Moving to America “the biggest struggle of my life”

So we’re trying to move back to America right?My husband to-be is born there, but I’m German, born and raised. We’ve been living in Germany for 3 1/2 years now. It is GREAT, SO GREAT. But in all honesty as good as it sounds, it’s also not as good as it sounds. We had wonderful times with rainbows and unicorns but also times we have seriously and absolutely hated. The later unfortunately has been overshadowing the good for a while now, like big time. For months now, it has been getting worse for us. Even before the pandemic started, problems started to appear and got bigger and bigger. I quit my job right when it all started. At that point we had a plan, that I would quit my job one month before we would leave for the US. It was a good plan, even exceptional if you ask me. We wanted to get married the Christmas before, and then get my visa. But there were problems with the wedding, and the city, because my fiancé isn’t a German citizen. Then it got even more complicated, with different official papers, that we would’ve had to get from Italy or America. It was a fucking clusterfuck. And it ended up not working out at that time.

When the pandemic started our apartment lease was legally noted to end ended. So we were supposed to move out at the end of April. But this disease, that is so aggressive, especially to at-risk patients, like my fiancé, will easily kill. He has a full ass spreadsheet of problems, that need medications or treatments or attention. He currently is giving 8 different meds, from 2 different doctors. Which keep him in a good space, keep severe seizures at bay, push the panic attacks down, and make the thousand-yards stare not as frequent and make sure the darkness from his PTSD won’t overpower and swallow him. It’s a hard time for him. But also for me, I’m basically a caretaker for him, which I really don’t mind, or see as a big deal or problem. I make sure he takes his medicine correctly, make sure that he doesn’t forget his appointments. And the biggest and most important one are his seizures. I have to time them, and if their longer then 5 minutes, I’ll have to call the ambulance. I have to make sure, there’s nothing that could strangle him, like necklaces or his clothes. I have to make sure that during his seizures, he won’t hurt himself, by bitting or swallowing his tongue. Or that there’s no furniture, that’s too close to him, so he could hit himself on it.

His epilepsy is the one, of the two biggest problems, we have to deal with every day, besides the daily life struggles. Every day I have to make sure, he takes his medicine at the right time, with or without food depending on what pill it is. Then we have to make sure, that our other daily tasks are taking care of. Like the dishes, the laundry, making sure that I get the refills of his medicine at the right day, you getting the drill right? And then on top of that for fucks sake, we have a legal battle about our apartment! Where our landlords are basically trying to evict us, even though my fiancé qualifies as a case of hardship. But hey, does anyone besides us, our lawyer, and the judge believe this shit? Nope, of course they don’t believe us, and make living here extremely hard, with as much shit thrown at us, as physically possible.

And then of course please, don’t forget about us trying to get married, and getting a visa for me, so I can come with him, and not be a sad Charli Brown in Germany. The marriage part is practical figured out. We have to go to the Italian embassy, get some paperwork signed, and that’s it. Easy peasy, except we have to get the Italian passport renewed. So another appointment, to get that shit done, and beg them to be quick as hell, and make it all happen in 4 weeks, because that’s when we have another appointment, at the clerks office in our city, for the marriage application. So we have to get a passport, and a letter that says, my husband to-be is legally allowed to get married (what the actual fuck is that law? They should be ashamed if you ask me) in 4 weeks time from a embassy, that’s not only as slow as a sloth, but also refuses to speak any other language then their own.

I’m so not anxious, or panicking, or scared, or anything right now. I’m as calm as a motherfucking cucumber right now man. That’s what I’m telling myself every morning, when I wake up. It doesn’t work, or do anything, but it’s a ritual I adapted.

So that’s the beginning of Us trying to move back to America, where our family lives, where we went to start a new life, where we want to get a support dog, where I want to get my psychology degree, and where we want to start a family with a real life baby. Scary times are ahead my friend.

Also how do you keep a baby alive again? Just asking for a friend of course. I totally know what to do obviously. Like could that even be a question?!?

Anyway see you later alligator-

-in a while crocodile! When I have answers, or news,or something cool to say.

Bye bitches!!!

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