2020 was a Whole... I'm done talking about that mess.

So it’s been awhile since I was last on here. I haven’t stopped writing, more on that later. I just got tired of thinking about 2020. It started as a fun and therapeutic exercise. I don’t regret what I’ve done so far, however as much as I felt it was needed, I won’t be doing it again. 2020 ended on a great note: new job, feeling 100 percent better mentally, emotionally, and physically, my family is doing great, and I was entering into what I feel is a new creative moment in my life. Everything that happened up to that, I rather not dwell on it. It’s heavy and takes away from the joy that is the now.

So’s that’s that. 

So what HAVE I been doing? Besides work, doing the best for my family, reading a ton of great comics, and busting folk’s backsides in Call of Duty, I’ve been writing. “Why hasn’t it been on the site?” Well, ummmm…. That’s a great question. There isn’t any reason for it to not have been here. Last week I thought about this and decided to make a change.

I’ll be adding all the content, “Today in Black History Month in Comics..”, I’ve written on Facebook and bring them over to Kofijamal.com throughout the next few days. Originally I planned on doing a couple for fun. People enjoyed them and it’s fun to work on, I decided to keep going Monday through Friday and it’s been a blast to do. I love that people have gravitated towards them, plus it gives me a chance to talk about what I love; superheroes and comic books.

Thanks for stopping by, have a great day and an amazing week. I plan on doing the same.

2020 Was a Whole... Part 2: Covid-19 and His Raggedy Ass.

This is the second in my series of posting on the year that was. While my year did start off with issues, I want to assure everything that 2020 was not as a whole a bust or terrible. However the facts are that we it was a most unusual and challenging year. And to not address it, and how we found victories in it, would be a disservice to us.

The Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter of Covid….

As I begin this entry, there have been 92,879,513 confirmed cases of the coronavirus COVID-19 in the world. And 1,989,118 deaths in that time. In the United States of America, 23.1M cases and 385K deaths have been reported. In the state I live in Maryland, 315K cases and 6,404 deaths. Looking at Baltimore City, 34,699 cases and 752 deaths. As of January 14th, 2021.

I gave these numbers to hammer home how serious Covid has been in 2020. This one thing impacted and changed everything in 2020, EVERY SINGLE THING. Doesn't matter who you are, your social status, occupation, name the demographic, we all have felt the impact of this. Lives were changed, uprooted, and altered forever. Even if you hadn’t caught the virus, everyone was touched. I was no different than anyone else.

My earliest memories of Covid was reading about what was happening in China. And like many Americans, my first thought was this is another situation that will come and go. I wish them the best, Positive Energies, and all that good stuff. However more disturbing news came out. I gave it more attention, but at the time my son was my only real focus. Soon we heard of it spreading and when the numbers of deaths started to come out, I felt this was going to be much bigger than what I had thought.

While I focused on my family, I (wrongly, and frankly I gave them too much credit) assumed the Government would be paying this much more attention and prepping for it. WRONG. I would watch the news and see our (the US, I don’t mean to insult any International readers) Government act like bad guys in a bad 80’s horror film. At best the Mayor from Jaws (and Jaws 2, how he stayed the Mayor after the first film… Yikes.) I felt it was important to keep us informed, but not in panic. Listening to friends who are in the medical field, know what they are talking about, and understanding how viruses work, I braced for the inevitable.

We had just picked Noah up from the hospital. Our Lyft driver was a very nice woman and I was struck with how powerful the smell of Lysol was. She apologized for the smell and me, my wife, and son all thanked her for caring about us enough to spray. We laughed and joked the whole time back, talking about Covid in a way to not alarm Noah, but it didn’t matter because he understood everything we said and had some smart insight himself. As we were being dropped off, she apologized again. This time for spraying as soon as we got out, which we laughed at and said, “No please do!” After that moment, Covid because as much a part of our household as the TV, Xbox, and uneven creaky floors.

Like the rest of the US, my job was slow on the uptake in dealing with and handling Covid. I can’t get into specifics or great detail because of HIPAA Laws (and out of respect for people I’ve worked with & for), but I will say that at times it felt like those who were “Essential Employees” were given the shortest in of the stick. A nurse left Sheppard Pratt and shamed them on Facebook before we were allowed to wear masks. The school I worked at shut down, now all the students were on the units 24/7. That posed several sets of problems as far as teaching and general order of things. Staff found themselves at odds with leadership and at times each other. AND Covid flexed in our program.

