When Will It End?

As I sit and write this , I am angry. Angry that young ( and old) Black men are targeted so often by law enforcement. I just had a long conversation with a cousin of mine about her son being victimized by  State Troopers recently. He was handcuffed and beaten by 1, while the other 2 just watched, as he pleaded for them to intervene. Then he was loaded into the back of a car, as if he were being transported to jail, only to be dropped off in the middle of nowhere and told to find his way home. This is a young man, away from home for the very first time. He is at college , on a football scholarship. But, because of the vicious beating he took, his hands are injured and there is no way of telling if he will ever be able to return to football.

Last week my teens were horrified to see a friend of theirs since elementary school on the news. He had been shot by Police. They felt threatened by his Brown skin and hoodie.

Back in March, another young man,this a friend and  neighbor of my nephews, named Stephon Clark was gunned down in his Grandparent’s backyard. Where he lived with them. He had lost his keys so he was knocking on his Grandfather’s window to be let in, something he did quite often. A neighbor had called 911 a few minutes prior because he heard someone breaking car windows. Officers believed Clark was the one doing it. So, they fired 20 bullets at him. Hitting him 8 times, 6 of those 8 bullets hit him in the back.

I could write for days and sadly, not run out of names of innocents gunned down by law enforcement with no justification. Let’s not forget the story that has us all questioning how a Dallas officer could safely drive home, unlock the door to her building and correctly work the elevator, gain entrance into an apartment that was not hers, shoot and kill the rightful resident of that apartment, Botham Jean, and be portrayed as a confused victim. One whose story has changed multiple times already.

Enough is enough. The racial injustice in our country has grown significantly since our country became the butt of international disdain and many a joke. The man elected as President of the United States has made it sickeningly convenient to let your racist colors fly with no worry of recrimination. At least from those who should be protecting the rest of us. Citizens are taking it into their own hands and using the power of the internet to find and out those who think they can mistreat Black or Brown people just for the hell of it and get away with it. Sure, it feels like a small win when one of those creeps loses their job for their racist shenanigans, but , that doesn’t stop them. It doesn’t change their hate filled heart. If anything , it makes them, in this writers opinion, even more dangerous.

I am tired. I am mad. And, I am a whole lot afraid. I have 5 Black sons, I have many Black nephews and cousins, I have a Black brother. And, Black grandsons. I want all those beautiful Black men and boys to not be killed simply because the color of their skin scares some or inspires hate in others. I want them to be able to fulfill their dreams. To see change, real change come about in their lifetime. To be a part of that change. They cannot fulfill that destiny with targets on their backs.

I don’t have any answers. I don’t know the way to “fix”this. I am just a Mom, who spends her nights sleepless and in prayer, that I don’t get that world destroying call about another Black man or boy that I know.

Honey, I’m home

I never planned to be away from this space for this long. I got caught up in the chaos and commotion of life and kinda lost my way back. I miss writing. I miss the therapy of getting everything out. It’s time to come home.

My life is a lot different than it was last time I posted. So, I’m not 100% certain the direction we will end up taking. I am going to just let the writing guide me.

If you stuck around, welcome back. If you didn’t, you will never know I’m writing this. 😉

Sadppy

A few months ago, the day after the latest Grand was born The Boy found his way into HUGE trouble that, unfortunately, brought him to the attention of law enforcement. I had to make the very hard decision to take him to meet with officers. They determined he would face charges and took him into custody. Let me tell you, I moved heaven and earth to get him released back into my custody. He was in there 3 days and decompensated and regressed so severely that their officers were keeping me posted by phone hourly. The very first day he met with his attorney she told me she had doubts regarding his competency and if he even understood what he had done wrong. I agreed with her. They suspended going forward until he could be seen by a psychiatrist of their choosing. That took 3 months. During that time he was on GPS locator and had to be with me unless he was in therapy or school. When I tell you this has been the most challenging 3 months, I am putting it mildly. Fast forward to finally seeing their Dr and waiting a month to find out his determination. We had court yesterday. We found out that he is not competent to assist in his own defense. That means something that the DA now has to decide if they want to dismiss altogether or have him do ‘competency training” as a diversion to future incidents. The problem is that they have no programs geared to his level of competency. WTF? The juvenile court system, sadly, comes in contact with kids of varying abilities all the time. But, he is an anomaly. They don’t know what will work for him. While I am happy to know this ordeal is almost over, I am so very sad to know my Boy really doesn’t understand why what he did was wrong. I am sad because all these years we have been trying to get him to be accountable for his actions and we find out, he can’t. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to. He fucking can’t! And that honestly breaks my stupid heart.

