Drained.


This was a hard week.

I had big plans for 2020 as well but now it’s dealing with the emotional toll attached to this week and the weeks since the video of Ahmaud Arbery’s death was released. I had my break down moments. I had my moments of wondering how do I even start to broach this subject with my 5 year old son. So I baked for therapy. I’m not a person to go out there and take action. I ain’t trying to get arrested or anything. I’ll support it financially or some other way, but I’m in a country over 3000 miles away from my family, I’m not trying to put my family through that, even more so, my kids.

I spoke to my husband about moving back home. If you know me, you know that’s a lot. Not indefinitely but to have a mental break from it all. We’ve been fortunate where we live. The racially based encounters I’ve had were just being followed around in a store. Nothing new for us right? Otherwise, nothing. I always hold this fear when my husband is driving alone, most of the time, I’m on edge when he calls me while he’s out. Especially after events like last weekend… I sit on edge when he leaves. Luckily right now, we’re all home.

But my silence on these topics is not because I turn a blind eye to them. I have the conversations, I see the posts. I may like a post. But to put words down to say something, I become overwhelmed. The level of anxiety I begin to feel, the emotions that just come flowing, because my husband could be George Floyd tomorrow. The anxiety I have when I watch my very social son and let him know that we can’t just walk up to people and be friendly because not everyone is like that or has the same intentions as you.

I decided to do a post because something on Instagram or Twitter encourages conversations that I’m not mentally ready to be dragged into because someone wants to play Devil’s advocate without acknowledging the mental toll I’m already dealing with. Sometimes sharing your thoughts is all you want to do.

I’m not African American, but I’m black, and to some extent, where we live, that’s been a tiny blessing for me. When my accent is heard, I get a different response. When I go to a store, I’m always cautious of how I hold my phone or put it in my bag because you never know who is watching you and just waiting to accuse you of something. This is not a way to live just because of the color of my skin. Don’t even begin to talk about how pets have more sympathy and are more important that the lives of POC. That outrage for Amy Cooper was more for her dog than a whole human that she almost had killed by police… because that’s where we have to go now when a black person and police are mentioned together.

This is not an easy topic. I have friends (non- POC) I can talk to about it openly and others that not a word is said, yet, I have no doubt that if anything ever happened to us, they’d be there for us in a heartbeat. Sometimes, I don’t even know how to take that. I feel like I’m rambling at this point, and that’s just where I’ve been most of this week. So here are a few articles that sum up my feelings this week:

With my scanning, I learned about the ACLU app to record Police Conduct. It can’t hurt to keep it on your phone.

Final thoughts…

Stay safe x

One thought on “Drained.

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