It's 5 am. The dogs are in the backyard running around. It's dusk, the sky a mix of blue and grey. I sip from my espresso cup as I write this.
I've decided to work on some things. Some predilections, addictions, obsessions, whatever you want to call them. It's still too early for me to talk about it. I'm afraid I'll fail. That I'll slide back. Especially with the world as it is.
These recent times make you want to do one of two things, change your life for the better to get ready for whatever is to come by getting your shit together, or what is usually my go to, just bury your head in the sand and indulge in whatever soothes the pain away.
I've watched tik tok videos about ICE for the last few days, my sleep uneven at best. I've been wrought. Anxious. Fearful. On edge. My mood up and down. One minute I'm freaking out about it all and the next I'm like, forget it. What's the point? I know I can't control this. I feel powerless, as if I can't do much of anything.
Then the other day, I had a young Latino kid in my courtroom, one who was beginning to change his whole life. I had gotten him released from custody to his mom on a release pitch and he was doing great. Obviously, our discussions are confidential, but our talk made me so happy. I was joyful.
Then that night, I thought of how many people, my people, are being grabbed, dragged and taken into detention where basic necessities of food, sanitation and water are being denied, and I wept. I wept and wept. Then I dried my tears and vowed to do something.