I can hear Summer Walker’s voice echo in my brain while I sit down to write this. Honestly, I’m really trying to stay focused, but the past two pieces left me a little emotionally spent. When you release something that has been hindering your growth and development for so long, it leaves a bit of a void. Usually, I find something to fill the space immediately, but this time, I allowed myself to sit in it for a minute. I talked about it with others. I released some pinned up emotions and allowed it to come out in ways that I didn’t think would be healthy, but were what I really needed. I put myself in a even more vulnerable place and committed a part of these stories to be released for others to enjoy. This was the break I needed, but it didn’t come out in the way I expected. Either way, I’m grateful for the chance to express it. Let’s recap, shall we?

Thursday, I packed an overnight bag, and went to sleep with the intention of getting to work, purchasing a plane or train ticket, and booking a hotel once I figured out where I was going. Whenever I start to feel stagnant, the spontaneous side of me jumps out and throws me into doing things and taking a risk. I started in NY and ended up in Philadelphia where I set my sights on resting my body, and releasing some feels. In true fashion, I had so many ideas of things I could accomplish and wanted to get done, that I turned it into work, but I didn’t let myself go overboard. I slept a lot, rode around with a friend and got drinks, had lunch with another part of my tribe and we had an amazing discussion and came to so many interesting realizations about our past selves and the trauma we experienced. I really had one major goal and that was to create something. I wanted to stop putting things on hold and create something that I was proud of, so I recorded a short spoken-word album, which would serve as a prelude to the music and writing I plan to release later this year. Mind you, this has been a goal of mine since about 2012. Not sure why, but now seemed like the perfect time to commit to finishing it. For hours, I sat in my hotel room and recorded things I’d written over a span of 12 years that dug up so many memories and emotions, from coming out, the death of an ex-boyfriend, break ups, sex, love, you name it. I committed it all to a space and named it what I wanted to. I created my album art, and collected the writings to pair with the audio for release in the next few weeks. I shared pieces and got feedback. Then, I just sat there awestruck. I set a goal for myself. I took time out of my already busy schedule and did something that I promised myself I would, and it felt great.

Until it didn’t.

Here’s where the honesty comes in. I started to ask myself so many daunting questions and once I started, the questions began to snowball.

What in the fuck was I doing that was so important that I couldn’t devote 12-18 hours of my life to accomplish a dream? Where in the fuck had I been? What was consuming so much of my time, that literally taking half a day to work on something was too much to do? What was so important to me that fulfilling one of my own dreams wasn’t? What do I have to show for this sacrificing?

Yikes! I spent the late part of my 20’s and early part of my 30’s being whomever someone wanted me to be because that’s where I placed my value. I supported a lot of dreams and people that I thought needed me, while I put my own dreams off to the side. I neglected to foster my own creativity and let my energy for my passions die for the sake of a bunch of different shit, when the reality is, I didn’t have to. Here I am looking 36 in the eye, and I just came to the realization that I can work on my own goals and care about others AT THE SAME DAMN TIME. Who knew? It took me this long to recognize that my dreams actually do matter and taking time to finish them is not a selfish thing. This one thing that I really wanted, I didn’t value myself enough to complete. Shit knocked the wind out of me, until the final question reared its ugly head.

And now that it was done, who am I going to share it with?

Since my early years, I’ve operated under the assumption that I’d be somewhere happily married with a family by this point in my life, so I wouldn’t have to ask this question. I’d have fulfilled all of my dreams by now: Written and published the book, released the music, finished the doctorate, but alas, none of those things have happened. Don’t get me wrong. I’m fine with being single. It’s been over a year so I’ve gotten back into the swing of things and back to understanding what it means to be single at this age. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I would be a great gay uncle who travels and spoils his nephew, but honestly, I do wish I had someone to share this accomplishment with. I wish I had someone who would have pushed me to finish it so they could be here to share in it with me. I wish there was someone who I could look to and know they’d be proud of me.

All I could hear in my head when I was done was “Who you gonna share this with? Ole lonely ass.” Celebrating such a thing seemed so superfluous. Hooray bitch. You did a thing you could have done years ago, but didn’t. Then I was reminded of this journey I’ve been on, and how much it’s impacted my writing. The different experiences that I speak about were shaped by the journey. I heard the growth, the maturity, and the freedom in my voice. I felt the power of telling my own story. As much as I would love to share it with a loved one, I’m happy to share my narrative with me. Had I tried to do this years ago, I wouldn’t have the same story. It would have been crafted at an immature time, and it wouldn’t have had the same impact. I wish I wouldn’t have put this off for so long, but at the end of the day, it’s the journey that builds our character and I wouldn’t trade mine for anyone else’s. Now that right there.. That’s some shit to celebrate.