Youthful Life: X

" Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose or paint can manage to escape the madness, melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in a human situation." Graham Greene I started seeing a therapist three weeks ago, and it has been the best thing I have done for me in a long while. There is a serious stigma around seeking external help. Compound that general social aversion to addressing our issues with membership in communities where that notion is amplified (masculinity, blackness, first-generation American), and it is easy to see why so many people do not explore the idea. It was midnight one night, and I just decided to find a therapist, setup an appointment, and give it a go. There was nothing stopping me, and I had all I needed to able to do it. I spent the night doing research on what to expect, and it was still nothing like I had been socialized to expect. There was a couch, and there were notes being taken

"Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it."  W.H. Murray I cannot believe another year has come and gone. This year was one of the most memorable yet.. This post marks the 8th birthday of this blog.  857  posts, 1.25M words, and just over 450K pageviews  - it has been an absolute journey. I have learned a great deal this year about the world, about the people in it, and most of all myself. I am so grateful for this space to share my thoughts, express my feelings, and figure it all out. I don't know who I would be, or where I would be without this blog. It has kept me sane, grounded, and thoughtful. I get to be free here, to explore, and to wonder. I get to be bold, brave, and unapologetically me. I get to exist, resist, and persist. This place is my sanctuary, my solace, and my refuge. Thank you for sharing it with me, honoring it, and embracing me as I am. With that, I want to share my annual tradition of my fa

"Life and death are one thread, the same line viewed from different sides." Lao Tzu I write this blog post in memory of my adopted grandfather . I write this to mourn. I write this to process through my emotions. I write this as a thank you to him. I write this for me. As I type these words tears stream down my face. I breathe unevenly. I shudder under my own breath. I shake, my heart races, and my body caves into itself. I sit in silence letting the sounds of the world wash over me. I am saddened. I am distracted. I am distraught. I feel everything and nothing at the same time. The voice of my father telling me that my grandfather had passed away plays over and over in my head. I pulled to the parking of Best Buy and cried for 30 minutes to the point that I nearly threw up. Overcome with emotion, loss for words, and wanting nothing more than to just be with my family. Death is so final. Death is so decisive. Death is so poignant. One day a person is there, and then the

"Have no fear of perfection - you'll never reach it." Salvador Dali I am a recovering perfectionis t. I have spent so much of my life striving to be perfect, and by perfect I mean absent of mistakes, put together, and without flaws. I used to make mistakes and beat myself up about them when in the grand scheme of things they weren't significant to begin with. More and more I have strove to unlearn that yearn for perfection, given myself more grace, and been patient with me. I'm slowly but surely embracing being messy, silly, and less staged. I'm trying to be less calculated, less fearful, and less in my own head. I'm doing by best to be more accessible, relatable, and realistic. It's been a challenge to say the least but one that I'm becoming more okay with. I know that I am not perfect, and that idealizing the world, the people around me, and myself can warp your perception. I'm working to speak to others with more kindness, empathy, and