Blood in the Streets: Part III, The Children

Why

TheChildrenIt’s been just a few short months since the first two parts of this series were shared. Already, there have been a shocking number of more violent incidents. During that short time, a famous athlete, Mr. Colin Kaepernick has gained national attention for his form of silent protest. Other athletes, soldiers, and even students have followed in his footsteps.

Still it feels like we are no closer to a solution.

What is the solution? Is there a solution?

These are questions that can be heard tossed around on both sides. It’s obvious something needs to be done but not many people seem to have a clue where to begin. Many feel fear of “stirring the pot” so to speak, and my response is simply-perhaps the proverbial pot needs to be stirred.
We need to keep dialoging. We need to be uncomfortable in the conversations and situations in order to come to a positive middle ground. I’ve often feared bringing up these conversations myself; being one of the first ones. Some may say I’m placing a target on my forehead. I’m fully aware that I may be doing just that. This one, however, is personal to me. When my friends and family already have targets on their forehead, I guess I might as well join the bunch.

Vines

There have even been children who have fallen victim to this sort of warped society we’re living in both physically and mentally. As a PTSD sufferer myself, I have suggested to friends that there should be massive group therapies (as well as individual) taking place. These options need to be enacted in order to treat the trauma not only these children, but also adults, are facing.

Trayvon Martin was one of the first names in these modern times to hit home for me. So much so that I felt the need to speak up then too. That could have been my son. That could have been your son. The media and politicians like to spin these as “black issues” that only effect black people. That could not be farther from the truth. This is a human rights issue. The moment atrocities like this occur, it becomes everyone’s issue—whether you like it or not.

Sadly, we need to explain these issues to our children. As a parent of a young, sensitive child I understand how painfully difficult this can be. The weight of having to do such a thing could make us want to avoid the situation all-together. Though their lives could be the price we pay for avoiding these touchy topics.

So let’s continue talking, and moving, and changing, so that perhaps in our not-so-distant future there will no longer be blood in the streets. No more blood from my brother, your brother, sister, father, son, mother, daughter, cousin, lover, friend, or anyone.

Blood in the Streets Series

This series is dedicated to all of the people of color that have supported me both emotionally and professionally not only over these past few years, but through my entire life.

This one is for you Miss Sophia, “Filly” Felicia, Val, Meli, Ashley, Amor, Jess, Jason, O, Viv, Tony, Pam, Curt, Ka, Gloria, Ra, Hahn, and countless others.

I value and appreciate you.

Moments of Silence

It must have been love, but it’s over now.” – Roxette

Sometimes an overflowing of hate can make a person like me shut completely down. The shards from words that cut can fly through the room. When you’re not looking, sometimes those airborne pieces of glass can pierce straight into the heart.

You may notice it got quiet. You may not.

The Burning Bridge
The Burning Bridge

What happens when even the people who fight for good are tired and weary?

This is no terror ground, or place for the rage.” – A Strange Kind of Love by Peter Murphy

My recent break from social media left a few of my friends questioning if I was alright. (Don’t worry, I’ll be back by Friday morning. I know a few days in *internet time* adds to about a year or something in reality.) I had to unplug for my sanity.

With all of the racial tensions, gun debates, political arguing, and just good ol’ fashioned hate going on, my brain simply shut down. I’ve been through this before.

Example 1: In the Cold Light of Day

Example 2: Not Tomorrow

(Not forgetting the countless other incidents before those.)

I’m tired.

I’m weary.

I’m sick of people being ugly to each other.

Perhaps when I return, I’ll be refreshed. Or perhaps, this will summon someone.

Some—

thing.

 

Like a House of Cards…

Last night I cracked my head on the floor.

It was the first panic attack I’ve had in over ten years. 

Maybe it was in light of recent events. Perhaps it was a whole host of mess that’s been building up for a while. 

All I know is I have to write this here & now to get it out of me and into my safe place here. 

I’ve been planning on sharing over at Stories about PTSD, since I had never spoken in-depth about it before. The little bit I have shared though, has helped people along the way.

I got a phonecall a few days back from my sister who lives many states away. The voice on the other end was desperate.

She wanted to move back up here to her original home, but I’d have some convincing to do on her behalf with some family members.

She’s been abusing drugs and engaging the kind of behavior where she could end up dead.

Her erratic/nervous tone over the phone had me sensing this wasn’t going to go right.

She sounded just like my mother at a certain point in time and it frightened me. It also took some of my old wounds and yanked them right back open. 

The worst part was another family member’s reaction. It hurt them. Deeply. I think this is what put me over the edge.

Needless to say no one feels comfortable bringing her up here. Though we still want to help her someway/somehow. 

She just has to truly want the help.

Before I could talk to family members, she posted some drug-infused rant on her Facebook page saying most of her family with the exception of me never cared about her. She went on & on. Of course people saw it. I’ve always told her watch what she blabs out there on the internet.

Now, I can’t hold back.

This may seem insensitive and selfish.

Until I cracked my head on the kitchen floor from the weight of it all. 

I started hyperventilating out of nowhere for about five seconds, my vision blacked out, and I went down like a load of bricks.

When I came to 

my name was being called & I was being asked what happened.

My son and his father had seen me go down quickly, but it was one of those things you couldn’t stop. 

My legs were shaking. I was shocked and embarrassed. I started sobbing hysterically like a two year old.

I was a blubbering mess. 

My son was concerned. “Mom did you slip? Are you okay? You hit your head really hard.”

I’m okay now.

Aside from my tail bone, elbow, ankle, and head hurting like hell.

But what do you do? When your anxiety that you thought was dealt with, comes back and bites you in the ass this hard

I think its time to go back to therapy.

I’m not going to let this knock me down.

I’ve got way too many great things to share with you this 2016.