Writing has been a way for me to cope with life. I write about the good, the bad, the ugly. Shoot, writing a to do list somehow makes life a little simpler.
But when videos of men being shot on corner blocks and in cars in front of their four-year old daughter begin to surface; and weeping widows and sons paint my television screen, all of my words seem to disappear.
Overwhelmed with emotion, all I could muster was a Facebook post addressing my frustration and challenging my fellow posters to use their gifts to promote unity and a text message to my love ones telling them to “stay strong”, “keeping pushing”, and “I love you”. Many appreciative and “you were right on time with this one Monda”, replies came throughout the day. Some thought provoking and loving conversations grew, but none seem to suppress my ache.
Repeatedly, I was challenged by friends and family to write something. “Share your gift”, one said, “your words are flowing”, but I couldn’t write a single thing. Even a simple thank you note was hard to form. My escape was blocked… closed off. Being asked to go to my sacred space filled me with anxiety because I didn’t know what to say. My heart was hurting…and my pen was too heavy to lift.
Like most, I turned to creative memes and comedic videos to distract me from the pain but I was convicted by people condemning bloggers, writers, and other creators for not using their platforms to say something. Were my viewers and followers looking to me ( I’m still getting use to being apart of this writing world) to be their healing balm? Their fighter?
To write when I’m in pain is MUCH easier said than done. I can imagine a lot of bloggers, vloggers, etc. capitalized off of the clicks and repost, but for me writing about the recent tragedies is more than spreading the redundant narrative. It’s more than about gaining popularity. Writing in times where I’m being shown that I should fear living in a place I’ve called home for 26 years is about courage. It’s about pulling myself up and doing what I love even when threats of my safety are becoming more constant. It’s about fighting for my unborn children and showing them that mommy did it despite fearing she may be shot at a traffic stop or while trying to make a living.
Today, I found the courage to do what I love.
This is a step closer to me finding strength and solace in words again.
here is something.
-with a capital m