It was not an easy year by any means, nor was it a particularly difficult one. I prefer to be comfortably challenged. I prayed that I was past the dark years of the quarter-life crisis, such as 2012, but what I found was that if I was not careful, complacency would permeate my very soul.
This past year, I began my second academic year as a graduate student at Webster University, and for most of 2014, my life had taken on a sophisticated routine. The weeks went a little something like this: work as a graduate assistant in the School of Communications (SOC) at Webster, class, SOC, a closing shift at Saks Fifth Avenue (S5A), SOC, class, off day + homework, SOC, S5A, and more S5A, all weekend long. It was as if my life was an assembly line. 2014 would be the first year in which I voluntarily took classes every semester. That’s right, I never did the summer class thing during undergrad, partially because I was in no hurry to graduate, and partially because there was no actual need. Grad school is different; to me, it is ridiculously expensive, and it could turn out to be a waste of time if you do not play your cards right.
Effort.
I took the hand I was dealt which was full of mediocre face cards, that could either cause me to fail or triumph in the game of life. What actually happened? I aced all of my classes, and I met my sales goals. What I found unfortunate was that in the subjective successes, I failed at personal fulfillment. In years past, I found time for creative pursuits that mattered to me. I made time to go sit in the park and write a story, jot down ideas for new projects, reach out to other like-minded people, and explore career options outside of St. Louis. I consider myself a creative person, yet the monotony of my day-t0-day life overpowered my desires and passions in 2014. Aside from landing a freelance gig with Examiner.com, and completing a 31 day blogging challenge, I generally lacked the energy for such endeavors and found myself physically exhausted and mentally drained. I felt ashamed that my intrinsic motivation had vanished. How could I neglect myself like that?
To be frank, I had a lot of shit going on. Not only did I have grad school and two jobs. I also have an enormous family, a long-distance boyfriend, and a devout social life.I suffered from a shopping addiction because I simply could not pass up a sale. Oh, the woes of working in retail and always being in such a superficial environment. I’ll admit that in my living space, there are pieces of unworn costume jewelry, unopened cosmetics, and clothing with the tags still on; you would have thought I knew better. I guess I let all the good deals get the best of me and unnecessarily spent money. It happens.
As I went through the motions of everyday life, I began to view life as an obstacle course. Basically, everything that I was presented with this year, I began to approach strategically. There was something about turning 26 in June. It was a major wakeup call. It struck me that I had to comfortably be myself and that life left no more room for error at this age. I was to work hard and let fate take hold.
Balance.
I had no idea how important balance was until about mid-2014. Work-life balance, and so much more. My relationships with those I love are just as, if not more, important than work and it took me being consumed with work and school to realize that. I am not a slave. I am a human beingl. I realized that you can always attain more of the material things in life, and still have piss poor relationships with others and be an unhappy individual. I accepted myself and my mistakes, my favorable and unfavorable characteristics, and my idiosyncrasies. Those trips to see my boyfriend helped me retain the little sanity I had left after working 50-hour weeks for the greater part of the year. Interestingly enough, I had to balance myself, with the constant shift in environments. You know how St. Louis is, so segregated and fake. I hate that I let the pressure to alter my sense of self frustrate me in different settings. I got over that sometime this fall and began comfortably being myself.
Attitude.
A major attitude change took place this year. I ditched the idea, “it is what it is,” and adopted the idea, “it is what you make it.” Sure, the former has some validity, but with that validity comes acceptance of things that you may not always have to accept. There are two things that you do control: your actions and attitude. So, I made the best of things. A bad attitude never got me anywhere in life, nor did neglecting to act on personal complaints I had. Bitching about things that were beyond my control also got me nowhere.
Race.
