6 Unexpected Mental Health Challenges I Went Through While Getting a Green Card
By: Bee Martinez
Getting a Green Card is financially draining and legally complicated. Have you thought of how it can also affect someone’s mental health?
Content warning: immigration, marriage, and depression
I was born and raised in the border town of Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. Before I was born, my parents lived in many different cities. We moved twice when I was a kid. When I moved out to live with my partner, my entire life fit in seven boxes. Moving always seemed normal to me, but nothing prepared me for the big move.
After living with my husband, a naturalized US Citizen, in Mexico for over 5 years, we moved to Laredo, TX. I applied for a Green Card through an Adjustment of Residency (AoR). The AoR is financially draining, legally complicated, and emotionally hard. If you want to learn more about the process, check out this account of getting a Green Card by Helen V. Holmes.
I’m happy with my choices. I know good things take time to happen. People don’t openly talk about their experiences with acquiring a Green Card. It’s such a stressful process, and you don’t want to risk anything. As someone who deals with mental health issues, the stress is further amplified. I’m sharing my story because I want to validate my experiences, and hopefully, validate the millions of untold stories.
The Extra Pressures of Marriage
The well-meaning arguments to move to the US began shortly after we got married. The first was for our safety; Nuevo Laredo has become increasingly violent over the last 12 years. My husband’s daily commute to work to Laredo, TX, on the other side of the border, was a 20-mile drive that took between 45–120 minutes. The commute costed over $100/month. I also wanted to move to the US because I wanted to have a more rewarding and higher-earning career in Education.
Moving adds a lot of pressure to a marriage. There’s the usual stress of starting a new life together, finding new jobs, paying off debts, dealing with sickness, and paying for unpredictable expenses like a car breaking down. On top of that, you have to frequently explain to your loved ones why you’re dropping everything (including thousands of dollars) to chase the American Dream.
You are constantly compared to other couples and made to feel worth less than them. Your aspirations, goals, and plans as a couple are seen as naïve, far-fetched, and unattainable.
You can’t just drop everything and move without having to deal with people around you. It’s overwhelming.
Uncertainty Galore
Uncertainty, stage one, begins ages before the AoR process even starts. Is moving to America what’s best for us? Can we keep up with our lifestyle and save for the future? When are we going to move? What is the most convenient way to do it? Are we even ready?
Uncertainty, stage two, is waiting for bureaucracies to do their jobs. This includes getting birth certificates, IRS tax returns, setting up appointments with the people handling your case, with the doctor, to get lab work done and also vaccinated. I had to get X-Rays of my chest due to my TB test coming back positive because of my previous vaccine. Then it’s sending everything to the Immigration office in a sealed package full of forms and translations. You become an expert on patiently waiting for updates through snail mail.
Uncertainty, stage three, is asking yourself, Am I going to get a job? When can I go back to work? Is our combined income going to be enough?
And then, the ultimate uncertainty factor: the interview.
The interview is practically the last step, usually in another city, where you are meant to prove that you are who you say you are, that your partner is who they say they are, and that your relationship/marriage is real. I’ve been with my husband for over a decade, and I was worried. I didn’t know what to expect. Waiting for this appointment to arrive, preparing for it — pictures, timelines, copies of everything you sent plus originals, travel arrangements — is one of the most nerve-racking things I have ever done.
It’s like hitting the reset button on being an adult. Fortunately, things have a way of working out. I was able to get a job! Our combined income is tight, but with small sacrifices, it’s enough. The interview was awful, but we passed it. I’m still recovering from it all, but I’m grateful that we persevered.
Feeling Guilty For Everything
After relocating to the US, I felt guilty because we still had bills to pay in Mexico and without me working, we were earning less. I felt guilty because I left my job in Mexico after getting a raise and promotion. I felt guilty because we had to move in with my in-laws, and it felt like we were intruding and not being helpful.
It was embarrassing for me to propose a gift swap for Christmas because we couldn’t afford to buy more than a couple of presents.
Even celebrating my birthday made me feel guilty. Maybe if I were living in Mexico, people wouldn’t have made such a huge effort for me to have a good time that day.
I don’t come from a wealthy family, and that has taught me to be careful with my money. Now that I’m able to afford more things, my guilt is reversed. The money I use for one week’s worth of groceries could probably cover the monthly costs of my mother’s tiny house or help one of my nephews with school.
