Mentorship

On March 10th, 2010, I found myself engrossed in a game of NFL Madden with my roommate, Ty, on the campus of Shaw University when my mom's call interrupted our intense match. Reluctantly declining at first due to the $20 bet riding on the game (equivalent to $200 post-college), I soon realized it must be something important as she called back. The news she delivered shattered me - Dr. Stanley Richardson had tragically passed away in a car accident while traveling to Jerusalem with his mother. He had mistakenly pulled out in front of a semi-truck, and both he and his mother suffered fatal injuries. My heart broke upon hearing this devastating news; I knew Dr. Richardson was why I was even on a college campus at that moment, and I would forever be grateful for his mentorship.

Dr. Richardson served as the director of the Upward Bound program in my school district, which provided crucial support to participants in their college preparation journey. This program offered opportunities for us to excel academically before entering higher education, and Dr. Richardson played an instrumental role in its success. Most counselors within the program were Black individuals who instilled hope within all of us - a refreshing contrast to the pessimism often presented by some White counselors at my school.

During those formative years, there was no discussion about pursuing a college track despite sharing my aspirations with them; instead, vocational paths were consistently presented as alternatives. In hindsight, while vocational skills have their merits, it is clear that college was where I truly belonged. Unfortunately, during high school's early stages, I failed to take academics seriously - getting into trouble occasionally and neglecting my studies altogether resulted in poor grades throughout most of my upperclassman years.

However, Dr. Richardson saw the potential within me that transcended those academic struggles we faced together and regularly discussed college life: campus experiences, fraternities, and relationships. Coming from a family with a strong educational background, I was already familiar with much of this information. Yet, hearing it from him felt different - his belief in me despite not being family ignited a desire to make him proud. Determined to turn my academic trajectory around, I began studying diligently and changing my habits - finally taking classes seriously.

Soon after, an opportunity arose for me to participate in a summer trip to the University of North Carolina at Pembroke. This experience allowed me to immerse myself in college classrooms and walk the campus grounds alongside actual college students attending summer classes. It was an exhilarating and inspiring time that made the prospect of higher education feel tangible and real.

One day, Dr. Richardson called me into his office with news he had received from Dr. Cynthia Graham - a woman from my hometown who worked at Shaw University overseeing a program called Freshman Academy. Coincidentally, this was the same program my best friend Ty had mentioned attending earlier that month; he had been encouraging me to join as well. Without hesitation, Dr. Richardson offered to cover my entry fee into the program, and before I knew it, that summer marked the beginning of my journey at 118 East South Street in Raleigh - Shaw University.

Throughout each semester thereafter, before returning home for breaks or holidays, I made it a point to visit Dr. Richardson's office first thing upon arrival so he could see my grades firsthand. It felt like an obligation on my part - an opportunity for him to witness how his investment of time and resources had not been in vain. During those visits, I shared stories about being initiated into a fraternity and recounted various experiences from college life itself.

Above all else, during those encounters with Dr. Richardson, I expressed heartfelt gratitude towards him for believing in me when others may have doubted or dismissed me due to academic struggles. I wanted him to know that his unwavering support had profoundly impacted my life. To this day, I hold mentorship in the highest regard and strive to pour into other young men who, like me, may need guidance and encouragement. I aim to make their aspirations feel tangible and real - whatever those aspirations may be.

Thank you, Dr. Richardson.

Rap Dreams

Hip-hop music has always been a source of inspiration and admiration for me. There's something about the art's unapologetic arrogance that I find liberating. It's the ultimate platform for your story, and rap artists do this with unparalleled rawness and authenticity. They speak of pain and suffering, resilience, and hope, and they do so with confidence and bravado that is socially accepted in the genre. It's no wonder that so many people use rap lyrics as captions under their social media posts; they want to hide their arrogance behind the lyrics of others. My rap dreams started early on in life—I used to always rap with my cousin Craig—who is exceptionally talented but, like many Virgos, gets in his own way. We would always sit in the car, listening and rapping to instrumentals—it felt good talking shit—and identifying with our favorite artists.

While the lyrics of money and fame were always inspiring, the lyrics that drew me in the most were those of profound vulnerability. I remember listening to J Cole's Classic Mixtape, "Friday Night Lights," and instantly relating. He told stories about his childhood trauma—his struggles as a young adult trying to make a way—and the grind it took for him to make it into the rap game. "Keep grinding, boy—your life can change in one year, and even if it's dark out, the sun is shining somewhere." That lyric still sticks with me to this day.   We as humans desire to connect—to relate to one another. It's an innate feeling that draws us into these artists. Just like those lyrics of arrogance, I wanted to express myself. Express my struggles, heartaches, fears, and insecurities, and the only way I thought this could be done was through the voice of rappers. Coming from where I'm from, this was the only form of expression socially accepted for Black boys. 

