Don’t Ask Me if I’m OK

Don’t ask me if I’m ok because I’m not.  I’m a black man in amerikkka who is hunted and misjudged daily. But this time of year in particular I’m a ball of emotions just trying to survive my wounds. I call this time of year the crying simgres-8eason. Fall to early winter all the holiday stuff stirs up a lot of family pain. There is a well of tears I still carry from being poor, black,trans,and queer. Sadness I can’t shake because my family is so distant from me physically and emotionally. Sadness, frustrations,and feelings of  failure cause I cant seem to find my way back to them (and I’m sure if they want me there anymore). Sadness I repress or work around most of the year. Then fall comes  and it rises to the surface all my conflicted feelings around feeling pushed out of black organizing spaces,my original faith, and family communities simply for living my truth overwhelms me.
For the past few years I’ve been trying to reconnect to family and childhood friends. 4x this year people said they wanted to meet up and reconnect then when the time came they disappeared stopped answering messages. I think they just couldn’t handle meimages-12eting the man I am today. That’s their choice I can’t force people to accept me or to want to be apart of my life but to get my hopes up again and leave me hanging was kinda devastating. I want to push those who have been chosen family and great friends away cause I feel the need for them and the absence of my blood peeps the most during this time. Fears of abandonment cause me to hide and make me hella grouchy.
Healing is a process and though I know I’ve come  far sometimes my wounds are ripped open again and I feel shame for feeling these pains. It’s hard watching so many people have children and I still have none. Every year the reality that I probably will never be able to have children with my DNA grows heavier. Makes me feel weak cursed and less than. Honestly I’m worried for my heart. I love children so much but now when i see families sometimes Jealousy, anger, and bitterness rises.
I have high functioning chronic depression and this time of year  the internal fight for my life intensifies. Daily searching for reasons not to give up . Don’t ask me if I’m OK cause imgres-9I’m not. Ask  me over for a home cooked meal or to giggle to cartoons. Take me to nature. Send an encouraging message from Time to time. Understand when I can’t find the strength to come to your family functions alone(but don’t stop inviting me). These are all things I do for people I care for when they allow me the opportunity. If you can’t do those things that’s cool too just don’t ask me if I’m OK when you see me. Just say hi.This maybe TMI for some but I’m just trying to get better by expressing the hardest things to express. I appreciate my chosen family and friends its just a hard time of year.

When It Comes To You

I have it 

I have all I need 

to do what I got to do 

why is it so hard 

when it comes to you 

is this love 

is this pain 

non sense 

the logic 

my common sense 

labels profane

 

an act of desperation 

clothed in devotion 

why is it so hard when it comes to you 

I blame me 

you think 

its you 

we collide the way lovers do 

Splashing together 

throbbing harder 

confusing surviving with thriving 

running from the truth into each others arms 

refusing to jump out of love 

as easily as we fell in

stubbornly misery loves company

confusing surviving with thriving 

running from the truth into each others arms 

renewing unspoken agreements 

embracing a silent understanding

subconsciously refusing to flee our sinking ship 

with every text/ call,  with every touch/ kiss

 

 

I have it 

I have all I need 

to do what I got to do 

why is it so hard 

when it comes to you 

is this love 

is this pain 

non sense 

the logic 

my common sense 

 labels profane 

why is it so hard 

when it comes to you