TODAY I CAN’T

This morning I feel numb. I have this lump in my throat that I usually don’t have, my anxiety feels high, and my next-door neighbor at my apartment complex is currently practicing some sort of horn instrument that sounds very similar to a Tuba at 9:00 AM. I am craving peace and balance and yet can’t find it. Since that start of COVID-19 and remote work, my team has been doing daily morning “huddles” to check-in and review client issues. My heaviness and detachment are stemming from another Black murder by racism and police brutality. In preparation for the morning meeting, these questions keep playing in my head “Does anyone on my team think about these things? Do they even care? If I bring up my feelings related to these race-driven murders, will they understand?Today I’ve decided that when someone asks “how are you?” my answer will be “I’m fine.” I usually don’t consider myself at a loss for words, but today that is all I can muster for a group of people who don’t identify with my plight.

To the rest of the world “I am not fine.” I’m tired of seeing my brothers murdered. My stomach is in knots, this lump is still there, and I feel like I could burst into tears at any moment. I’ve completely skipped the denial stage of grief and I’m in pure rage. Ironically, this week The WE Collective is sharing information related to grief, and today I can’t seem to take any of the advice or recommendations that we’re encouraging people to use. I know the stuff, I know the stages, I know the exercises, but today I. JUST. CAN’T. It’s currently 10:50 am and I have a million things to do. Tons of client follow-up calls, a never-ending mountain of notes, and an assessment.

The only thing I’ve managed to do this morning is go grab my favorite vanilla sugar-free iced coffee from McDonald’s, and it feels good going down. This moment in my morning feels good. Today, my encouragement to everyone sharing in the collective grief of the continued harassment and genocide of our Black brothers and sisters is to find a moment. Whether it be a cry, an iced coffee, an unexpected laugh, find it. Sometimes the exercises are too much, the prompts, the reflection—too much. Today, I feel paralyzed in my feelings, but I know that I cannot stay here.

Today, I am allowing myself to stay here with my iced coffee and experience the feelings of rage, and the goodness of my drink. This is my moment, right now. This moment of goodness and grief will allow me to move into the work tomorrow, and continue the fight.

An update from my first paragraph, and the thoughts I was experiencing going into my meeting; one of my co-workers spoke up about George Floyd’s murder. She brought up something that happened yesterday at work, where one of the nurses, who is a Black woman, saw the video of the murder. Her reaction was strong. She wept, hollered, and crumbled into her grief. She was comforted by said co-worker who stood with her in her moment.

My co-worker, let’s call her B for ease of writing, reminded my team of the many injustices of the Black community, and the two recent murders of George Floyd and Ahmad Arbery. B encouraged us to be kind to each other and highlighted how this is affecting our Black co-workers, and that we need comfort. At that moment, on my zoom call, I broke down and cried. I had no words as the tears flowed and I released. The lump in my throat was now gone, anxiety still there, but I felt heard and seen in that moment. I texted B after the meeting and said this “ Thank you for bringing that up in our huddle. You’ve helped me today. I didn’t feel alone in my feelings when you shared yours.”

To all those who read this, and don’t identify as a BIPOC, speak up. Be more than not racist. Be an anti-racist who actively fights, brings awareness to, and calls out racism and oppression in all forms, even within yourself. You are helping and your lack of silence is required to dismantle systems of oppression—even if it’s just a power system at your workplace.

In solidarity and continued fight.