The acceptable practice of sharing your feelings over 808s spoke to hip-hop's influence on the culture. I remember my mother, a third-grade teacher, repeatedly played "I Know I Can" by Nas for her class before they took their end-of-grade tests. The song detailed how black people could do and be anything that they wanted to be. Influence and motivation by someone with a microphone—it was powerful. My rap dreams had me grappling with the chance of influencing a generation of people while dying to express my feelings—to tell the world how I felt without being judged.

If you have ever worked with an artist, be it a rapper, designer, painter, or photographer, you will undoubtedly notice the vulnerability that permeates their art. Despite their talent, artists often reveal their insecurities through their work, allowing us to see them as raw and unfiltered. In my case, I had the opportunity to witness this firsthand while working with my cousin Craig during the creation of his first album, "Indecisive Nature," back in 2017. As I followed him with my camera, I captured photos, videos, and raw conversations surrounding the content of his album. Through this process, I saw Craig in a way I had never seen before - vulnerable, exposed, and fully immersed in pursuing his rap dreams.

We spent countless hours in the studio together as he recorded, performed, and engaged in radio freestyle battles, which he won. We even traveled to other states for shows where he would perform and give audiences a glimpse into his fears, anxieties, insecurities, and unwavering desire to succeed. Through the lens of my Nikon, I was able to witness greatness in the making. However, as any artist will tell you, sharing your insecurities is one thing, but overcoming them is another.

As a photographer myself, I have experienced this struggle firsthand. When I started, I often downplayed my work by saying things like "I do photography" or "I do it on the side." Looking back, I realize this was a sign of my insecurity. It was not until I began capturing vulnerable and intimate moments of people that I fell in love with photography. My favorite shoots involve maternity, engagement, and modeling, as they allow me to capture my subjects' raw emotions and beauty.

However, like many artists, I struggled with self-doubt and a constant need for validation. I would often compare my work to others on social media, and the fear of not being good enough sometimes paralyzes me for weeks, if not months. I could not break free from this cycle only when I discovered the power of intrinsic motivation.

Intrinsic motivation is the driving force behind our passion for something. As a photographer, I've learned that relying solely on compliments and likes on social media is a recipe for disappointment. Instead, I focus on finding joy and fulfillment by capturing beautiful moments and creating art that speaks to me.

Despite my own unfulfilled rap dreams, I have found great satisfaction in becoming a licensed psychotherapist specializing in trauma-informed care. I also serve as an assistant professor of counseling—along with some public speaking. I often speak to and train individuals on trauma and mental health. Providing therapy to adults, children, and adolescents is a gratifying experience, and I firmly believe it is much needed in the Black community. In many ways, I am not too far from my rap dreams as I continue to use my voice to inspire and uplift those around me—or at least, that's what I tell myself. I saw the parallels between the rap game and me as a mental health therapist. Before becoming a therapist, I only saw rappers as clients—individuals hurt by the community and families from which they've come or abandoned by a justice system that has let so many of us down. The lyrics from storytellers like Tupac, Meek Mill, Lil Durk, and Kendrick Lamar gave us insight into their lives or the lives of many of my clients—me even. I never saw the parallel between a rapper and a therapist until now. 

Think about it—a therapist like rap artists have the ability and power to influence—they don't necessarily give advice but, through their own experiences, can provide direction—offer tools and techniques that help with the pain. Again, how many captions do we see under our posts from rap lyrics that remind us to put ourselves first—chase our dreams—and rid ourselves of negative energy? Their willingness to share what, in fact, makes them human allows us to connect to both our favorite artists and our therapist. No tool is greater than the use of Self Disclosure. 

The Hourglass: A Metaphor for Life

Life can be best understood through the lens of an hourglass. When you flip the glass over, time starts ticking away, and new sand doesn't reenter to give us extra hours, minutes, or seconds—it simply depletes. The sand seems to move so slowly that we often believe we have more time than we actually do. However, little do we know that it steadily and unforgivingly slips away. While new sand doesn't go into the hourglass, bumps and shakes can quickly deplete what remains. These bumps and shakes represent the choices we make that affect our overall health—stress, poor diet, lack of exercise, alcohol consumption, and drug use. It is crucial for us to be mindful of how we spend our time here on earth because every moment spent is a transaction—how you spend your time determines what you get in return.

Breaking Free from Routine

Many individuals find themselves stuck in routines they no longer desire—a job they don't want to work or a relationship they no longer wish to be in—while the hourglass steadily dispenses its sand. It may sound perplexing why people continue spending their time on things that no longer bring them joy or fulfillment; however, falling into routine is easy and comfortable because it involves doing familiar things. Unfortunately, this level of routine creates a cloud of fear that prevents us from taking leaps towards spending our time elsewhere.

