Fugitive?

Posted on August 8th, 2026

Crazy how that's all my journal entry looks like for someone who, at some point, felt like they knew how to journal and brain dump away on pages and pages.
My head is still running and going, yet that's all that's able to come out.
Maybe it's the typing. Maybe it's Maybeline. I like typing without even looking at the screen, so maybe that is what's helping.

I was on our morning walk with Mister King Koopa and that is the sentence that just kept going through my head. I am 37 years old, 17 years clean-in a row, and
that's all, folks.
lmao
Maybe that's why I haven't been able to write anything for a while. It doesn't matter. Life be life-ing no matter what. No matter age, experience, beliefs, whatever.

Let's go down memory lane, shall we?

Picture this, Sicily Alabama, 2009. Sweet, rageful, 20 year old baby Gwendolyne, back then known as Wendy, is just getting clean from all mind-altering, mood-changing chemicals (except for caffeine and nicotine, of course!). I wasn't a happy camper towards life, but it was the first time in my life I felt heard, seen, cared for, loved. I went to twelve step fellowship meetings everyday, did a loooooot of all kinds of writing and for all reasons, I brain dumped- soul dumped on them pages. Just word vomit. I met so many people and learned so many things, things that regular kids learn. (I'll get into my childhood shit another day- maybe) I learned to have fun.
I definitely wasn't planning on staying clean for a long time, just a fun time. I just wanted a break from consequences. (I'll probably get into that trauma another day- maybe. lmao)

Anyway, "we didn't get clean to not have fun" were someone's words I've never forgotten. I guess relatively important words for someone in their early 20s. Well... in a capitalistic world, unlimited fun, sometimes requires money, and to make money you need a job. And that is when the reality of my life started to hit. Hard.

A few years prior, I was 14-ish, I come home from school and my mother says she is not renewing my visa. Sweet, little me, didn't know what that meant- truly, deeply. I figured after high school, I'd go to college and everything would resolve itself out. Well, I find myself at 21, with a year clean, unable to get work because of this visa... paperwork... immigration or whatever-tf-you-want-to-call-it situation

So, I start calling attorneys in the area. (This is Montgomery, Alabama, btw. lol) Funny story, every single person who answered the phone and talked to me had no answers. No solutions. Except to get married. That was it. Then finally, this "attorney", (His name is Ben Bruner. Any witches out there, please put a curse on him for me, please. My agnostic side is too heavy for my witchy-wanna-be-self to be successful) said he could help me. We met, filled out paperwork, I paid him. Not once, not twice. I paid him over and over and over again for year and a half, maybe two years. Until one day, I grew a pair and called the USCIS to figure out why nothing was happening.

Y'all. I was not in the system. This dude. Scammed me.

Look. I worked (and paid taxes for the ignorants in the back.) I did all sorts of gigs (except that, you perv.) Cleaned houses, babysat, oldsat, did random catering, petsat, housesat, even had a friend help me get a job at a bowling alley- I was there for a couple of years until he retired and I got obviously fired because.. you know... I wasn't supposed to be working... LMAO. For a while I had my own place and then I didn't and just couch hopped- again. My path was filled with people who helped me, trusted me and loved me.

I meeeeeeaannn... it was, also, filled with people who weren't fans. Like this one lady tried to talk the people who were helping me into getting me to just go into a homeless shelter because I was "irresponsable" and needed to "get my shit together". Takes me out for coffee to tell me this. LMAO!

Anyway, I'm not getting into the good ol southern trauma on this entry.

Where was I?

Oh, yes. So, all this limbo is happening, and I end up in Virginia, found an attorney, paid her just once this time, haha, and a few months later, I have DACA- a work permit. I believe I was 25 years old at the time. I got a driver's license, moved to Nashville, had several part time jobs before landing a full time one because "one is never enough" and I felt I was playing catch up. I got a car that someone trusted me enough to co-sign for me. I even made it to massage therapy school.
And then when the DACA was close to expiring (they expire every two years, btw), everything seemed to start to slow down- I was in the middle of school, work started to clash and I ended up losing it, which led to getting kicked out of my room I was renting... (to be fair, I feel like IF I would have been more humble, communicative and less defensive, those roommates wouldn't have kicked me out that night on the way back from the concert. Like an old high school friend had gotten tickets for... I forgot his name.. G- EASY! that's it. She had gotten them months prior-the weather was still cold when she did. And the deal was that she was going to stay the weekend with me and we were going to do the concert and then, the next day some color thing marathon type of thing. I don't remember, but man, life in Nashville was always fun. I don't remember it much because of depression and trauma, but the bits and pieces I DO remember-so so fun. Anyway, fast forward to the few days before this concert, I have no job, I'm trying out Postmates for the few days left my work permit has, rent is due and I have no monies, and instead of being like "hey. I know this looks bad af. The timing is awful, and I'm sorry, but this friend and I had this weekend planned for MONTHS, it's already paid, and I swear I'm not trying to fuck you over" and whatever whatever... y'all. I end up not even saying not even half of that. I just told them that a friend is staying the weekend and we have plans and that was it and ugh. My scorpio sun was def scorpio-ing a lot back then. LMAO. cringy), So, anyway, all that left me back to couch hopping while finishing school and waiting for the DACA renewal because it came late af that year. A couple of months. That's when I started to notice that yeah, the work permit was great, I was SO grateful, but once that expiration date came, EVERYTHING expired and I couldn't work nor drive any longer, until that renewed card came in.