It’s a simple science: The youth are in a locked door facility. The only access to “outside” is either if they have sign outs back home, when the program goes on outings, and when they come in contact with us. This isn’t to place blame on the staff, many people did their absolute best to be safe and careful at a time many of us had little real information about Covid. However when a unit had cases, I felt that the people in charge would form a plan of action that would be swift and secure. Not the case.

I would go into work and deal with youth who wouldn't conform to the rules of safety, even though it was to protect them. Masks would not be worn, youth would still spit on us, at a time we didn’t have enough PPE to go around. I recall before it came to the unit I worked on, there was a staff call for a physical altercation. We came down to the unit, however we didn’t have any PPE to wear. Because of that, more than a few times we wouldn’t be able to assist our coworkers.

Then with the rise of Covid in the program, there were staff who either refused to follow the CDC guidelines on being safe (social distancing, wearing a mask when in public, etc.) or, when they found they were working on a unit that had Covid cases, would walk out or refuse to work. On one hand I understood the frustrations of my coworkers and friends. We were learning more about Covid daily and there were so many unanswered questions. On the other hand, I felt that being a “team player” only went so far. There were times I was left to deal with situations that needed more than just me. I felt horrible for my coworkers who would get sick and everyone knew it was because of this job. Rarely did I feel that it was a clear cut answer on if someone's actions were good or bad. It was a spectrum of issues, reasons, and causes. I just figured I’d do the best I can before I could do no more.

Outside of work, everything stopped for me. There was no hanging out with friends. I had planned on having one of my best friends come over for every AEW Wrestling PPV. That stopped after one PPV (the invite is still open once everything chills out). I would tell people that they should “forget the summer, forget the fall,” just forget whatever holiday they were looking forward to. Everything would be closed. I was right. One of my FAVORITE things are the Comic Cons I and the crew at Art Way Alliance would attend. It was a way to see friends who lived far away, and also I was able to teach, and make money from my art. With Covid, that was gone. There was no sadness at first. By no means my happiness is more important than anyone’s health. However, at times I’d wish I could look up and see a friend making a sale, or find us laughing at some random bit of pop culture.

At home we developed a tight ship. Shoes were left outside of the apartment. Whenever I came home from work, I would strip off everything to my boxers and shirt, (yes some folks got a show), and place my clothes in a plastic bag. Then when full it would be washed separately. When we bought anything into the house from the outside, it had to be wiped down. EVERYTHING. And soon we’d just empty boxes of things we didn’t need to save time and valuable cleaning supplies. Home was literally the one place I felt “safe.” Given what we all were dealing with, that was the major house rule we had. Home would not be a place of stress. I like to think we succeeded.

When friends and coworkers would talk about doing things in the future, I’d often reply, “You can cancel that.” People expected things to “slow down” or stop by a certain date or time. Summer vacations, the start of school for children and college, Halloween, Thanksgiving… “Cancel it, nothing is happening.” I wasn’t being a pessimist, I was being a realist. When you have a Government totally half-assing this situation, people ignoring the CDC's advice on how to stay safe, many more believing what they see on YouTube, and the lack of items and PPE for companies and citizens to be safe, there was no way this would be over in time for your favorite event. And when you are doing the right things, I found it hella hilarious when you can’t get to do what you want. 

But people be people, and they stay peopling.

Fast forward to 2021: Eventually the stress of Covid at work led to me leaving my position at my job. In a few ways, Covid actually helped me in it’s sick way. It’s far to say that without it, I might still be at my old job and have not moved on to where I am now. We are still treating Covid seriously, when work has a potential outbreak, the clothes will still be removed. Things are wiped down when they are brought home. And I have made a point to not be around anyone unless I have to. This is the hardest thing for me. I’d often get invited to go to concerts or parties, get togethers, and the like. I’d much rather be at home. “I’ll go to the next one. Tonight I’m tired, but later on I will…” Now I can’t, and I miss my friends and Fam. 

We are still dealing with Covid and the numbers have risen since I started this. Late December I received my first Covid vaccine shot. Unlike what some may have been told on YouTube, I have not gained any superpowers, I did not grow wings, and I haven’t gotten sick beside my arm being sore like with the flu shot. I am hopeful that 2021 will be a huge pivot with this pandemic. I do not want “normal” back, as “normal” did not prepare us properly for our current state. I do want for us to be free...to live our lives and be with our loved ones without fear. 

