Well, it happened again. I lost my mind. I forgot who I was, and for a short period of time, I was happy. I was happy because I was writing, but I honestly could feel it. Just around the corner, the waves crashing at the rocks, higher and higher each time.
“It’s coming, I can feel it.” Looking over my left shoulder, expecting someone to burst through the door and end my life, I could feel it, and then it happened, the sweet release of sanity and “oh yeah…I remember who I am.” And then the pain.
“I don’t agree that life favors the prepared mind because life made me lose my mind.”― Luffina Lourduraj
I have deliberately pushed myself to write, and chosen not to draw, dance, or sing. It’s not that I don’t like these other things, it’s that when I was five years old I decided I was going to be a writer, and I am trying to make that dream happen, and it’s really fucking hard.
I’m not where I want to be, but I am where I thought I would be at this part, and the problem isn’t that the work sucks or that the struggle is hard, it’s not even that I dislike finding new opportunities. That’s the stuff that thrills me because the work that I put into writing an essay means that eventually, someone is going to read the words “I” wrote, and no matter what, they will be changed forever.
Maybe I’m not meant to win awards, but that’s okay because the awards are just confirmation of what “I” already know to be true.
I am really smart, I have always been really smart. I could see things that I couldn’t explain when I was a child, I remember my birth, I’ve seen my future, in a million different ways and I know the one that “I” want.
I’m working really hard to build Loud Mouth Brown Girl into something that matters to people around the globe, and it’s fucking insane because this is just a blog right? But what if it weren’t? What if it were a full-service mental health company? What if I was able to hire other writers? What if I was able to build a foundation around this blog that helped more than just me express myself? What if THIS blog could set the foundation for how we talk about mental health?
On May 14th a white man traveled for the SECOND time, to a notoriously BLACK celebrated GROCERY store and opened FIRE on several BLACK people. He KILLED TEN and INJURED several others. He was TAKEN in ALIVE. The SHOOTER was WHITE.
This was the trigger. This shooting made me think about the Surrey Six shooting – the horrid name by the way – in this event, two men broke into an apartment, tied up and executed six people, over the state of the Surrey BC drug trade.
I think about this every day, and I have for years because drugs have always interacted in and out of my life. From cannabis to the heroine, drugs have always been on the edge of the world I live in, constantly destroying everything I care about.
Now some may think that this has nothing to do with anything, except that the shooting of 6 innocent people happened less than a quarter-mile from my house. So shootings, in particular, are a trigger for me. But this one in Buffalo was different. This wasn’t drugs.
This wasn’t “mental health issues,” this was a white man’s deliberate act of violence. An act he planned, plotted and executed because he decided that Black people, don’t deserve to live because we’re taking space away from white people.
I as you all know, have some experience with that. White supremacy has stripped me of everything that I thought I was, and absolutely of everything that I could have been while destroying the lives of people I care about in equally horrific and awful ways.
This week, I found sanity again, and honestly, it fucking terrified me. I saw this vision, of a world that didn’t have shootings, or violence, where people just got along, loved each other, and traded information and education freely. Food, housing, clothing, and medical services were all handed out like candy and the world was a perfect utopia of happiness.
The reason that I crashed is because of the Buffalo shooting.
I got scared, and I mentally ran away, because honestly…he didn’t do it because he was sick and had a bad day, he did it because they were Black.
My friend @Freeyourmindkid, grew up in Buffalo, and his family shops at that grocery store. We’ve never met, but his life matters to me. His existence is important to me. I want him to have a big, beautiful life. I want to invite him to my future life, I want him to be a part of my world because HE MATTERS TO ME.
The people who matter to me, have ALWAYS been in danger. Because of their race, their age, their creed, their nationality, their size, their disability, or ability. EVERYONE I LOVE has been in danger at some point in my life, and it’s never been safe to just exist, and then I caught myself, I was feeling safe.
How can you ASK me to NOT be AFRAID when my COUSINS are being SLAUGHTERED every single day? How can you ask me to be OKAY when I could be MURDERED because of the ONE thing that I CAN’T change if I TRIED? I HATE YOU for making me AFRAID.
