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Emotional Overload

As a control freak, I've realized how much of this world is out of my grasp. Trying to get a handle on every aspect of life is not as easy as dribbling a basketball. Even through countless repetitions, whether it's breathing exercises or right hand pounds, I'm still subject to mishandling a situation. A turnover. Forced or unforced, the ramifications can be as small as a lost possession or as malignant as a lost game.

That first paragraph sat in my drafts for a couple days, struggling to put how I'm feeling down a paper. I wouldn't call it writer's block, more like an emotional overload that makes me want to lay down and start a new day. Not cause the day was bad or an adverse event happened, but to hit the restart button like on a computer. A system reboot to refresh the nerves, eyes, and the brain.

For some reason, there's a hope that whatever is wrong will be fixed as easily as a computer. Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way. Along with anything worth having or gaining, there is a process to it all. Sometimes, it feels like I'll be stuck in this cyclical mindset forever.

I think part of it is trying to control all aspects, or better yet, looking through the wrong frame. A metaphor used in Michael Todd's message pertaining to the lense that we look at our situations. He explained how we often times negate the big picture and look at things through something as small as a peep hole.

I know it will be a process, something that I have to suck up and fight, like going to the courts. There's a lot of things in this world that we have to do even when we don't want to. One thing I'll never do, is quit.

I'm also feeling overwhelmed at the state of this world, the way people like me are viewed and treated. I read an article earlier of a black man being set free after a wrongful conviction at the age of 13.


The, now free, man speaks on an specific officer and how he was wrongly convicted and questioned multiple times. The man also speaks of how the officer used electrical shocks to get him to confess to a murder which was eventually thrown out until he was framed for the sentence he was carrying out.

13. Electrical shocks.

Does that make your stomach churn? Does it ignite a fire in you? An everlasting furnace burning until change is apparent. We're reliving the era of our fathers, and their fathers, and theirs.

I was speaking to a lady from Zimbabwe and she told me that she didn't learn that the people stolen from Africa came over is such harsh conditions until after she was 20. In fact, there's a lot of teachings telling Africans that the black people of America left them and never came back to the motherland. She also spoke of leaders having to choose between cleaning up the wreckage of a village or sending some of their people with the pigmentless men.

Now, think about it. That means, this system that we are incessantly speaking of and fighting against extends further than the borders of this country. In actuality, it seems like it's the plight of the world to keep black people in bondage literally and metaphorically. A lot of Africa is controlled by foreign countries and they wash culture and history with their influence.

Why are we so hated?

I wish there was an answer beyond our skin color. There has to be more than that, it just seems so shallow. Even the Arabs still are keeping slaves and there's and obvious distaste for my people.

But, why?

An emotional overload when passing by authority with badges and having to question everything about myself as if I did something wrong. Making sure my clothes are straight as if were being inspected, can't walk too slow or too fast or seem too suspicious or too cautious. According to the law, if a cop perceives it this way and couples it with race, it's considered not racist or profiling.

They literally covered every basis so that they could stop and search at will. Recently, I heard of a 15 foot rule or something along those lines, which essentially gives them a right to shoot us. Under the impression of "I feared for my life."

Do you know that Breanna Taylor's boyfriend is being sued by the cop?!?!?!

There's no way only black people are seeing this, why do they hate us?

Why do you hate us?

I wasn't raised to fear the police, and to this day I don't because I know I don't do anything wrong. Where the fear comes in, is knowing that the faces on TV and names scribbled and posters and screamed at protest.

It could be me.

Wrong place wrong time come across an officer who is having a bad day. What if we both having bad days and emotions start flaring, words are exchanged, and next thing I know I'm staring down the barrel of a gun. Whereas I have to run or go to the gym or hoop to workout my frustrations, all the man behind the badge has to do is exercise his finger.

Let's not forget, if a cop is fired, there's nothing stopping him from moving to another district and reapplying. Unlike convicts and people thrown in the system, police officers records do not follow them from district to district. Only the hearsay of their reputation, which I'm convinced, is their application.

Think about that.

I was hated before I was even born. Doubted. Persecuted. Feared.

We don't even know out culture, our ancestors, I have to spit in a tube to find out where my roots are. Doesn't everybody want to know where they come from? Who they grandaddy and his father were. What were they besides slaves or servants, what inventions came from the minds of my bloodline.

Questions to answers we may never know, somewhere along the line we lost the art of storytelling. Or at least, using it as a form of passing down legacies and stories. Maybe, after we learned to read and write we turned to the pen and paper but I wonder what would've happened if we stuck to our origins.

I think about wives tales and old folklores and how they came to fruition. If I think about it too long, I start to feel lost in a time capsule. Unable to be discovered until centuries later, maybe in the future they'll be able put together the pieces that have been scattered across the earth.

I am overloaded emotionally.

Amelia and Amara, daddy loves you.

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