone and call my husband just to hear his voice.  It doesn’t matter that we usually don’t have much to talk about or that I visit him 3 times a week now, I want to call him and hear his voice.  I want to talk to him about everything and nothing.  I want him to be here, suffering through this by my side.  I want to wash his clothes and complain about the condition of his socks; I just bought these last week how did you already get holes in them?!  I want to annoy him with my rampant disorganization that comes when I decide to clean everything all at once.  I want to go to Taqueria Los Ocampos and make him order for me because the girl at the counter looks at me funny.  I want a lazy Sunday spent watching an action movie, followed by whatever comedy I picked out.  I want to be awake at 2 in the morning; not because I can’t sleep, but because my husband has been talking for 3 hours and there is no end in sight.  I want everything I took for granted while Alberto was here with me.  I want Ashley to run to her Papí to ask him after I already said no, even though that would probably irritate the ever living crap out of me.  I will take whatever I can get.

One day at a time

I often wonder what I would be like today if my world hadn’t crumbled from beneath my feet.  Would I be a nicer person, maybe more patient and understanding of the people that are around me?  Would I have sympathy for some of the people who currently make me angry when they whine about how they hate their job and no one appreciates them?  I’m sorry if your glorious career at Subway doesn’t satisfy you, but if you don’t get off your ass and do something about it nothing will ever change.  I often wonder if we would’ve been happy, but in reality there is no point in wondering.  I am who I am today because of the pain I survived yesterday.  I had no choice but to survive and to tell myself that everything will be ok.  I have to believe that everything will be ok just so I can get out of bed in the morning.  I need to stand tall and be strong for all of us.

I feel old and cantankerous today.  There is no one thing that set me off, just a string of small nothings that merged into a big something.  Christmas is the season of hope, love, and family whereas I feel like I’m missing all of the above.  Alberto always was the center of my world since about 6 months into our relationship when I realized that I loved him.  This month marks the 4th anniversary of our marriage.  I don’t know how I managed to forget about our anniversary last week but I suspect it has something to do with the fact I have never been able to celebrate with Alberto.  There was never a celebration when we get married; it was a secret only because I was too devastated to share with anyone.  I think people found out I was pregnant before they discovered I was now a Mendez.  Maybe I regret not including my family or my in-laws in the affair, but maybe it was for the best.  Someday we’ll have a party and only God knows where it will take place.

Wait... What?!

Ok, so today I’m a little upset, although I believe that I am entitled this time around.  I emailed Lance yesterday to see what his thoughts were about the outcome of the hearing and this is what I get back from him:  “I will review the charging document.   The question I am trying to resolve is whether he can apply for residency here at all, regardless of whether the court or USCIS has the power to do it.”  Wait a minute, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

I guess I’m waiting, albeit impatiently at this point, to see what will happen next.  I really hate immigration policy.

Ciao

(I'll update as I get more information...)

Weightless

An amazing thing happened to me on Wednesday morning.  It all started my alarm went off as usual at the ghastly hour of 6 o’clock in the morning.  I got up, walked a few steps to my alarm, hit the snooze, and dived back under the covers.  As I settled back into my warm bed, a strange sensation came over me.  My mind was calm, my thoughts were clear, and I felt as light as a feather.  The immense weight on my shoulders that had been my constant companion these last 4 years was gone.  So, this is what it felt like before my world came crashing down around me?  It’s amazing the ability we have to adapt to our surroundings and adjust our expectations accordingly.

Alberto called me last night to talk about what will happen next.  I told him I had sent an email out to Lance to find out when we will be engaging immigration yet again, although I suspect it will not be until after the sentencing in November.  I also let him know that Brian had stated that he didn’t believe that Alberto would be serving the full 240 days.  Most people only serve about 2/3 of their actual sentence, which means Alberto could be out as soon as the day of the sentencing hearing.  If you do the math, 2/3 of the 240 days is only 160 days.  As of today 155 days have passed since his arrest at the border, and if you add the three days he had in custody from the original arrest, Alberto has served a total of 158 days to date, which means he ‘could’ be released on Friday.  However, since he has not been formally sentenced Alberto will remain in custody until that time.  At least that is my understanding of the legalities.

I could really use a wish right now…

So on Tuesday morning I received an email from the attorney that the Judge rescheduled our court date.  We’ve been pushed back a week because the prosecutor is mired in a murder trial right now that they expect to spill over into next week.  It was a relief really because now we have more time to prepare for the trial, meaning more time for Brian to get his shit together.  The witness interviews took place on Tuesday evening at 5 pm, though they did not go as I had expected.  David, my brother-in-law, asked me to be there for the interviews so that ‘esos güeys’ would actually show up for the interviews.  So I emailed Brian to let him know I would be there which prompted him to cancel the interpreter since I could provide the service for him.  I said that I wasn’t really comfortable with this and stated why, to which he responded “I just need a mouth piece.”  Seriously Brian, what the hell? 

The interviews went well and the witnesses are in sync with one another without having the same story (which would be the case if they were lying).  Alberto on the other hand, will not be allowed to testify during the trial because his story is too different from what the 3 amigos had to say.  I chalk this up to someone telling Alberto a couple of times how they think everything happened until he believed that’s what he witnessed; it’s actually an interrogation tactic that is proven to coerce false confessions from innocent people.  Alberto is very susceptible to suggestion and he can have a difficult time remembering facts which were pointed out during his psychologist evaluation that was required before his first visa appointment because he had an arrest record.  The psychologist asked him for dates and details of his arrests that Alberto doesn’t remember, so the psychologist asked if he should mark Alberto down as a retraso mental.  Alberto said that the psychologist was joking, and apparently he guy was very nice and actually friendly.