It’s 2017 so Naturally I Decide to Uproot My Career

I wrote this post almost six weeks ago when I was about to embark on a positive change in my life. My computer is on the fritz so hence my absence since then. I was apprehensive about this move — the last missing piece in my effort to “live my stars” — but intuitively I knew it was the right decision for me. And now six weeks later even in the midst of this country’s current turmoil, I have never been happier. I like to think that being internally fulfilled will only enable me to make positive change externally. “Because when you’re operating from a place of wholeness and value, you see value in other people and you reinforce the belief that there’s enough to go around for all of us. So in this sense your self-worth is a service to humanity,” writes Danielle LaPorte in her book The Desire Map. Such power in that statement. Here goes…

Many folks have used the word “surreal” to describe the year that is 2016. I personally like the following quote a friend shared with me recently: This has not been a good year for women who try hard.

I’ll drink (and march) to that.

But for me, 2016 was a year of serious self-discovery. And although I wouldn’t necessarily categorize the vast majority of those weeks as a reflection of depression, most of those weeks really sucked (my elementary school English teacher would mar me for using that word but I can think of no better usage – okay maybe a few?).

Right before the actual election happened, I was focused on creative living and letting go of the things that inspired little to no creativity. I was also practicing self-compassion, allowing myself to be okay with feeling any kind of pain so that I could understand it and more easily bounce back.

There was just one problem. Continue reading

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From Here to There Yet Nowhere

When I’m in Louisville, Kentucky, on the border of southern Indiana, I see large Maple trees and gravel pathways lined with yellow patches of grass and fallen crisp leaves. A Beagle-Greyhound mix runs in front of me, sniffing at the brown speckled frog camouflaged by rocks and pebbles along the path. A man of 20, just starting out in the world, lights a cigarette nearby. And another man of 26 attempts to restrain the dog and keep her out of the way of the oncoming cyclist.

When I’m in Bethesda, Maryland, on the border of Washington, DC, I hear ambulance sirens and beeping horns of SUVs and BMWs. I sidestep an upraised brick in the sidewalk and bypass an orange cone of a construction zone, the latest in a series of luxury condo high rises. I pass by commuters listening to headphones and carrying laptop bags with their eyes glued to smart phones. I also attempt to drown out the noise of the city with my mood’s latest trend – this time dubstep. And then I move out of the way of an oncoming cyclist.

Belonging

More than a year ago, I made the move from Baltimore to DC. And four years before that I made the move from Cincinnati to Baltimore. And five years prior to that, I left my hometown of Louisville, Kentucky.

So exactly 10 years ago, a few weeks from today, I ventured from my roots with no plans to return. Of my two brothers and various family members, I have so far been the only one to do so (not including those who left before me). But what I didn’t realize then was what I would be giving up and what I would never be able to have again: a home. Continue reading