The best you can hope for is that there will be people to catch you when you fall. I got lucky that way, that there were people there. I feel like I should feel humiliated about the last couple years of my life, but that humiliation isn’t something I am interested in carrying on my shoulders.
It occurred to me recently that there is every chance in the world my rapists might come back because I tried to out them. There is every chance in the world they will decide they are tired of my loud mouth talking about rape and abuse, but that’s not a fear I am interested in carrying either.
I decided recently I am no longer carrying things I don’t want to, but especially negative bullshit.
Someone asked me recently, “What kind of racism do you prefer” the answer is none, I prefer no racism, but the fact that they felt they had a right to expect that I would be vulnerable and unpack my reasons for choosing one over the other, was frustrating.
I reached out to some of my Black Writer friends and posted the question to them, many of them said the same thing, they prefer one over the other for whatever reason, but that they understood my frustration.
White people – specifically – expect others to be vulnerable at any given moment, often not understanding why we don’t feel safe, while expecting us to teach them when they haven’t taken any initiative to learn on their own.
I am not interested in talking to White people about Race, or much else for that matter, because our experiences are vastly different and no matter how I try to explain that it is never “all white people,” they continue to see my experience as a micro-aggression against their existence.
It can be said that if I refuse to have the conversation I have no right to complain, but the answers to your questions are readily available in a variety of places if you have but only the courage to look.
Reni Eddo-Lodge wrote an entire book on the topic called “Why I am No Longer Talking To White People About Race”. I am reading it now. In it she details all the reasons that it is absolutely and utterly exhausting to talk to white people about race.
It’s like talking to men about sexism and rape…for the most part a fruitless effort that ends with more frustration than it does answers, and again I say this meaning “not all men.“
I am no longer having conversations that frustrate or irritate me. I am no longer dealing with people who want me to be less of myself to make their lives easier. I am no longer allowing people into my life who want to be anything other than genuine.
I am choosing what I carry, because y’all I am exhausted. When I hit thirty-six or so, I started really looking at my life, like a movie – I’ve said this before, it was an idea that my friend Hunter had once, he told me to look at my memories as if they were a movie.
That sent me down an emotional rabbit hole that I never thought that I would escape, and I am still crawling my way out, but the one thing that I realized by doing this is that although the memories can’t hurt, the fact that I went through so much and survived all of it, is an exhausting realization.
I am clinically exhausted, even though I haven’t been diagnosed with it, I know that’s what I have. My spirit is tired.
I am not arguing with Trump Supporters or Bernie Bros, I am not allowing that shit to affect me. I am going to continue to take my medication, I am going to continue to see my Doctor and my Nurse, and I am going to focus on getting healthy, by letting go of the bullshit.
A lot of this realization comes from being high and spending time meditating. I prefer to curl up in bed, close my eyes and let the world go by outside the window without my interference.
I feel a bit like a dog whose been kicked too many times, and now I am healing from my injuries, and part of that is understanding that I can’t take on the world when I am not at one hundred percent.
I am no longer allowing the things that people did in the past to control my present or my future. A blanket of forgiveness all around so that I can move on, and as much as I want that to be true, I know that I will have to practice forgiveness every single day.
There are some things that just can’t be forgiven over night, but I am prepared for that if it means that I can heal faster and get back to having the life that I expect I want for myself.
I want to be the kind of person who isn’t carrying anger and rage around, I want to learn to react people better when they say “I’m sorry” when they hear my story. I want to be calm and happy and spend my time with people that I love who love me.
So I CHOOSE what I carry and I no longer choose to carry those who won’t do the reading.
Sending all my love,
Devon J Hall