Happy May!

Can you believe that it is already the first day of May? Time is flying. Life’s most precious gift is time. Love time. Respect time and trust time. Use it wisely.

Here’s to wishing you a beautiful May with flowers in bloom, sweet scents of springs and lots of love and laughter to encourage your soul. I wish you lots of peaceful thoughts and beautiful breezes over a body of water. Peace. That’s my wish to you for this beautiful month.

Hello-May-7

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

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Blood makes noise

A must read from Daisy at Daisy in the Willows.

Daisy in the Willows

I had nothing prepared to blog about  in my mind. Again – I thought. No inspiration to type anything.

I’m finding out my inspiration comes from reading your posts!

So thank you .

Today I want to thankAnnette @ Annettes place  – post on child hood scars  and her using the daily prompt. 

Her  child hood scars remind me of my own scars.

One scar I have is huge – it almost wraps all the way around my upper wrist -it is 2-3 cm wide.  Indented, It reminds me of  a dried up river.

The cause?

Domestic violence.

Before I continue..

I do want to point out  this month is MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS week in the UK.

The theme  and focus  for 2016 is on relationships

I’m going to state the obvious here.

Domestic violence in a relationship fucks about with your mental health, whether you love the…

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Audre Lorde

Today’s Black History Month spotlight goes to another poet I discovered in college. Happy Birthday Audre Lorde! Rest in Peace!

I love her work. Strong imagery. I can actually hear her speaking the words to me as I read them. Isn’t that what good poetry is supposed to do? Transport you into the situation so that you can see what is being said? Whew! Audre Lorde was born February 18, 1934 and died November 17, 1992.   She was an incredible poet, essayist and feminist. A champion of causes. She used her writing to speak to the times. Much of it could be felt now.

 

Power

BY AUDRE LORDE

The difference between poetry and rhetoric
is being ready to kill
yourself
instead of your children.
I am trapped on a desert of raw gunshot wounds
and a dead child dragging his shattered black
face off the edge of my sleep
blood from his punctured cheeks and shoulders
is the only liquid for miles
and my stomach
churns at the imagined taste while
my mouth splits into dry lips
without loyalty or reason
thirsting for the wetness of his blood
as it sinks into the whiteness
of the desert where I am lost
without imagery or magic
trying to make power out of hatred and destruction
trying to heal my dying son with kisses
only the sun will bleach his bones quicker.
A policeman who shot down a ten year old in Queens
stood over the boy with his cop shoes in childish blood
and a voice said “Die you little motherfucker” and
there are tapes to prove it. At his trial
this policeman said in his own defense
“I didn’t notice the size nor nothing else
only the color”. And
there are tapes to prove that, too.
Today that 37 year old white man
with 13 years of police forcing
was set free
by eleven white men who said they were satisfied
justice had been done
and one Black Woman who said
“They convinced me” meaning
they had dragged her 4’10” black Woman’s frame
over the hot coals
of four centuries of white male approval
until she let go
the first real power she ever had
and lined her own womb with cement
to make a graveyard for our children.
I have not been able to touch the destruction
within me.
But unless I learn to use
the difference between poetry and rhetoric
my power too will run corrupt as poisonous mold
or lie limp and useless as an unconnected wire
and one day I will take my teenaged plug
and connect it to the nearest socket
raping an 85 year old white woman
who is somebody’s mother
and as I beat her senseless and set a torch to her bed
a greek chorus will be singing in 3/4 time
“Poor thing. She never hurt a soul. What beasts they are.”

Co-Parenting and Death

Hey Everyone!

Sorry for the delay. It’s been a rough weekend compounded with a bad Monday where I didn’t feel good and was home in the bed.

As I’ve stated before, co-parenting can be a real drag when the parents think and do things differently. As a strong personality (yes, I will admit it) it can be hard for me to not intercede my opinion on what is in the best interest of my child. I’ve learned that I can’t do that. My ex often referred to me as a controlling b**** and I have to remember that what he does on the week’s that he has my son is what he chooses. Do I like it? Nope. Do I think you should follow that logic? Nope, but to keep the peace – I do.

