In My Urn

After a full day to absorb everything going on on the political front, I challenged myself to look at this through the context of codependent healing and where I’m at in my journey. 

In my identity crisis, I genuinely weaped for the white lashing this election embodied. I cried over the millions of Americans this affects. I mourned over the personal loss my son and I endure over this, and our social status and how we are not privileged like so many. Together, we are a single parent/single mother household raising a disabled child of poor socioeconomic status that’s reliant on social systems to keep us alive. Our ability to remain alive is now at stake, and not just us, but so many. 

Muslims are afraid to be in America now more than ever it seems, and hate crimes are rising; there was a shooting at one of the polls yesterday as well. 20 bullets were fired. Disabled people may not be able to retain disability status for much longer where republicans chanted they wanted to get rid of social security for years… I fear for the safety of our nation as a whole. 

This outlines empathy.

This outlines advocacy.

This outlines my social justice.

This outlines my warrior spirit. 

Beneath all that however, I chose to grieve. Despite everything, I made a conscious decision to dive head first into all of this, and not just the political outlet, but the healing process as a whole. I’ve known I’ve always been very insightful, even towards unlocking myself. My journey as a Christian allowed me to work on that as a strength when I was in the prayer team for many years… But somewhere between the logistics of learning and the Trauma of Aris and raising a child, I stopped doing a lot of that… or maybe I couldn’t. It just wasn’t possible. Beneath the grief there is a sense of pride in who I am that isn’t conceited or codependent… It’s authentic, and I can feel it. I hate the turn out of all this, but I’m thankful for this moment of healing in my journey of life. 

I need to ask my neighbor if I can use her fire pit, since I want this grief kept in the urn, but I want to burn the pages as well once it’s been nurtured long enough… Who knows though, maybe this isn’t something I can let go of… Maybe it’s too important. For tonight, Netflix and root beer floats. 


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