Be safe everyone.

Next: I love my job, but it doesn’t love me...

2020 was a whole.... Part One.

I sit here in the break room of my job, my 9 to 5 (today 3 to 11:30) that pays my bills, and instead of enjoying this Subway sub and getting reading for the evening, my mind is on 2020. 2020 AD was to have been the year a lot of things I’ve been working on sprung to life and I’d have the success I’d dreamed of. When people would know me for the talents and skills I have versus “the guy that draws really good that should have a comic book out.” The year I let go of old fears and embraced new change.

Supposed to have been…

Truthfully, I was still stinging from the passing of my Uncle Gary. I swore I was doing a good job in processing and understanding his death, I wasn’t. Secretly, I was scared of this future without him. Granted we didn’t talk on the phone often (a family thing as we all are great at keeping inside our turtle shells) and the majority of our communication was done via Facebook, I always felt good knowing my Uncle could be found and at any moment I could reach out to him. And that was now gone. With came the very stark reality that I’m looking at less time on this planet than more time.

It hurt, I still hurt, saying goodbye. Saying “until next time.” I always said proudly that since my Grandparent’s passing I am mentally ready for all my loved ones to leave. And that, Maury told me, was a big ass lie. I couldn’t finish my statement at my Uncle’s memorial without breaking down. I left Washington feeling baptized, renewed and refreshed, yet there was that part of me that missed that “goodbye.” And no videos, audio, or pictures of his last weeks could replace me sitting there with him.

So I entered 2020 with this bravado that only action heroes could muster up. I had stories written and in the process of being finished. I felt like this would be a great year. And for a short time it was. I believe it was. I honestly can’t remember anything about the start of the year save when my son had his first anxiety attack. I haven’t gone into details about it because I’m a private person and should someone crack slick about it, I may get extremely violent. However, what I say next, I hope that it may help another parent or guardian. As I never thought in a million years it could happen to us, yet it did, and I don’t want it happening to anyone else.

Noah was struggling in school. He often has highs and lows, his testing scores are always through the roof. Yet school was always a challenge at the time. His teachers said unlike last year, he really became isolated and withdrawn. Even from his closest friends, the very few he’d associate with. With his grades plummeting, we had a parent-teacher meeting. Not to punish, but to see how we could help him. I know my 8th grade was rocky, that time was rocky in general, so I felt I had an understanding of what I might be able to do to help my son.

The meeting started and ended extremely rocky, with Noah becoming more and more defensive and angry. After the meeting we all agreed to meet Noah downstairs while we talked to his teachers. When we went to meet him, my son was gone. I became frantic and worried for him. On a hunch I went home and found him trying to open the front door, which is a door we normally don’t use. We talked for a second and I noticed his eyes. Noah’s eyes were dark, completely dark. I didn’t recognize him at all. His body language was different and when I came close to hug him, he smelled different. Not in a stink or funk, he was another child and not the one I know and love.

My wife came in after and attempted to talk to Noah. He wasn’t listening and then told me, “You are always in my way.” I asked what he meant and he repeated it and explained, “You are in my way, I want to get a knife and kill myself.” I told him I wouldn’t let him and I loved him. Suddenly, Noah ran towards the cabinet I was standing in front of. In hindsight, I didn’t realize I was standing in front of what he wanted. And had he thought about it, he could have darted to above the refrigerator and get a knife much quicker and sadly might have gotten his wish.

I grabbed Noah and quickly understood this wasn’t my son and I need to go into “work mode.” At the time I was a Residential Resource Specialist at Sheppard Pratt Mental Health Hospital (or whatever they are calling themselves). At the Mann RTC School (or whatever they are calling themselves), my job was about deesculation and at times restraints. Right now, I attempted to calm the situation down, now it’s about stopping the situation from getting worse. I placed him in a hold, where I had one arm across his body and gripping him with both my arms, a Mandt Restraint. While she called the police, I held him. For 15 or so minutes. It felt like a whole day.

