Trying to solve anything document related at the moment is like going through hell. Nobody answers phone calls during their working hours. Well, let’s say the working hours they are usually working at. What does that mean?
You are an office. You have operating hours during which people can reach you on the phone. People still need documents. Pandemic here or there. We need those papers to live somewhere together.
Trying to get appointments and documents from two different countries on two different continents is simply impossible. My daily nightmare. How on earth am I supposed to do. Especially now.
Some offices only operate from home. So, I send them emails to get answers. They forget to attach the attachment. Great work. Doesn’t help me any further. Because they send one email and go into winter sleep. No further replies.
The other one is only available via phone. But whenever you call the voice mail starts talking to you. Regardless of the fact you are calling during the time the voice mail says they would be in the office.
Thanks for the conversation. It was lovely talking to you.
And the worst is we are dependent on those offices. We need their papers. We need their services. Despite the fact of being married we can’t live together in either country if they don’t help us getting the required documents. (Yes, there is more required for living in the partner’s country aside from a marriage certificate, believe it or not.)
Am I losing it? Yes, I am. My patience has vanished. After four years of living in a fight with paper stacks of copies, certified copies, and original documents of your mother’s favorite color I am done with it.
This is stressful. On me. On my relationship. On my family.
And all I want is just live in peace. Somewhere. Preferably together with my husband.
That’s funny, right. I think this counts as fiction.
I am sorry. I usually don’t write things like that. I try to focus on the positive in life and embrace nature’s beauty in order to stay calm and relaxed. But not today. I had to write this down.
Or someone would have gotten a snappy answer by mail or on the phone and I would never receive the documents I so desperately need.
Maybe I need to start doing yoga. Or some sort of meditation. Something that prevents me from losing it. Or maybe I’ll just go and run a marathon. I’m sure I have enough energy for it. Actually, I have enough energy to run an ultra marathon.
Then there’s my husband walking through the door.
You need this?
Handing me a fidget spinner. I almost threw it at his face. Almost. I took it and span it. Yeah, maybe that’s what I need. But that fidget spinner might take off to the moon if I touch it one more time. That’s how fast I spin it.
Take a deep breath. In. And out.
Did you get any answers?
My husband is looking at me while taking the toy out of my hand.
Give me back the fidget spinner. Right now!
Don’t ask me stupid questions.
Yes, it has something relaxing in it. The way it spins. It takes your anger away. With every rotation it does. Maybe that is what they were invented for? Fidget spinners. To calm our nerves.
Thank you for staying with me. My loyal reader. Thank you for going with me through all of this. I feel much better now. I just had to write it down.
Do you know this feeling? The feeling of almost exploding? And then you realize you are a writer and writing calms your mind. So you start to write it all down.
You can see your healing. From the beginning of the story where you want to add swear words in every sentence to the end where you start to apologize for being so loud. On paper.
That is why I love writing. Too. Not only for this reason. But also for it. I am thankful for having this passion. Writing does heal me. And so many others too.
I can remember a day a few years back. I was living in Namibia back then. My sister wasn’t doing very well. But she accused my parents of not raising her well, always favoring me, and many other things. It made me so mad.
I wanted to shout in her face. I wanted to tell her that they always did everything they could for her. I wanted to tell her that I was the abandoned child. Not her.
But instead of any of that, I wrote a letter. To her. I wrote down all my anger. Everything I ever wanted to tell her. I wrote it on that one damn paper. I cried on it too.
But I never send it.
I never send that letter. I felt better afterward. I send my parents each a letter saying how grateful I am for having them as my parents. But I never send the letter to my sister. I kept it though.
The process of writing down. Writing all the anger I felt onto paper. It felt so good. But at the same time, I knew I wasn’t allowed to send that letter. It wasn’t right. She was in a healing process. I had to accept that.
And so I kept that letter.
While writing this article I didn’t receive any documents needed. But I eventually got through on the phone. I got through to a human. I received some information via mail. I got a step further.
It might be a tiny step. But I do not give up that quickly. We will get our papers. And one day, one day we will be able to live happily together. Without worrying about visa and other paper issues.
There is hope.
I have hope.
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