An account of being deported

Maybe this isn’t the time to write this post. Maybe the emotions are still too raw.

Maybe I’m still too in the thick of things.

 

But today, I’m being deported.

 

Not for anything exciting, mind. I was denied entry to Scotland because I didn’t realize I needed a visa to be of service. As part of my stay here, I was hoping to see friends at a holistic retreat–which entailed mild volunteering in exchange for a place to stay. Apparently I needed a special expensive visa for that. Apparently, that was enough reason to bar me from the country. Because of my intent. Because even though I can say I won’t volunteer, the fact that I intended to is a death knell.

 

I’m trying to count my blessings. I was able to stay in the country for a day. I was able to see a few friends, visit the retreat. I’ve had a great deal of emotional support from friends and family near and far. For that, for all of that love, I am grateful.

But it would be insincere to deny the negative emotions.

* The anger and shame of being treated like a criminal when all I wanted was to give my time to a place I love.

* The frustration of an airline (US Air) that is beyond incompetent. Yesterday, I was told they were flying me back to my point of departure–LaGuardia–even though my journey began in Seattle. I argued this. They said their hands were tied. So I bought a ticket from LaGuardia to my home in Iowa. Today, I learned they booked me through to Seattle. They can’t give me any paperwork to show their mistake. And since I’m being deported, any complaints I have against them won’t have any sway. So that’s another $300 I pissed away. The $1100 for the tickets apparently wasn’t enough. I am a writer. I am broke as fuck. This is big money when you can’t even afford health insurance.

* The fear of not knowing where I’m going to live or what I’m going to do for the next few weeks. My room has been subleased through late July. I have nothing on my itinerary and no clue what to do with myself now

Most importantly, though, is the sadness of having my home taken away.

I try to lean on the teachings of Pema Chodron, that now is the time to soften to the experience, to lean into the pain and find comfort there. And it hurts. It hurts like hell. I’ve been looking forward to this for the last six months. I’ve worked my ass off so I might have a chance to rest, to give back and give to myself. Instead, it feels like it’s all being taken away. It feels like all that work and suffering has been for nothing, and now it’s back to the grind. No vacation, Alex–you don’t deserve one. No rest.

I try to lean into this, to not shy away. This is the opportunity to open up to uncertainty and stop planning and let life provide. To let go, not know. All things pass. Stop expecting things of life and people and get out of this pattern.

I’m hoping this is the last curve ball for a while.

I need to rest.

 

I really need a vacation.