Soon we were in an ambulance and off to John Hopkins Hospital. By the time we got to the Children’s Psychiatric Room, Noah had calmed down and started to sound and look like himself. We sat and answered a variety of questions and I repeatedly thanked The Creator that I had “good insurance” from my job. Late in the night, Noah was admitted, a huge weight was lifted off my chest. I hated leaving my son there, however I knew it was the right thing. As we started our way out of the hospital, I drifted off to thoughts of my Mom. When she made the difficult choice to have me admitted to John Hopkins when I was 14 (or 15). What a Father I was, passing down my depression, anxiety, and anger. And this was only January.

The next few weeks were tough on us all. Noah was away from us and at times he liked the structure of the program, however he didn’t like talking about his feelings and missed being home with us. At work, I would bounce between my thoughts of him and doing my job. Feeling terrible when I didn’t want to visit him because I was tired from work. Days when I’d literally be physically worn down, I had to make a choice of going home and resting or seeing Noah and being exhausting the next day. After getting the help he needed, we decided it was a good time to come home. We rejoiced and were happy in the moment. Noah wanted to go to school, yet had hesitation over it. We assured him things would be fine.

I was at work and had just made a joke with one of my favorite residents (we aren’t supposed to have “favorites,” but yeah I had favorites) when I received a phone call from Catherine. She was frantic, telling me the school called the police on Noah and if we didn’t come down, he would be taken away. My supervisor drove me (I think, my mind was a blur) to his school and I went in expecting the worst. I went to one of his classrooms and it looked like an atomic bomb hit. As I stepped into the door I caught one of the teacher assistants, one who assured me that they would look out for Noah and had experience with youth with high anxiety, talk about Noah as if he was some monster. I would have addressed it properly, but I wouldn’t be able to address it in a manner that would benefit Noah or myself at the time.

I told me the short version, some child messed with Noah and he blew up. When I finally found Noah, he was talking to two police officers. I was then told that the child was messing with Noah all day, finally telling him to “kill himself.” Noah then decided to do that and destroy the room. Again we went to JHU, this time he wasn’t Noah but someone else. Constantly attempting to provoke me, the police officers, other drivers… Again we signed the paperwork and again I thanked The Creator for my insurance. This time I was worn down, I felt defeated in a way I never knew in my life. Again he started the process of inpatient treatment, followed up with outpatient services. I could care less about school, opinions of people who don’t matter, or the world; I just wanted my son back.

Fast forward to 2021: Noah is doing much better. He left the hospital just before Covid swept through the country. Noah has an AMAZING therapist, Mr. Adrian is a Black man he sees he’d like to be like in tone and temperament. He responds well to his sessions; he's growing more confident in himself as the days and months go on. Now in the 9th grade, he’s able to express himself in a way that doesn’t cause conflicts at home or in school. The “Year of Covid” has taken away his freshmen year, however I am glad the events of 2020 didn’t take away my son. Yes he has “teenage moments” and at times the fear of failure gets the better of him, however I wouldn’t trade him for anything. I see the growth within Noah and believe his bump in the road will lead to smooth driving for years to come.

Next: The Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter of Covid….

I begin this year exploring the year that was in 2020. Between the lows and highs, it was a year of growth. In between my blogging of things on my mind, I will examine this year and the ways in impacted me, the ones I care for, and us as a whole.

It's August 22nd, 2020 and I still don't have my flying car or supersuit....

There is no need to say, “What a year,” or “In these uncertain times,” or whatever catchphrase we’ve all heard before. Repeatedly. Ad nauseum. We all know what it is and has been. Anyone with a lick of sense knows how messed up this year as been. And yet we continue to stand and keep moving. That’s the best advice I’ve been able to give to people. You keep pushing. Keep moving. Don’t stumble because of the actions of some morons and don’t let COVID stop your spirit from soaring.

As for me, it’s been a struggle and a half. On a personal and professional front, 2020 has been full of lows with few highs. I’m healthy, my family is healthy, and for that I’m happy. I do have it better than a lot of people and again I’m blessed and thankful. I suppose if this was a film, I’d be at the part of Empire Strikes Back where I just heard Darth Vader tell me I’m not a Jedi yet. Wishing and praying my hand doesn’t get cut off by October… Wait, I should be listening to my own advice from earlier! How silly am I!!

Enough of that talk. It’s the 22nd of August and I have breath in my lungs and I still have the tools and imagination The Creator blessed me with. It’s time to stop sitting around and get moving. I have some drawings to share, some stories, and talk my junk. Instead of giving everything to other sites and such, I need to put all my energy into mine.

It’s August 22nd, 2020. It’s kick some ass.