My race is beyond my control. God created me a black woman, and I will die as such. I am proud and I have no shame in my identity. Nevertheless, 2014 was a tough year to be black in America. I’ll be honest. Monetized cultural appropriation, Ferguson, race issues, constant police encounters resulting in the deaths of numerous black males, and the removal of America’s mask had really depressed me this year. I felt so helpless against forces that others do not understand or choose not to acknowledge. So, I prayed, and I still pray, because as I am writing this, I am mourning the many senseless acts of violence that occurred this year, not just within the black community, but the in world at large. However, another black teenager lost his life, just before Christmas, to a white police officer in Berkeley, Missouri, a neighboring suburb to Ferguson. When will this madness end? Each of these situations has been very different and each victim has been different, but the message is clear– no one necessarily wants to kill another human being, but people die due to a culture of fear, a culture created by American history, a fear that stems from the ghettos of America, where ethnic minorities so often resort to a life of crime and/or violence due to lack of options, and a severe lack of hope. No one tries to help “these people,” because their lives have been labeled as less important since they were born. It’s like they were born into a jungle and taught the “every man for himself” mentality, thus inhabitants resort to going after material things as a means of success (a view shaped by the media) instead of focusing on escaping the toxic environment that keeps them enslaved. Modern-day slavery equals life in urban ghettos. It can be understood that the oppressor fears the systematically oppressed. It’s human nature to fear what one does not understand, but one cannot help but wonder, does the end result always have to be death? So how could anyone shame the #BlackLivesMatter movement, when people are finally standing up for their right to exist in America. It is a disgusting reality that many will never even begin to understand. Life is not fair. Thus, in 2014, I had to accept my identity and count my blessings. I thank God for my mindset, sense of reality, dedication to personal success, and passion for writing to inspire and enlighten others. Sure, the world is a cesspool full of demons, lost souls, and awful people, but for my own sake, I had to learn to focus on the positive. Many people are good. There are great black men, honorable police officers, and great people. The beauty lies in the fact that everyone is different and equally important, and not everyone is racist. I will leave 2014 behind believing that the ignorance that has seized our world can be cured with knowledge and compassion.
Style.
At first, not caring how I was perceived by others was difficult. Eventually, I expected everything from smiles to dirty looks, from compliments to subtle disses, and from first impressions of comfort to intimidation. I can probably count how many times I wore a dress and/or stilettos in 2014. I rarely kept a decent manicure this past year. I am the girl next door. I learned that no matter how much lipstick I put on, my cosmetic addiction cannot free me from my tomboy nature. It is fact. I may just be a pretty rebel, a bit of a man repeller. Denim and leather are staple pieces for me. I have purchased the Steve Madden ‘Troopa’ boots in black a total of three times. I literally dress how I feel. Let me rephrase that last statement, because I imagine that by now you have already pictured me as a girl who feels like an actual war veteran who owns a motorcycle. I use fashion as a form of self-expression. I like to tell my own story, and for me, every day, is a unique story. On rare occasion, I will embrace my femininity and rock a dress (typically bodycon), but I am more comfortable in skirts and tops. Dresses are easy. Pairing separates are a way for me to get creative. A conversation I had with my boyfriend earlier this year summed up my actual style. He said, “I picture you wearing pink and pearls.” I replied, “No, you must not know me, because I prefer purple and diamonds.”
Persona.
I’ll admit. I changed my approach. I had to figure out how to gauge confidence with humility, without appearing like I was trying too hard. Until I reached my mid-twenties, others’ opinions of me took precedence. I recently received a revelation that advised me to be someone I would like to have in my life. In 2014, I learned to be the friend I would want to have, the mate, I would want to date, and basically every other manifestation of an ideal relation to someone. I could not go wrong, right? I did this by placing higher expectations on myself, and virtually none on other parties. This is something that I found very difficult, yet necessary to achieve happiness. I did not rely on the approval or validation from others, and I was generally less disappointed in people. It is very simple to say, but much harder to do, because the first step is to judge no one you encounter. The second step is the empathize. I have discovered that for most people, the latter of the two always seems to be the greater challenge.
The battle against monotony and complacency would commence in 2014. The battle was won, but the war is far from over.
In 2015, I will have to write my thesis, graduate, and get the hell out of St. Louis. Those are my short-term goals. I’m sure I will create a category on this blog specifically for venting about how I hate my life as I write my thesis. Graduation is always bittersweet. I view graduating from grad school as a second chance. Come on, can I really fail after attaining a second degree? Sure I can. Fortunately for me, that is not an actual option.
xoxo
Happy holidays!
Kendra is Xclu 