When we were kids, it was gangsters – or rather cops pretending to be gangsters who liked to rape children. When we were older it was the secret of what happened to us. It was that that kept us from talking, from sharing our stories, and then we became gangsters, and then I got raped, again and again, and again because the men in charge said it was okay. My whole life has been about being controlled by white men and I’m tired of it.
Everything that I’ve done on this website has been about speaking out against child rape and pedophilia, and since I started doing that I’ve had death threats, I’ve had threats of being kicked in the head, I’ve been threatened with all manner of horrid and awful things. People cross the street when they see me coming, and I expected it, I knew that people would hate me for speaking out, I’m not afraid of death.
What I’m afraid of is not saying all the things that I want to say before I go. Growing up in Calgary I was told that the cops and the soldiers were the good guys, but in reality, it was the Priests, the teachers, and the cops who let me down.
When I told them what happened to me they said I was crazy. When I said there were men out there pretending to be Hell’s Angels because there are so many so who is really going to know or care? They said I was nuts and put me in a fucking hospital. Repeatedly.
And right about now in an office somewhere a cop is looking down at big fat file and saying “Jesus fucking Christ, she was right.”
So knowing who I am, and what I know, how the fuck can you expect me to look at the people of Buffalo who were traumatized, and not think “Fuck, it could be me next?” Especially when I am deliberately choosing to fight against a system built on white supremacy, and designed to destroy the lives of the world’s most innocent?
More than one reporter has been killed in this world, many on purpose because they had the courage to speak out. So we’re doomed if we go to the store to go to the grocery store, and we’re doomed if we talk about what happened to us, and we’re doomed if we stay silent, and you honestly want to know why I’ve lost my mind? Because I’ve had enough.
I’m not just tired, I am literally losing my grip on reality.
In the lat ten years we have faced:
- American Soldiers returning home after 25 years in Afghanistan and Iraq, only to see both places completely revert to the way they were before the Soldiers got there.
- A pandemic
- 1 MILLION People DEAD in America, from Covid19 and Omicron
- War in Ukraine
- More pandemic
- More Trump
- Elon Musk and his…whatever the fuck he’s up to which is probably very bad
- More Trump
- Oh and the death of hundreds of Black folk at the hands of police and white folk
- More than 10 THOUSAND Indigenous children have been found buried around North America at the base of the residential schools that were their living Hell
- No answers to the Missing and Murdered Women of BC
- on and on and on
And you expect me, someone who has been gang-raped and raped by individuals more times than I can count, to stay sane after screaming for 39 years about child rape, torture, and trauma, in Canada, which is one of the MANY countries that like to pretend grown as men in cop uniforms aren’t abusing children and turning them into gangsters to feed the birth to drugs to prison to death pipeline?
Yeah, sure. It sounds like a conspiracy doesn’t it? Like a horrendous film where Gerard Butler, Channing Tatum, and Liam Neeson sign up to save the day, except it’s not, it’s my reality and it’s terrible. But for a short while, I was able to dig into the writing and building of this website and forget all the awful things in the world.
And then the shooting happened. A Security guard, Aaron Salter Jr., 55, with his last dying breath fought back. And then another, at a church, Dr. John Cheng, 52 saved countless lives by tackling the shooter who was angry about something or other, and he killed the Doctor. Hero.
To say that I have been overstimulated by violence, by abuse, by all of the negativity is an understatement. It is exhausting to live in a world that is constantly trying to destroy everything you love, but when you’re screaming for help and no one is noticing that’s even worse.
We are not okay. We as a society are struggling, and while part of me wants to say “fight back, scream, yell, and don’t give in,” another part of me just wants to roll with it, and see what happens, because honestly? I can’t remember where I fit anymore.
Six or seven weeks ago I watched a Ukrainian couple get married, I was watching on CNN while they promised to love each other. Three days later, he was shot and killed. Wanna know what my first thought was? It wasn’t “oh that’s so sad,” it was “well I guess if you know you’re going to die, marriage seems like a good idea.”
Because I am so broken by abuse, I didn’t see a world where I got married, and just as I started to think “maybe the world is giving us a break,” a whole bunch of people were killed, for no reason other than the color of our skin. Hope? What the fuck does that even mean?
Fuck you for making us afraid.
P.S. CNN Just announced a Monkey Pox epidemic, so…welcome to the fucking apocalypse.
Sending all my love,
Devon J Hall