I Can't

I didn’t watch the videos in the past because– I didn’t think I could handle it.
I’m barely on the other side of healing from personal trauma.
I thought I was protecting my heart.

I was afraid that if I watched the videos,
I’d get scared and start living like a coward.
And if I’m a coward, I might raise a coward.
I was afraid that if I watched the videos I’d get angry.
I’d get vocal.
And with my face, people would just tune me out.
Or (more likely) I’d get angry,
stuff it down,
and let it literally eat me alive.
I was afraid that if I watched the videos,
I’d cry far more than smile most days,
and I just figured out how to have joy.

So, I chose not to watch the videos.
I read the news,
Got quiet,
Let the sadness privately wash over me,
Move on with my life.
I thought if I exposed myself to more pain,
I’d come undone.
I usually don’t watch the videos because
I thought, I just CAN’T.

But … for a reason I cannot explain,
this time I couldn’t NOT watch.
I needed to watch it.
I did, and it HURT.
I knew it would,
but in a strange way, it feels right.
Necessary even.
I’m mourning right now.
I’m praying for his family,
our nation,
my people.
I’m allowing myself to feel whatever I feel.

In a way, it feels like I’ve been losing family members all this time
and refusing to go to the funeral:
Ignoring the grieving process that this generational trauma deserves.
I don’t know what to do to change the world around me yet,
but my first step is showing up and allowing myself to grieve.

So, George Floyd, rest in peace, sir.