I am… So tired. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. Any way you can think of. I’m tired. I’m tired because my people are dying. No. I’m tired because my people are being systematically murdered and, in relation to the entire population of the United States, so few people seem to give a damn.
I’m also tired because my mind and my body are at war. It’s like there’s always this seething rage simmering beneath the surface. Sometimes it breaks through, other times it just simmers. Then there’s the constant anticipation. Just always on edge, waiting for another report of another shooting and another death. The anxiety of wondering if the next hashtag will be you, your parent, your sibling, your partner, your friend, or your child. The sadness upon inevitability hearing about the next death. It’s all of this, all the time, all at once.
Dealing with all of that takes a toll. There’s a tension that’s constantly there, but you don’t realize it is until you’re somehow able to let go. The energy devoted to holding all those emotions in check just so you can get through the day-to-day means you have little energy to do much else. You can’t hold it all in forever so cracks inevitably form in the damn that’s holding back the tide of emotion. Those cracks allow small bits of emotion to seep through. Random bouts of crying or flashes of anger or irritation become common. The stress of it all just means that physically your body starts slowly wearing down on you. All of it is just… so much.
It’s too much really. Too much for one person to deal with alone. So I don’t. I’m lucky, I have a therapist I can lean on. I have medication that keeps my emotions somewhat level and the anxiety down. A lot of people don’t have that. Can’t afford it.
I don’t know what else there is to say. I don’t think I can say anything more. So I won’t.