It’s not a writer’s block, so much as a writer’s blockade. I have tons of ideas, about so many things, I just can’t get to them until I get past this. Being an immigrant. How can I say anything unless I stop for a minute to talk about it? It doesn’t feel honest not to mention what a huge impact the struggles of being an immigrant have had on me for the previous few months.

I got my work permit. I am legal to work as a massage therapist and herbalist in Germany. It’s as if the ground shifted under my feet, a weight was lifted from my shoulders, the world around me became brighter and sparklier. I feel such empathy for all the migrants of the world, of all the ages. It’s hard. I am so aware of my privilege, that I am migrating under the best circumstances possible. And it’s still hard. When I try to unravel all the threads, to try to figure out how to communicate it all, it seems more like a book than a blog post. I don’t want to write a book about it, though. So let me just say this: When you encounter an immigrant of any kind, please know that being an immigrant is very, very hard and be kind.

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