When you’re wrought with guilt, you forget to notice your surroundings. Even though I felt like I was huge burden on my loved ones, they supported me no matter what. I was welcomed with warm arms by my in-laws. Christmas was different from previous years, it was fun because we got to focus more on each other.
Your loved ones are always there for you, but they are not mind readers. It’s important to be able to reach out for help. There’s nothing wrong with it. Wouldn’t you want them to reach out if they’re in trouble? They are likely to be pleased you’ve thought of them and to help you out.
Lack of Happiness and Motivation
The immense guilt of being a burden to my loved ones caused me to enjoy life less. I placed limits on the things I enjoyed. I rationed snacks. I didn’t want to buy anything that wasn’t on my grocery list. I didn’t want to indulge in any kind of shopping.
I didn’t even want to spend time with my dogs, who as a result of living where we lived, were outside 24/7. It made me sad to leave them outside all the time and not give them the attention they needed.
Even though it was hard for me to stay happy and motivated, I pushed myself to try something new. I love to learn new things. I started taking code classes through Skillcrush. I did a remote internship at Bossed Up. I became an open source contributor for if me, a project that combines my passions for mental health, technology, and community organizing. In fact, I started this Medium publication and I got to translate the app to Spanish!
My mind didn’t feel as sharp when it came to learning new skills. I felt disappointed in myself for not being as productive as I wanted to be. It’s still a struggle for me to find a balance between self-care and productivity.
I want to have more self-control, but it’s hard to when your mental health surprises you with different situations. I compensate by over-controlling what and how much I eat. However, I now make it a point of eating a full breakfast instead of just sipping coffee for long hours. I don’t indulge in anything but Netflix, but I will accept a little something extra if coupons are involved. I allow myself to take breaks when needed, and then commit when I feel better, which is usually after walking my dogs.
Loneliness and Isolation
I’m the youngest child of five siblings. They were already teenagers when I was born. They started having their own kids when I was 10. I have always been in the middle-middle. Too young to get along on an adult-level with my siblings, but too old to play with my nephews and nieces.
Since we’ve moved to America, I’ve only seen my mother six times, and that’s twice as much as I have seen all of my siblings combined. My closest brother says I’m growing further apart from them as time goes by. We’re losing common ground, and we’re both too tired and busy to build a bridge. I wonder what my other siblings think. Things will never be perfect, so I’m trying to make my peace with it.
Making and keeping friends is not a natural ability of mine. I get along with people, but I am not a social person. I don’t keep in touch with anyone from my old life. I haven’t made a friend at my new job. I don’t fit in. I eat lunch alone. I think my co-workers are rude and cold and don’t like what they do. I still make an effort to be polite despite feeling alienated.
It’s really beautiful to think about how learning to code helped me feel less alienated. It’s a real community even though it’s online. Twitter and Slack are my salvation! It’s easier for me socialize in online than it is in person. Most people in these communities genuinely love what they do, and it’s incredibly inspiring. It motivates me to work on the things I’m passionate about. It makes me feel like I’m part of something meaningful.
Mixed Up Identities
I changed my name in the United States when I got married. My birth name is too long and complicated to explain. Taking my husband’s last name also reinforces my Latinx identity. Plus, most people know how to pronounce and spell Martinez, which is not something I could’ve ever said about Lavín. My original last name came with many expectations from people who knew about my family. I’m free of that now.
I left a good career. In Mexico, I was one of the four of 100 students who complete a master’s degree. I had a good shot of getting a PhD, which only happens for one of 100 students. I had a decent income considering the field I was in.
Now, I have to get my degrees evaluated and prove to a supposed country of limitless opportunities that I am qualified in my field. Start a career from zero in other words. What am I worth now? Do I even want to stay in the same field? Is it practical?
What if I’m a different person with this new name? It’s an opportunity to re-invent myself, but what if I fail again? After all, I’m still me: a poor, asocial, misfit person whose talents lead to nowhere.
I know I shouldn’t think this way about myself, but it’s an easy trap to fall into when everything is stressful. In America, I am a minority and I am reminded of that every day. I fought hard to get here, but now I’m fighting to stay here and prove to myself and others that I belong. I recognize that I have so much to offer to this country, and I want to keep fighting.
I’m still in a border town, I’m still in the middle-middle, and I try to not forget that.
In the end, my case was approved and I’m eligible for citizenship in three years. Starting again to start again later. It’s not moving, but change, that is a part of life.
