I Will Arise and Go to Thedas

I am overwhelmed and frustrated. I want the immigration process to be over, so badly. I feel like my strength to deal with all of this is just completely sapped. 

I don’t want to dig back into my old life in South Dakota to get documents proving that my husband and I are ‘legitimately’ married. 

I hate that we’re automatically suspect because we don’t have children. That that makes our marriage somehow less real. I hate that his working away from home is another strike against us, makes us look as if we don’t love each other and want to be together more than anything. 

I want to send them transcripts of our text messages, recordings of our conversations, fucking little bottles of my lonely frustrated tears, and remind them that I didn’t nuke the economy, and neither did my husband, we’re just cleaning up the fucking mess. That life in this here goddamned America isn’t a prize, it’s just the less shitty of two shitty choices that were open to us. I hate that we have to prove our intentions, that I have to pick open a lot of very fresh scabs that make me feel like an absolute and utter failure in absolutely every facet of doing life.

I hate that I know that this process would be approximately a million times more difficult if I didn’t have the immense privilege of education and whiteness that I have. 

I hate that as fuckawful as this is, it’s still a privilege that is not open to lgbtq couples. 

I feel like I’m caught in a Kafkaesque bureaucratic perpetual absurdity machine.