- I thought a great deal, as I often do, about just how lucky I have been to escape the gravity of my hometown Lubbock. Growing up, I always felt lonely, through a combination of a protective parent trying earnestly to prevent her young Black son from being in the wrong place at the wrong time and through my own conflicting views on what constitutes friendship. I have long been the type of person to have only a very few close friends and I was content to spend my time either gaming, reading, or just generally thinking. I would learn early that my ambition far exceeded my reach in this hamlet and that if I ever wanted to really reach my dreams, it would behoove me to relocate.
Ironically, the street names I would pass on my way to school in Lubbock referenced other schools and cities (Indiana, Utica, etc.) and provided an excuse to consider life in another zip code; this practice has since been changed to honor local heroes such as the Marsha Sharp Freeway. However, I'd wager that it is impossible not to consider how green the grass might be elsewhere in a city of 200,000+ built on the foundation of environmentally hostile cotton growing and with a Republican power base predicated on moral and historical authority.
This is not to criticize the many people whose paths I've crossed in my purgatory in Lubbock who still reside there. One lesson I've learned personally and professionally is that what is acceptable, normal, or sacred to one isn't necessarily for another. Many people I know have been content to establish families and careers in Lubbock and power to them. For me, though, I found Lubbock to be a place where dreams rot on the vine and I'm forever grateful for Pittsburgh for wresting me from its grasp and allowing me to live and die, soar and fall, on my own merits.
- In my personal and professional life, I've often served as a sounding board, a shoulder to cry on, or an advocate for my friends and colleagues. It can absolutely be emotionally draining and difficult to be available for others when time and other commitments leaves no room for oneself. I've tried to maintain my sanity and happiness by doing three things daily: doing for my space, my significant other, and myself.
It's of course unrealistic to expect that these goals are met every day, even with the help of calendars, charming notes left on bulletin boards, or even the best of intentions; but every day when I come home, I try to find at least one chore to complete so that the house doesn't evolve into some sentient mass of food encrusted dishes and ultra white paint. The intensity of the chore, of course, changes with the type of day I've had at work; sometimes, I'm content to just do a load of laundry and leave it at that, and this past Sunday, I reorganized our entire linen closet into a shrine of folding styles.
Of course, my relationship with Chavonne sustains me beyond anything else and catching up with my best friend is something I look forward to. Sometimes, simply sitting down and engaging (or commiserating) about our work is enough for us and others, we enjoy a board game together or even some video games. However we make it happen, Chavonne and I always put one another first because we make one another live.
Ideally, I enjoy some down time for myself to collect my thoughts, push aside negativity, or put events in perspective. Nowadays, that happens most often in my car on the way home. I consider what I've said, or left unsaid, and I dread my work for the next day. Often, I call home to ingratiate myself into the perspective of someone else and then return to my life with fresh eyes. Although I'm not able to game as much as I like anymore (and I expect this trend will continue until graduation), rarely I'm able to fit in an hour or so of level grinding or some less intensive puzzling or the like. In social work, where you confront some of the most bleak and lightless situations, it's vital to have a sanctuary of heart and mind to turn to.
I'm so glad you're back to blogging. You are the stongest, best person I know and I'm so proud of your hard work. If I didn't have you to come home to, my life wouldn' make sense. I love you.