A quote from the article:
"A prosecutor in Hempstead, Texas has announced that a grand jury has refused to issue indictments in the jailhouse death of Sandra Bland in July of this year."
I think that the word that offends me most in this is "refused".
Definition of refused:
1. Indicate or show that one is not willing to do something.
2. Indicate that one is not willing to accept or grant.
3. Fail to perform a required action.
When a grand jury refuses to see any wrongdoing, that means that it was there, and they were not willing to accept it. To me, this is unconscionable, because a grand jury’s job is to be the gatekeeper to justice. Without their say so, trials cannot proceed, and without those trials, many people who seek justice will never find it.
It has been documented before that grand juries rarely fail to indict. In an article for Reason.com, Anthony L. Fisher stated that in 2010, grand juries were presented 162,000 federal cases, and only declined to return an indictment for 11 of them. (https://reason.com/blog/2014/11/25/grand-juries-almost-never-fail-to-indict#.oyoe6eq:ZGp1)
That’s 0.0067901 percent of cases presented. That is less than one percent. Yet by and large, the indictments for cases involving people of color keep falling through the cracks.
Darren Wilson, the officer who murdered Michael Brown? No indictment.
Dante Servin, the officer who murdered Rekia Boyd? No indictment.
Michael Traudt, the officer who murdered Paul Castaway? No indictment
Daniel Pantaleo, the officer who murdered Eric Garner? No indictment.
Roger Worley and Braheme Days, the officers who murdered Jerame Reid? No indictment.
And now, the officers at Waller County Jail, who murdered Sandra Bland walk away with no repercussions. Hopefully, in January, the gatekeepers will be willing to give her grieving family access to the justice that they guard.
But I won't hold my breath. The odds, while they statistically should be in our favor, clearly show to never bet on black.
Or any other color than blue.
I love my wife more than I love myself.
I'm sure plenty of spouses say that all of the time, and the vast majority of the time, they mean it.
However, I mean it wholeheartedly. I love my wife more than I love myself, and I know that because for a very long time, I loved anyone more than I loved myself.
It didn't matter if you were family, a friend, an acquaintance or a stranger, I would do whatever I could to show you love.
Whether that was giving time, money, or food and drink, I would do it gladly, because I didn't love me, but you could love me if I worked hard enough, and through your approval I might find
Just a little for myself. The leftovers.
But as I think about the people that I met, I also am struck by the rejections that came with them, and each one sent me spiraling into a place devoid of hope, devoid of light.
Devoid of love.
I think I never really have gotten to a point where I can look in a mirror and say I love myself. I still struggle with the idea of accepting me for who I am on a daily basis.
But I have come to realize that I can never seek that love in others, because to seek it out takes so much work, so much effort, that quite often, I push the throttle beyond what is acceptable, and run the other party off.
I hate myself a lot.
But I stay busy so that I don't think about it. I try to stay one step ahead of my thoughts so that I cannot get the opportunity to knock myself down again. I have been put down by too many other people to allow me to be the final nail.
My salvation is in my family. I can look at them and know that they love me through my good times and my bad, and I am grateful for that, because when I have nothing left for myself, my family always gives me more.
But I don't want to take anymore. I want to fill myself.
But I don't know how.
I love my wife and kids more than anything. But I can't love myself.
Having a case of the Mondays
On a Friday
Looking for attention
Having a bad day
A survivor of mental illness
And I could use your help.
Looked in the mirror today
to discover that I had lost weight.
My smile seemed more genuine,
And I looked more confident in my body.
I had worked hard to get to this point,
Exercising every day to excise
The weight of other people’s expectations,
The weight of self judgement,
The weight of wondering if people were talking about me
or ABOUT me.
The weight of measuring up
To people who never wanted to be measured in the first place.
I’m still exercising,
And I have cheat days every so often.
But I’m losing weight
And I’m trying hard not to go back.