For When You Feel Powerless...

I see your Shame Brene Brown and Raise You Powerlessness

One of the worst feelings in the world to me is the feeling of being powerless. I have felt this way so many times in my life and I have never acknowledged them to myself, because it is so painful connecting to the emotion. The earliest memory I have of being powerless is when my mother drove me to Florida to live with my godmother. To this day, I still have no clue what a godmother is or what they are supposed to do, but that is beside the very obvious point that my mother did not want me. I stayed there for two weeks and I cried every single one of them.

The only solace I found was in playing wheel of fortune on my godfathers old computer. I don’t remember dates or times or even how old I was, but I know everyone was impressed that I figured out how to launch it on my own just by watching him do it. I struggle to find the words to describe how scared I was as a child being in that house with people I did not know being made to follow rules I did not understand. What I remember of my godmother is basically her obsession with clothes and looking and dressing nice. When I think of her, I think of JCPenny’s, Credit Cards, and Shopping for hours and hours on end.

This seems like a good time to tell you that I “hear” voices. I also remember her yelling alot, in fact, her voice and voices like that are extremely triggering to me. I can “hear” when someone is pretending to “not be upset” I can hear when someone is pretending to be nice. I can hear when someone is pretending because I pretend all the time. I pretend I am not smart. I pretend I am not capable. I pretend that I am powerless because for a significant portion of my life I literally was. I was powerless to stop my mother beating me for behaviors she’d just gave me a hug for an hour earlier.

I was powerless to stop the racist black labrador retriever who chased me on my way to school every day for several years. I was powerless to stop the black kids from bullying me on the bus on the way to school. I was also powerless to stop them from bullying me before, during, and after class. I was powerless to stop them from beating me up at lunch in the same way my mother did back at home. I was powerless to stop my mother from spending all her money on Benny Hinn, Juanita Bynum, and the biggest pimp on the planet TD Jakes. I was powerless to stop the preachers from screaming into their mics which were not leveled properly.

I was powerless to stop [insert specific piece of trauma that is impossible for anyone to believe is true without going crazy and so everyone would label me crazy for even conceptualizing it] and it happened over and over again and I have only ever said it out loud once. There is a strange feeling of peace that comes with accepting that there was a time in my life when I was powerless to stop others from defining my reality for me. When someone defines your reality for you, they really can make you do all sorts of ghastly, unspeakable, and unforgivable things. They can also make you forgive them for the same, all the while denying any wrongdoing by saying that “well, you made the choice”.

Is it truly a choice when you have me convinced that the only options are the ones you present and then threaten to beat me if I come up with my own? What about calling me crazy for even thinking that you might be lying to me? Then, when I provide you with obvious proof that what you have been saying isn’t true, you apologize and make me believe it because you say if I don’t I am going to hell. My biggest fear is telling THE truth and being punished for it, not a truth, not my truth, but THE truth. And the truth of the matter is that some people come from entire family systems that are abusive and they often get labeled as schizophrenic because therapists come from family systems just like that.

Black men, by and large, are the biggest victims of this and I truly believe with all my heart, that schizophrenia is a trauma response to believing a truth in your family that no one, and I mean no one wants to admit. But thats exactly what a schizophrenic would say isn’t it…

This weekend I received a piece of information that caused me to feel powerless. I realize that I am completely and totally dependent on my license in order for me to live my life and as long as I am dependent on my license, I will be depending on white supremacy. I need to find a way to make money that is independent of my license so that just in case a troll decides to write my licensing board and accuse me of “unprofessional conduct”, I don’t get triggered and lose an entire weekend of rest. Which is not something that I am saying that I am saying has happened, is happening, or will happen nor is this me attempting to give anyone any ideas. So this is my first chapter of a book I am writing that doesn’t necessarily have a title, but I will release the next part when 1 more person signs up for my patreon. Just convince one of your friends or something. The lowest tier is $1.99 and the more I can be supported directly by donations, the more free I will feel and the faster the book will get written. That you will already have a copy of..