That being said, let me tell you how that dang logic can fail. Last Thursday, my son’s father stopped by to see munch at his request and then proceeded to tell him that the family dog, Bailey, will have to be put to sleep soon because he was sick. My son had a major breakdown and ran in the house crying to see me and talk to me about it. I asked his dad, “Why would you tell him that?” He replied, “It’s true, the dog hasn’t eaten or drank little water since last Friday.” “So, you’re letting him suffer and wait it out?” I asked. “No, munch said he wants to say good-bye to Bailey first” was his reply.

I disagreed with this logic. Our child was 7. He didn’t need to see him dying. WTH? I said nothing though. You know, that dang co-parenting thing.

Bailey had been sick for two years. Two years. The longest two years of my life. I watched his slow decline and offered to split the vet costs with my ex. He never responded. Last November, I decided that I would no longer split custody of the dog. My ex wasn’t taking good care of him and I had hoped that my decision would have forced him to give Bailey up or take him to the vet. I said that I would keep him if they should go out of town.

He said nothing. “Okay” was his response. In April was the last time I kept Bailey. I told my ex that Bailey’s health is failing and this is ridiculous. You need to get him to the vet. It didn’t happen. My ex was hospitalized in June on a Friday. On Sunday he asked me could I get Bailey. It was 48 hours later. Didn’t you think of him Friday when you were hospitalized? Why are you now thinking of him on Sunday? I replied “No.” He called me all kinds of names and told me how I failed Bailey and threw him away like I did our family.

I was hurt. I didn’t throw away our family. I ended our relationship. I cried. But, I resolved to not give into the bitterness and let the pain suffocate me like a wet blanket trying to extinguish a fire. It was no good. It did suffocate me.

I told him through text that Bailey needs to be taken care of by someone else. My ex couldn’t walk him anymore. He was in denial and couldn’t see beyond his own need for Bailey to remain with him. Bailey was going to the bathroom on pee pads in his house , no exercise or medical attention.  I said a prayer and let Bailey go.

It pained me to see him when I would drop off things at my ex’s house. He looked so sick and sad. I prayed. I let him go in my heart. I begged my friends who were friends with him to please talk to him about giving up Bailey. They didn’t. It wasn’t their place. Whose place was it? Mine? Nope, he didn’t listen to me.

Bailey was getting sicker.

That suffering ended Friday, September 25th when my son and his dad walked in their house and found Bailey dead. He was 9. Would have been 10 on November 4th.  My son had a breakdown.

When I spoke to him he said, “Mommy, Bailey’s dead. His eyes were open and he had a scratch on his eye. Mommy” My heart broke. My munch was experiencing first hand the pain of losing someone very close to him. Bailey had been in his life since he was born. We introduced them as brothers. I tried to calm him down. My son asked, “Mommy, don’t you care that he’s gone?” “Yes munch, but Bailey is in a much better place. He’s not suffering anymore and I need you to calm down. To know that he is not in pain.”

Saturday morning my ex calls and tells me that he needed me to take munch to therapy. He can’t take him. He has to deal with the proper disposal of Bailey’s body. Yep, I had a WTH? moment but couldn’t say anything right? My munch spent the night at his dad’s house with Bailey’s body. I was hurt. I was angry. What is wrong with his dad? Why can’t he see past his own pain and take his son out of the house? But, I’m not allowed to ask questions.

My son cried in my arms all Saturday. Heartfelt, deep and painful tears that came from the depths of his soul. He cried asking, “Mommy, why won’t God raise Bailey from the dead like he did Jesus? He knew we needed Jesus and he knows I need Bailey.” With tears streaming down my face I just held him and rocked him. I kept telling him, “Bailey wouldn’t want to see you sad. He hated to see you cry. He cried when you cried. He loved you.” But, what should I have said? What am I supposed to do?