Write Time For a Change

Sometimes, when certain feelings hit, I write.

Sometimes, when those feelings hit, what I write is uncensored and raw, full of profanity and overflowing with emotion. It is the real story of who I am in that moment and how I became the person I am today. Sometimes I share what I write here or on my personal Facebook page, because it might be funny, have merit to someone other than myself or because I just don’t give a fuck anymore.

More often than not, I type it up in Word and delete it or save it to my computer. More pieces make it in those 2 places than they do here or FB. They might ramble to and fro, with no real meaning  or simply, not for the faint of heart.

I live the majority of my life with the shades drawn. I introvert and keep to myself only sharing  bits and pieces.In censoring myself, I am not protecting anyone, all I am doing is being untrue to myself. To the experience. The whole point of this blog was to share my story, in case someone else out there was living the same story. They would know they weren’t alone. I thought I was for years. That is no way for any one to feel. I have a story to tell. It won’t be for everyone. I think it is time for me to open the shades and stop hiding. To be true to the process and , damn the consequences. Well maybe not that far, but more than just an occasional peek. Somewhere out there their is an ex-cosmetologist,chef,lunch lady, preschool teacher with 5 kids, a survivor of horrific violence and  who lives with chronic pain just waiting for someone like me to come along and say, ” look, here I am. I am all of those things too. We are not alone.”

Not ready for this yet

Kept The Boy(man-child #2) home to take him to the Dr and as we walked outside in the cold I made a statement about hurrying back home when it was done to get back to where it is warm. His therapist, who picked us up for the appointment, reminded me he is 18 and I didn’t have to go. TBMC2 got a little too happy and had a huge grin on his face while telling me he could handle this on his own and that I should stay home. So, I stayed home and he left with his therapist to go see the Doc. I woohoo’ed and made a speech about coming in and playing the Sims now that my morning had freed up, and then I came upstairs, sat on my bed and cried. I am not ready to let him go. All the trials and tribulations of single motherhood, with the added bonus of Autism don’t change the fact that the little baby I could hold in my hand at birth is a six and a half foot adult.

Excuse me while I deal with this new batch of eye sweat.

President Obama Addresses Nation About Decision 2016 — Black America Web

 

I won’t lie. I’m terrified of a Trump presidency. He mocks those with differing ability’s, he is a xenophobe and a hate monger. The fact that this country elected him, shows just how screwed up we really are.

https://www.facebook.com/plugins/video.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2FWhiteHouse%2Fvideos%2F10154915247674238%2F&show_text=0&width=560

President Obama addressed the country about the latest election results and how to move forward as a country. Watch the live feed below. [ione_media_gallery id=”571260″ overlay=”true”] Like BlackAmericaWeb.com on Facebook. Follow us on Twitter.

via President Obama Addresses Nation About Decision 2016 — Black America Web

Ouch

“Chronic pain is often defined as any pain lasting more than 12 weeks. Whereas acute pain is a normal sensation that alerts us to possible injury, chronic pain is very different. Chronic pain persists—often for months or even longer.” (Chronic Pain: Symptoms, Diagnosis, & Treatment, 2011)

Living with chronic pain takes a toll on a person. Not just a physical toll, but emotionally and spiritually. It changes who you are on such a radical level that it becomes difficult to relate the person you are now versus the person you were before chronic pain. Since pain signals can remain active in our nervous system for months or years, and because there is such a variance in intensity and length the emotional toll can sometimes feel more burdensome than the physical pain.

