I learned as a teenager, during the events of 9/11, that the sensitivity issues I was always told I had a child were so much more. I sat on 9/11 and watched hours and hours of footage. Planes crashing, phone calls people made to their loved ones before they died, burning buildings, people helping. And I cried. I cried and I cried and I cried. It hurt me. I don’t live in New York, or DC, but I felt like I could feel everyone’s pain. Their loss. Their angst. I didn’t know then what it was called, what was happening to me, but I knew it wasn’t something I could continue. I later learned that I was an empath. That’s why other’s pain was so intense to me. I could feel it.
As I continued to grow up, I learned how to put up a wall, block things out, so I didn’t just continuously cry. Because honestly, I would. I feel people’s anger, sadness, distress so deeply it hurts me. I have learned to control myself, take a step back, so I don’t feel everyone’s pain and to have some semblance of control over my own emotions.
Because of the events of 9/11, I learned that I cannot watch the news. Not in a continuous way. With social media and the constant coverage of certain news, I know I sometimes need to ignore or take a break. I have been good at doing that for the last 19 years.
Not lately. Not with regard to George Floyd. I have tried to keep myself back. Tried to not read too much, watch too much, get too involved. I have not been successful. This news is everywhere and honestly it completely breaks my heart. I have really been holding back as much as I can. I don’t comment, I don’t discuss, I don’t add to the constant coverage.
But I am broken. I am broken for my country, my friends, my family, my students. I am broken for those who are voiceless. Those killed for no reason, and I will not argue with anyone that there was a reason. Nothing that man did was enough for his life to be taken. Nothing.
I think about my friends, who cannot go through this life without being fearful for their own. I think about my students, who are black and will have to be taught that even if they comply with requests from police, they still may die. For no reason.
My students, who I am fearful of seeing on the news one day. Possibly dead. Just because they are black.
This is senseless. This violence is senseless.
I want to do more, but honestly, this is sickening and it’s killing my soul. I am broken and I am just trying to keep it together.
My Life in my Words 