Pick up the pieces of a child’s broken spirit? I’m trying. We made a memory box that we will be putting words, thoughts, stories, memories and pictures of Bailey in it. There are so many things that munch didn’t know about Bailey. I’m adding to the box. Encouraging his dad to do so and trying to  ease my son’s pain.

He will never forget the loss. We will never forget. We just have to do the best we can in the midst of his pain. Co-parenting through death sucks. You have to live with the other parent’s decision even if you don’t think it is in the best interest of your child.

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I Care

I care for Sandra Bland. I care what happened to her. I want to know what happened to this young woman. I want to know if she did in fact take her own life or was she murdered. The questions are many and the answers are few, but if it was your child, your sister, your mother, your wife or your friend wouldn’t you want to know? Wouldn’t you want to know the truth?

Yes, you would. I’m no expert on jail house protocol, but I thought that jails have procedures in place to prevent people from hanging themselves? With a plastic bag too? I’m not saying that it’s not possible, but I think a full investigation of her death is warranted. Too many questionable acts of violence against my black brothers and sisters. We can’t take no more.

We do know that the FBI has joined the Texas Rangers in investigating the circumstances surrounding her death and that the arresting officer violated the department’s procedures regarding traffic stops and the department’s courtesy policy. He’s on administrative leave. According to the officer she was charged with assaulting an officer when she became argumentative and uncooperative. Umm, I would too if I was asked to get out of my car because I didn’t want to put out my cigarette. It’s not against the law.

Here is a clip of the video from the arresting officer’s dashboard camera:

Here is the video that a good Samaritan shot of the arrest:

The official video from the trooper’s dash camera leaves more questioning. No editing was ever mentioned and it appears to have been edited. How can people trust those in charge when there seems to be a cover-up? What happened to Sandra Bland? The LA Times author, Ryan Parker, discusses some of these seen anomalies by stating that:

In the video, which is more than 52 minutes long, there are several spots in which cars and people disappear and reappear. When it released the video, the Public Safety Department did not mention any editing. The audio ends more than a minute before the video images do.

One of the more conspicuous anomalies comes 25 minutes and five seconds into the video, when a man walks from a truck off screen and then reappears suddenly at the spot where he began walking. The image flutters for a moment before resuming. – Ryan Parker

Was she argumentative? Yes, as the video clearly shows. But, is that against the law? Is there a crime to be argumentative with an officer? No. However, did she deserved to be slammed to the ground? Did she deserve to hear the officers tell her “good” and “I don’t care” when she told them that she had a medical condition – epilepsy. No.

Here is a photo of Sandra Bland. She was 28. Let’s remember her. Let’s not forget that we need answers to her death. We need to know that there was no heinous and illegal acts of violence that were committed. I am my sister’s keeper and I am saying…we need justice.

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Until next time loves!

Happy Birthday to My BFF!

Proverbs 18:24 (MSG)

24 Friends come and friends go,
    but a true friend sticks by you like family.

So many birthdays are happening this year! Some of my best and dearest friends are turning 40. I turned 40 earlier this year and am thankful that I get to witness their celebration as they embark on their 40’s with me.

One of these awesome people is my best friend. We met at the age of 13 and have been through hell and back. No literally. We’ve fought, stopped speaking and gone our separate ways only to find out that we are the missing links in each other’s lives. True sisterhood.

I’m not perfect and she’s not perfect, but she encourages and believes in me in spite of everything I could ever do or not do. She is my rock! She was the main supporter when I was falling out and crying over my failed marriage. She just listened, wiped my tears and loved me more. Isn’t that what friendship is about?

I always swore that if I ever became rich and/or famous that I would never change because she wouldn’t let me. She would keep me grounded and remind me about my humility. She is just that awesome. So, welcome dear friend to your 40’s!

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