Immigrant liberties and locks….

Immigration is so simple to some people. However, there is so much heart break and brokenness with the process.

immiAcclimatizing to a place you have no rights to is very draining. There is no history in a land you may have never even visited before. There is no security in a place you need because you cannot go back home. Wreckage surrounds your life and glooms leers at your soul for as long as you are unstable. I always say that only the bravest people immigrate and not break. You have to have heart and guts to lift your life up on your shoulders and carry it for months, years before you find some peace. People can complicate the process for you and they just might bless your situation. I don’t know of a bigger thing in my life than fighting every single day to feel at home in a country where I was not born. As much as I do not feel safe at times being home, that is the place that connects to my core. When I visit, I can relax, I am calm; everything is familiar. Everything is sweet and natural. The living is temporary but the relief is lasting and enough. The relationships you form in foreign lands are so forged and fickle. You’re forced to co-exist with sworn enemies and your one commonality makes you forgive your biases. The relationships are fleeting though and even your own people disappoint. There isn’t a certainty as to how far you can go with people here because you do not know them. You do not know their story, history, you did not grow up together or know anyone that knows each other. You take only what they give you and return less or the same, never quite knowing who’s who or what. It’s a conveyor belt of mannequin faces in and out of your life daily. No one breaks the order as it’s a basic be cordial and exist type of deal. You don’t even feel relevant but you all know this is your place now and you have to make due. My favorite thing to reminisce on is my change of life. In my home country I can be wild and prolific. In this country you keep your head down and work hard. When you throw having a family in the circle, you become a cycle of a Untitledwork-sleep-work-sleep, survival pattern. There is no neighbor to beg a cup of sugar because you’ve probably never met them. There is no family ‘yard’ to bank on for even family visits are limited and ‘hosted’. Life is difficult by tenfold is you are undocumented. This experience is enough to break the strongest man and reduce him to a fledgling beggar. Feeling unconquered with every action. Living becomes a treasure map of constantly selecting the best and safest risky option that allows you to survive but not get deported. The inherent shock, uncertainty and uneasiness mars you for years to come but are lessons that keep you grounded. A karma that isn’t quite explained. There is also the enigma of being grateful to have the opportunity to live in a more advanced, safe country but hating its people. Seeing them as useless, undeserving and unfairly privileged for never having to struggle. Forgiving them only at the thought of your child being as lucky as they are. Alas, the joy of the migrant life comes from what you build and become for yourself. Lacking the traditions of your native society forces you to form your own curve. Forces you to pick what you want from this new culture and shamelessly discard the parts that do nothing but disgust you and shit on your values. It isn’t until you accept your situation and develop a life that is concurrent with your needs and budget, conditions and limitations that you begin to truly live. No longer existing but aggressively acing and progressing. The spark in life comes in letting go of the struggle and feeling winded and embracing the vulgarities you’re thrown. The dust will settle when you boldly and happily face the good, bad and the ugly while providing an acceptable life for those you are responsible for.

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