That renewal fiasco happened almost every time.

In 2020 or 2021, I tried to get ahead of the game. I got my insurance adjusting license, got introduced to the good ol contractor 1099 side of things, and I got paid enough the first couple of years that the renewal that time worked out. I got to even experience buying a house (which is a trap- don't do it. I went broke af because of it. lmao), and then sell it, because ooof. Then got a fifth-wheel and traded in my Rav4 for a sexy ass 2020 Ram 3500 named Penelope. Oh, how I miss her. I was planning on just working and traveling with Mister King Koopa, but once I hit Alburquerque, NM, I fell in love, and after getting him his own yard again, I wanted to just grow old there.

And then the 2024 elections happened, and after knowing they had already a couple of concetration camps ready months before it, I had never felt more terrified.
I had no faith I was going to be able to get by like any other year.
I had no faith my dog would end up being okay if anything happened to me. 1- because he came with me to work when I had to be in the field. 2- he's reactive af and men sketch him out. There is just no way.
He may be just a dog, but he took his first breath with me, I hope I'm the one he ends up taking his last breath with, too.

So, well, I looked up options to leave, the meaning of leaving everything I know and knowing I won't be able to go back. Mexico seemed like it was it. Their websites made it sound like a simple, easy going, straight forward process, I even emailed back and forth with someone from the UNHCR in Mexico and it all sounded great.
Arrive to Mexico, go to the refugee commission, apply/request refugee assistance/fill out paperwork, leave that day with a work permit, wait 45-100 business days to get approved and permanent residency, and in two years, apply for citizenship.
Maaaan. That timeline made my panties drop. You're saying I can be a human being, get any job without stupid issues irrelevant to the actual job, and travel around the world in a matter of months?? And then even more so in a couple of years get citizenship? Sign-me-tf-up!

Kids, don't believe everything you see on the internet. Def not from Latin American countries. LMAO!

After months and months of waiting, I took courses online and learned data analytics. By the year I had done a data analysis on the refugee/asylum process in Mexico. (I'll def do an entry on that by itself with the slides for you) Let's just say, it makes sense why it's been over a year and a half and nothing has happened. SO many people getting fucked over in this system. It's insane.

My whole life has gone back to my early 20s. yikes lol

I even paid an attorney here to "speed things up," he said "I'll send your paperwork to the State of Mexico and in two to three months, you'll get approved and have your permanent residency." And guess what? It's been seven months. Same shit, different country. LMAO! Another scammer. Paid him $1,600 usd. At least I don't have to drop another $1,600 after it's all done, because... it's not happening. lol (BTW-This guy's name is Juan Jesus Lopez Kelly. CURP #LOKJ830213HBCPLN04 // DOB Feb. 13, 1983 // License # BC202551025747, for all you witches out there who would LOVE to do all the curses on this dude. Including but not limited to making his dick rot and fall off slowly and painfully while thinking of me and how he fucked me over. TIA ♥)

I don't know, man. The differences between the first time and this time are crazy. I mean, the similarities are stupid. But the differences...
Call it age, maturity, recovery, maybellene. Who knows.

First, I don't have assholes in my circle nor in proximity, this time. If I did, they've def dropped off. lol
Oh man, my circle... my community.. my tribe.. is everything I ever wanted and dreamed of having, which is what makes this whole thing even more heart breaking.
They haven't let me fall this whole time.. and it's been a long fucking time. I mean, their way out has never been easier. Gnome sayin'?
My anxious attachment hasn't been as bad. The culture here is different af, and where I'm at, I seem to have been running into more conservatives than not, so, I'm not as desperate to fill the space around me with just ANYONE. Quality over quantity, 100% here. The first time, in my early 20s, it was ALL about quantity and FOMO.
Eh. It makes sense.

Although, 1- I have no faith/trust in the immigration system nor any governmental system whatsoever, 2- there is ICE in Mexico now (YES! there is Mexican ICE here since May 2026, pulling a US ICE- oh the irony. lmao), 3- I'm more stuck than ever in the literal sense... I am not as anxious and batshit crazy as I was back then. I mean, I'm still cray, but.. I was so problematic... I wish I could go and hug 20s me.

Yeah, idk.. Life is.. stressful, yes. Crazy, yes. Chaotic, yes. Terrifying, yes. But I'm SO grateful for the people in my life, the ones who have my back, the ones who make my nervous system stay regulated, the ones who see me, the ones who love me. Specially during the worst time ever, in a whole different country.

That, right there, is the most beautiful thing. And I guess it's genuine, too, because it makes all the craziness from the first time look like a joke.

Anyway, this could be longer, but I want to keep playing with the layout, since you know... the new Myspace is another ai/data trap. *Allegedly* Don't do it. lol


Did you really read all that?
♥Gwen