#Thisjob #Thislife

The fact that sometimes I just can’t get it together pisses me off. I mean, I know I’m source of inspiration for so many people, but lately I just can’t seem to find my own. #Thisjob and #Thislife seem to have taken my mind by storm. My judgement is clouded. I feel trapped. I forget everything ALL the time and most of the time I can’t even see the forest for the trees. I started writing this blog back in 2010. I posted lots of things I had written over the years and started writing new things too. I found it refreshing and it was an outlet to sit down and pen my thoughts, my feelings, my hopes and dreams, my then. Having the type of career I have, you don’t just go airing your laundry, dirty or clean. I wanted to honor the only portion of the “Code of Ethics” from my police academy days that I can remember. “I will keep my private life unsullied as an example to all.” And I remember feeling that part. Like deeply. I remember feeling like I knew that I could honor that. I remember knowing that I had no ill will and that I wanted to always find a way to show those with less than me that they could be more. I believed in that. I still do. I honor that feeling. I treat people with the respect their character and attitude warrant. I don’t violate anyone’s rights. I don’t lie on people or abuse them or take advantage or steal. I treat every citizen that I encounter fairly and justly. But my private life, it’s definitely not unsullied. It is not pure or clean or without foul or indecency. And honestly, neither is my professional life. You see, in order to do what I do well, you must stoop to a level that everyone understands. You must break down to its most basic form your ability to communicate, to reason, to operate. And you must do it to survive. In order to survive #thisjob and #thislife you must strip yourself of your sense of pride. You must denounce the notion that you alone can change the hearts and minds of your community, coworkers, and supervisors into hearts and minds that equally respect each other. You must decide what side you’re on even when neither side is right and neither side respects you. You must rid yourself of the idea that you might get to have a normal life spent with family and friends on holidays and special occasions. You mustn’t get sick or injured or take “too much” of YOUR leave. You must learn EVERY administrative rule and regulation and be able to recite as directed And you must do all of this while being moral, decent, and legal.

Maybe my life is sullied because I chose to try to believe in an organization that isn’t always moral, decent, or legal. It does not protect, or adequately and commensurately provide for its members. It does not cultivate or inspire, and it does not respect the people in its charge. And it breaks my heart to have given 8 years of my life to an agency that does not provide what it requires. My heart isn’t broken because I feel regret. My heart is broken because even though I know I’m not appreciated a part of me stills has hope that change is on the horizon. I hope that magically one day a new dawn and new regime will whip into shape what has long been broken and tattered. There was a time I thought I could be a part of that regime. There was a time where I wanted to be a part of the change because I knew I could manifest that change. Well, that time has come and gone. And because this organization doesn’t provide what it requires I can no longer risk life and limb and livelihood for a dream that was never really mine. I’ve had a number of ideas over the years of what I wanted for my life and career. I wanted to be a singer, and a lawyer, and an actor, and a writer, and at one point I even wanted to be Mayor, and while I did also want to be a police officer especially given the field’s rich history in my family, I never wanted to do it for my forever. As admirable a profession as it may be, I knew that I wanted more. The same more that I intended to show the less fortunate was possible. I still want more. I want to not have my voice silenced by policy or inferiority in rank. I want to defend what is right and good and fair. I want my life unsullied, but not because I’m obligated. I want to travel the world telling my story and hearing other people’s too. But here I am using crutches to walk, and nursing a concussion all from doing my job morally, decently, and legally, and not one supervisor, immediate or secondary has called to see if I’m okay. Not one has sent a card or email other than to require me to do more things outside of what is moral, decent, and even legal. And I’m not okay. I’m in pain, I’m frustrated, and I’m tired. I learned a long time ago, you don’t owe nobody more than you owe yourself. I’m realizing that again. #Thisjob #Thislife

Author: inmynativescribble

A Black man trying to face fear, the past, the present, and reconcile his future. Still. View all posts by inmynativescribble