If you know or love someone who lives with chronic pain, be patient with them. As inconvenient as their chronic pain is for you, it is a million times more cumbersome for them. They carry that burden daily, minute by minute. It becomes the focus of their very existence. Pain is subjective so what is mild to me may be excruciating for you. What is an inconvenience to you may totally incapacitate me. It plays havoc on your body in so many ways, causing fatigue, compromised sleep patterns, a weakened immune system, psychological issues like depression, stress, fear and an overwhelming feeling of help and hopelessness. It can cause total disability coupled with a need to rest more often, which may cause one to become withdrawn. Be patient. Be kind. Treat them with love. Trust me, if they had a choice they would not choose to live with chronic pain, but the choice is out of their hands. Even with pain interventions, pain management, physical therapy and life style changes those pesky pain receptors constantly stay turned up to high.

Works Cited

Chronic Pain: Symptoms, Diagnosis, & Treatment. (2011). Retrieved June 14, 2016, from National Library of Medicine: https://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/magazine/issues/spring11/articles/spring11pg5-6.html

 

Say Goodbye To My Little Friend

Back at the beginning of May I had a laparoscopic cholecystectomy. In simple terms, gall bladder removal surgery. I was so happy to know the pain would be gone that surgery didn’t even scare me. Just get this rotten thing out of me! After a long hospital stay (read sorta, kinda vacation) I was excited to know they could yank this sucker out and send me home all in the same morning.

What I wasn’t prepared for was after surgery. I thought I would be back to normal within a few days and back to eating like a fat ass soon after that. Ha! Fooled me. I couldn’t sit up without help the first few days. In a drug addled haze I made a comment to my older sister, who had all 3 of her boys by C-section that I knew what she had gone through after each one. I believe she is directly responsible for my recovery taking longer. She refused to help me up after that. I lay there like a fucking turtle on my shell, flailing around trying to get up before my bladder just said ‘screw it’. She just stood there and smiled evilly. At one point she told the kids, “let’s go get Starbucks, she should be up by the time we get back.” WTF Bro?! At least prop me up so I have a fighting chance. I did learn during that time that my sister has a mean streak a mile long. Heifer!

After GB removal they don’t give you printed directions. Like ‘don’t eat this, don’t drink this, unless you want your butt to break do not even think about eating this’. They tell you to Google GB diet. Guess what? If you Google it you get links to forums full of horror stories. And sprinkled throughout you have that one guy who had no issues. He got out of the hospital, ate a 72 oz T-Bone, 2 fully loaded baked potatoes, veggies covered in a cheese sauce and drank 2 milkshakes to wash down his triple scoop banana split and had zero issues. LIAR! His butt erupted like Mt. Freaking Vesuvius. The first month if I even thought about meat, diary, bread, fruit or vegetables I spent the next few hours in the bathroom, crying for an end to the madness. I drank broth when I got hungry. Just broth. And I drank water. When I went in for a follow up my regular MD hit me in the head with some papers and told me to eat something for crying out loud. I told her if I did I would be crying out, loud. She said go get some ensure. So I went to Wally world and got milk chocolate flavored ensure. First of all, that shit is gritty. And chalky. Like drinking liquid chalk, but not chocolate flavored chalk. Chalk flavored chalk.  I figured maybe I just need to drink it over ice or freezing cold. Nope. Cold chalk. BLERGH! Nasty shit. That is exactly what that bullshit gave me. I think I actually died on the toilet twice. The stench emanating from around me revived me. And killed me again. Never a-damn-gain.

People kept calling asking how I was feeling. I always said ‘better’. I didn’t want to say, “I am shaky from starvation and moody because my stomach is eating itself and even that is making me sick.” So I stuck with better. It has been 2 months since my surgery. I still can’t eat 95% of what I used to eat. I miss bacon. Gawd how I miss bacon. I still drink my broth, instead of eating, most days because what I ate yesterday may be on the ‘hell no ‘list today. I keep getting invited to BBQ’s or out to eat. I wanna be like listen up asshole, is this your idea of a joke? Cus it ain’t fucking funny, you dick. I am hungry Damon! So hungry. And on top of it I ain’t losing any weight. So I am hungry and still fat as hell. Not fucking fair. I want to have a reason for being round as a beach ball.
Hmmm, I think I will go add this word for word to one of those what to eat after GB removal forums. It is about time someone exposed this shit for what it is. A conspiracy to make the toilet paper companies filthy, stinking rich!

 

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