Forever Is Now: Part I

How when I was seven, and unafraid of most things
we visited for the first time
in the muggy, humid summer
and I ran around collecting
the empty carcasses of cicadas
off of all the trees.

The brown dust of the cicadas on my bookshelf
nostalgia
bottled away in my heart.

But I am also thinking of the jar,
of the audacity of those empty brown shells,
of Gram’s words: They only live a day or so
with wings.

Why come out of the ground at all?
If when you emerge finally
wings sharp and iridescent
life as you know it
can be over in a flash?

Part of me heard Evan,
but part of me was already smitten.
Being with Aria made me forget
the world was dangerous.

What they do with you, they’ll do to you.
I love a good platitude.

My anxiety at an all-time high the last few months
every week, my world shrinking
to a minuscule collection of places
I feel safe enough to go:
the lake,
my house,
the WRITE! Center,
sometimes the Trader Joe’s on Lakeside
but only if someone is with me.

She is calm, deliberate with her movement
her body
held like a taut arrow.

When I panic, I stop being a girl
I become a thread unraveling
from some dark and blanketed expanse of time.

Aria holds up her hands and shows me
the subtle aftershocks moving through her body.

Mom and Dad make sure our backyard stays fresh
with all kinds of succulents, a wildflower garden
a big eucalyptus tree that hangs
over our patio table and chairs.

But nothing can soothe me right now.
I arrive home all itchy skinned, flushed.

I take deep breaths, repeating my affirmations
and soon
the beads of sweat dissipate

Dad is heated at dinner,
talking a mile a minute about the
“relentless attack on Black lives”
and how he’s so sick of the violence.

We’re both wearing all black
in solidarity

Evan never leaves the house without
a bold lip color.
Or some adornment.

I look down at my feet
noticing the cracks in the steps.
Even though they are tiny,
minuscule concrete rivers
they stare back at me
like gaping gorges.

So, for the next few days
I try, every day,
to face the front door.
To open it, to go back to the steps
and their ominous cracks.

But every time,
I get to the threshold
I forget how to
be.

How ever since the pandemic made its way to us
and all its little variants
and the wildfires the tornadoes
the floods
and the insurrection at the Capitol
outside feels
like a trap.

They told me what you
witnessed at the lake.
That would be triggering for anyone, but
especially for someone who lives with
chronic anxiety.

The next night
Mom had me start taking melatonin,
and later in the week
we went and talked to a child psychologist
who gave us some other tips for managing my insomnia.

PopPop Lou was killed
on a random Tuesday evening
a “hit and run”
was the official ruling, but
word on the street was that he had been
targeted.
I was too little at the time
to understand all the nuance.

And I am right back where I was before
my limbs, my eyes, my ears
my whole earthly body
prickling with a deluge
of terrible little
drowning thoughts.

As my eyes adjust, I see Aria’s name flash on the screen,
and my phone pings again.
I flinch, turn it on silent
and sit up to read the slew of texts.

And not to mention, my cohort of interns this summer
are all part of the alphabet mafia

And what the hell am I even doing on Ruckus?
Whose official motto is:
Get loud about what you care about, cause a ruckus.

A TikTok with a purpose—
a space for activists and advocacy/educational orgs
to share, build, and make a ruckus
about real-world issues and passions.

My profile (@OneAnxiousBlackGurl) is full of videos
where I splice together pictures of our natural world
and add voice-overs of me reading poems or quotes
about climate change.

And I know you resigned from your internship?
You didn’t want to talk to them about an accommodation?

In simple terms, Dr. Candace continues,
agoraphobia is the fear of fear.
It’s the fear of being in a place or a situation
where you might panic
in turn feeling trapped, out of control, or embarrassed.

Well, we’re going to take another look at your meds,
but more importantly we’re going to make
an exposure intervention plan this summer.
Over the next six to eight weeks
you’re going to face your fears one by one,
by starting small and getting bigger and bolder.

Hi, Sadie here. If you’re awake, then hello and welcome to what I’m calling ‘Dispatches from Insomnia Garden.’

I’m always posting content about anxiety and tips for living with it, or videos about the impending doom I feel about global warming.

Nowhere is peaceful.
Nowhere the moon glows is a respite.

The woman, identified as twenty-year-old Laney College sophomore Corinne May, was held for forty-eight hours in custody after being detained for “disorderly conduct” and “intent to harm an officer.” However, Ms. May denies these allegations and claims she was wrongly targeted for the color of her skin.

Ms. May has been thrust into the national spotlight and is in a precarious position, as local and national chapters of BLM rally around her case, and local authorities refuse to comment.

Self-care is also resistance.
I repeat it out loud, like a mantra.

And then there are
the handful of DMs I get from other young Black people
all over the world—
who, like me, turn to social media for connection and support.
Who feel alone and scared in their mental health journey
but also contain so much joy
and resilience.

I can smell the Town—
full of that
minty dirt odor
the smell of home, and summer
and California earth
teeming with treasure and tears.