Should I even continue?

As I tried to wind down for the night, I just couldn't. 

The first thing is I forgot I had my sheets in the dryer, so I had to go get them and put them on the bed. I laid down and was hot from going up three flights of steps and then making it up. I heard my daughter come upstairs and had to make sure she wasn't looking for me. I should have stopped there. But because I picked up my phone, I went to my social media pages. Now, why did I do that?

It pains me to see what is going on in the world with my people, black people. Yet, it is hard to turn away from. Like when you are driving toward someone who has their high beams on. You have to make sure you are seeing what you are seeing is real and try to understand why they have not considered turning them off because it affects you. 

I honestly have so many things I want to say. But I will stick to the reason why I started the post in the first place. My son.

Jordan is a 15-year-old Autistic boy. He is not non-verbal but can not hold a conversation with you and can not correctly answer a question if he does not understand what you are asking him. Instead, he just repeats what you are saying. Two years after he was diagnosed with Autism, I have been looking for remedies to help him function better in hopes that he would become typical. To converse, have friends, carry a cell phone, go out with his friends, learn to drive, graduate at 18, go off to college, find a job or his career path, find a girlfriend, get married, have kids, grow old. Many of our young men, and women even, aren't being afforded that opportunity. Their lives have been put in the hands of persons of another color with "authority." Those who think they are God.

Right now, I am at a crossroads because I don't know what's worse. Raising an Autistic son or a neurotypical one. My son is oblivious to what is going on in the world. All he knows is Super Mario, YouTube, and food. He can make you laugh by his reactions when you ask him to do something he doesn't want to. He loves school and watching the Incredibles when his tablet dies. He is about 5'7' with a deep voice but skinny as I don't know what. He is sneaky, but one of the sweetest kids you will ever meet. Yet someone, well, let's be honest; a police officer will see him as a threat. They won't see the kid I have been raising for the past 15 years. The kid I have been with EVERY DAY of his life. They will react to him for what they have only seen for a few moments. How is that fair to me? How is that fair to any mother who has lost their son to nonsense? 

And now, I am placed in the predicament I am in now. To keep going with recovery or just say to hell with it because it may be all for nothing. The answer is, I will continue to work toward recovering my son. God placed this burden on me for a reason. If I were to stray from the path I was set on because of fear, something He did not give us the spirit of, it wouldn't show my confidence in Him. I will trust that the Lord has me covered, has my son covered. I am saddened by the events of the world, but I will not live in fear. 2 Timothy 1:7, "For God did not give a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind."

I know I do not have a big platform to be able to share my views and opinions with the world, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't say what I feel I have to say to show my support to my people. God bless.