There’s No Place Like Home

Over the past few months (read: since March) my blog has been pretty much a downer. I think it was important for me to share what was happening to me throughout the deportation process, and hopefully it was helpful not just for me to get the story out of my head, but also for others who may be looking for information. And although I won’t be writing about the UKBA and my experiences with them as much (I do still have to hear back from the appeal, but that’s a post for another day), I want to let people know that they are still welcome to get in touch if they are having their own difficulties with the Agency we all love to hate. I may not have the answers you need, but hopefully I can give *some* useful advice at this point. Or at least lend a sympathetic ear.

But on to what I wanted to write about today: Gratitude. Because I’m feeling super grateful these days. Let me ‘splain why.

When I was chucked out of the UK, I had an amazing group of supportive people there. People who opened up their homes when I had to give up my flat. People who took in my stuff when my stuff was too much stuff to stuff on a plane and take with me to Canada. People who offered to write letters, to stage protests, to host charity pubcrawls to raise the money to pay for the lawyer. People who gave all the hugs. People who raged at their own government long after I stopped being rage-y. People who shared my story. People who reached out with their own stories.

And now that I’m back in good ole Canada (even though it’s temporary) I’m grateful again for the people here. For those who were at the airport to greet me and then ate ice cream sandwiches with me. Those who roamed around Vancouver and chatted like it hasn’t been years since the last time I saw them. Those who found a place for me to sleep within a house of young’uns. Those who took me in and then drove me the long drive to my mother’s house.

Then there is my moms.

How grateful am I to her and Harv (who is my awesome stepdad)? I’ve been here for weeks now, boys and girls. Weeks. And last time I checked I was nearly 40 and they’ve had no problem letting me stay like it’s no big deal. And I’m so grateful to them both. For being on my side. For letting me stay without having to worry about my finances. For feeding me all the home-cooked meals I’ve been missing for years now. For providing a safe place where I don’t feel like I’m a burden.

All the grateful.

And you know what? Even though it totally sucks big hairy donkey balls that I didn’t get to stay in the UK, the most important thing isn’t where I am; the important things are the people that I love and the people who love and care about me. And you know what?  The UKBA can’t take that from me.

And for that, I’m grateful.

2 responses to “There’s No Place Like Home

  1. Pingback: Resources: UK Border Agency Stories | The Lion's Opinion

  2. Great Post 🙂

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