Thursday, February 09, 2006
Cuts for Luck, Scars for Freedom
Healing, boys and girls, is the word of the day. Supa's dealing with some stuff. Seems like it's going around...everyone is having life issues, work issues, relationship issues, self issues, etc.
I've been fighting a wicked mood, and shoulda pulled back and took some quiet time for myself (some days off work). Have to remind myself (again and again) that healing is a process, you might feel better for days or even weeks at a time, then some shit'll hit and pull you under and make you feel like you're back at square one...
Times like this I get so overwhelmed with dealing with my own feelings/emotions/grief/rage that I find it absolutely unbearable to deal with anyone in my space...I become completely unfit for human interaction, believe me, I don't wanna see anyone, talk, etc. For an already loner, moody type chick such as myself, this causes some major stress amongst my friends and fam. I'll disappear, won't answer my phone, return emails, etc. for weeks. Shit is tough. On everybody. I just miss her.
So. Aside from the knife in the chest I walk around with on the daily, whenever I get any news (expected or otherwise) about my baby sister's murder case, I just have to take like fifty steps back and just chill....I got anger issues, man....hurt issues, pain issues...trying to resolve and deal.
But I just fucking can't see straight when I think about how this premeditated murderous fool gets delay after delay (the trial was supposed to start this month, now we were just informed he got a continuance until SEPTEMBER 06) and is sittin up talking with his punk ass lawyer and has three hots and a cot and time on his hands, when my lil' sis didn't have a second to react before he put a 9mm shot through the back of her skull. I'm sayin', I have to go somewhere, be very still, then sob and yell and throw things and try to box with God in a way where I won't scare my kids or get someone worried enough to come and sit with me for the rest of the fucking night. And don't worry, ya'll. Supa's not suicidal. She's homicidal. But lemme stop 'cause I've already been warned by the authorities on what constitutes a valid threat on a punk's life....
SO, last night I just cried. Didn't throw anything, no threatening phone calls to the jail, no calls to loved ones to share my anguish. Just listened to music. Smoked half a joint. Saw to the household, then got in bed.
I'm being real when I say the shit I've been through over the last five years should've fucking killed me. In a way it has. What I just wrote about is only about 1/4 of the entire story....Folks ask me about my ankh tattoo. I tell them that I got it there for spiritual/emotional reasons, I know what the symbol meant to my people, and I chose the symbol to anchor me back down to the earth. A sista been floatin'. I put it on my left foot (the feminine side), so it can serve as a reminder.
Yep, I'm still here.
So since I'm also working on my essay deadline for next Monday, Supa gon' take a lil' posting break. I'll reconnect next week when the pressures off and I've had more time to sit with myself and regroup. Have a great weekend, blogger fam. I'll still be checking in on your drama/foolishness when I get a sec.