My mom had just taken me to get my hair cut. She had to run a few errands before we went back home. I was sitting in the front passenger seat. We were stopped at the red light by the police department when a friend of hers started talking to her from the next lane over. After a few minutes, her friend asked her who the boy was with her in the car.
“That’s not a boy, that’s Irene,” Mom said. She said it matter-of-factly like her friend was an idiot for not recognizing me. I was six years old.
I encourage everyone to watch the video above. Imani speaks around the 11 minute mark exactly what I’m thinking.
Storyteller
They tell me I’m good at telling stories
but they don’t want to hear mine
it’s too dark
it’s too sad
it’s too scary
and they don’t want to think about it
They want me to tell them stories
but accounts need to be happy
tales need to be funny
a narrative which can be shared
“Tell me another story about your grandma,” they say.
Those are fun
those are nice
those make me think of my family
and not anything sad
They don’t want to hear my stories
of violence and anguish
they don’t want to hear my stories
of loneliness and torment
They don’t want to hear my stories
unless there’s a smile at the end
No one wants to hear descriptions
of potential snatched away
or chronicles of terror and screams,
suffering and tears
keep those stories to yourself
that’s for you to figure out
shoulders to cry on are rescinded
it’s too much for them to endure
I write my stories down on paper
for no one else to view
Everyone says they want to read them
but no one ever does
They say they want me to share my stories
but as soon as I open my mouth
the topic gets changed
keep that to yourself
Tears stain the paper as I go
memories I don’t want in my head
transferred to dead trees
but the visions live on just for me
They don’t want to hear my stories
of brutality and struggle
They don’t want to hear my stories
of solitude and sorrow
They don’t want to hear my stories
unless there’s a smile at the end
No one wants to hear
stories with terror, screams, and wails
of potential snatched away
or lamentations of what could have been
keep those stories to yourself
that’s for you to figure out
shoulders to cry on are retracted
it’s too much for them to bear
weeping should be kept solitary
Asleep or awake
my stories are continually shared
only with myself.
Everyone says I’m a good storyteller
but joy is all they want to hear
There is no desire to receive my speech
Their reticence serves to placate themselves
pat themselves on the back
with empty platitudes
thinking they provided guidance
and good deeds
while I process the images alone
I sit alone at home
putting horror and repugnance into words.
With my little blue book and black ink
I detail my stories
that no one will ever read
They don’t want to hear my stories
of trying to pick myself up again
They don’t want to hear my stories
unless it’s tied up neatly with a bow
They don’t want to hear my stories
unless there’s pleasantness at the end.
Over the past month, I’ve been watching videos from a variety of perspectives and disciplines. I thought I’d share three of my favorites.
Note: For some reason, the video works for some folks, but not others. Here is the direct link to the video on YouTube.
Today was World Mental Health Day. I spent it by taking the day off and doing things for my own mental health. This included watching some videos and a little bit of writing, but mostly just thinking and reflecting on life and how to get a better balance on the many things that intersect with my mind and my personal life from day-to-day.
The video above would have never been made 20 years ago. In that sense, the world has come a long way in being open about mental health. The drivers have some good things to say as well. We still have so much farther to go, but this is a good first step.
After today, I’m not going to revisit thoughts about life without social media anymore. At this time last year, I made my last post on Facebook telling people I was deleting Facebook, the last of my social media accounts, and they were welcome to continue to keep up to date with me here. Those who wished to do so could also text, do lunch, go for hikes, etc.
While some people still criticize me for leaving because it doesn’t affect them negatively, I have no desire to return to an arena which made me feel angry and made me feel less of a person all the time. It absolutely worsened my mental health.
F1 Ukrainian flag collage, framed.
One thing my grandma taught me was to never stop learning. It’s sound advice I have always remembered.
I’m still trying to process the reality we now live in after the Supreme Court made it official and took away a vital right for women. I’ll be writing a post in a few days about my thoughts and feelings, but, I wanted to put up something which might help others who may be seeking an abortion or who may want to support people who are seeking an abortion.
All of the Supreme Court’s decisions this term has removed protections Americans fought hard for and believed was settled law. The activists on the bench were put there for this very decision today. Roe and Casey are overturned.
This morning, I sent emails to Nebraska Governor Pete Ricketts and my state representative, Senator John Stinner. Last month, the legislature narrowly defeated a bill that would have banned abortion in the state. Since the SCOTUS draft leak, Gov. Ricketts has been making the rounds in the media indicating he may call an emergency session of the state legislature to try and pass the bill again. He would like to ban all abortions, without exceptions for rape and/or incest.
I can rage on the internet all I want, but these two men are my only hope for abortion to remain legal in the state. I don’t know if my letter, my words, or my story would sway them to reconsider, but I had to try.
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