Embracing Risk

Consider all the talented artists out there—the singers, painters, rappers, dancers—who possess undiscovered potential because their time is spent on other pursuits that don't necessarily allow their creativity to flourish fully. Many artists would likely tell you that pursuing their artistry won't pay immediate bills or meet basic needs like food and shelter; thus they place their passions on hold with hopes that there will still be enough sand left in their hourglass to pursue their dreams. How you spend your time is indeed a gamble, and those who embrace risk and take the leap are often the ones who succeed. I am reminded of a scene from one of my favorite Batman movies, The Dark Knight Rises, where Bruce Wayne is urged to take a leap of freedom without the safety rope attached to his body. Despite physical preparation, fear holds him back mentally. Similarly, many of us fear taking that leap without any guarantees. We don't want to fall—no one does—but those who are prepared for failure are the true risk-takers. Bet on yourself.

Intentional Time Management

 In my own life, I consider myself very busy; however, if you were to spend a full day with me, you might find my days surprisingly calm and organized. As a husband, father, professor, and business owner with numerous demands on my time from various sources such as text messages and emails flooding in daily—I have learned how important it is to be intentional about how I spend each moment.

My day typically begins at 5:00 a.m., which allows me control over starting my day before anyone else reaches out through emails or calls. The house is quiet as everyone else sleeps peacefully while I engage in activities that set the tone for my day—meditation, scheduling automated emails for later delivery when appropriate or necessary tasks arise unexpectedly—and even hitting the gym before preparing breakfast for myself and making healthy choices.

By 8:00 a.m., after dropping off my daughter at school with automated emails being sent out as planned earlier in the morning rush hour traffic doesn't faze me anymore—I can calmly enjoy breakfast knowing that I am ahead on water intake most days, too! While there may still be hectic days ahead of me occasionally—I have mentally prepared myself.

Throughout each day, I intentionally allocate time for lunch to sit and process my thoughts while enjoying a peaceful meal. I also make sure to arrive 45 minutes early in the school line when picking up my daughter, giving me an opportunity to catch up on any missed tasks or indulge in some reading if nothing is pressing. Afterward, we both head to the gym—my daughter goes into child watch while I engage in cardio or weightlifting. When my wife and son return home, we prepare dinner together before settling down for a movie or reading, followed by bedtime routines. Each hour is intentional, even during moments of rest.

Appreciating the Preciousness of Time

Time is undeniably precious; it should never be taken for granted nor underestimated in its impact on our mental state. While we cannot control all the obstacles that come our way daily, we can do our best to be prepared mentally and emotionally. Each of our hourglasses has already been flipped over, and eventually, everyone's sand will run out. Therefore, it is crucial that we live intentionally—taking risks and betting on happiness as we navigate through life's journey.

Remember: Time waits for no one; embrace each moment with purpose and make every second count!

One Year Later: Navigating the Depths of Grief and Seeking Peace

It's hard to believe that nearly a year has passed since I received the devastating news of my mother's passing. The memory of that moment is etched in my mind - the look on my aunt's face, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. My world shattered as I collapsed into her embrace, sobbing uncontrollably like a lost child. Grief, it seems, carves out an emptiness unlike anything else - a void deep within your chest that feels exposed to the world. People can see it, this gaping hole, and wonder how you manage to function with such an immense loss.

I recall a moment outside a grocery store shortly after my mother's departure when my wife glanced at me from inside our car. For the first time, I felt seen - seen for what I truly was: incomplete. Vulnerability washed over me like a tidal wave as feelings of loneliness and weakness engulfed me entirely. Losing a mother meant losing that sense of being cared for unconditionally - no longer having someone worry about whether you arrived home safely or if you were taking care of yourself properly. Those seemingly annoying gestures now held immeasurable value; I longed for her to scold me for not calling to let her know I had made it home.

In this past year, amidst navigating grief's treacherous terrain, I have learned so much about myself and others. As a therapist myself, I was familiar with the stages of grief - anger, bargaining, guilt, denial depression acceptance - but knowing them did not make traversing through them any less challenging or painful. Finding peace became paramount; without it, there was only darkness ahead.

Unfortunately, peace does not come with an instruction manual; its path must be forged through personal exploration and resilience. While still on this journey towards complete tranquility myself, I can sense that I am drawing closer. Signs of nearing peace manifest when intentional efforts are made to stay the course. For me, therapy became a vital lifeline. My therapist provided a safe space for me to explore and process the multitude of emotions that plagued me. She reminded me that it was okay to be sad, to need solitude, and she validated my tears and moments of weakness. In those moments, I didn't seek strength; I simply craved the freedom to be vulnerable and human.

I have also been fortunate enough to have close friends who allowed me the space to cry openly in their presence - an act for which I am immensely grateful. This past January, determined to reclaim my mind in this quest for peace, I began going to the gym daily - running and lifting weights as a form of release. Reading became another refuge; I devoured books with an insatiable appetite - currently on my fifth book while also writing two of my own.

Intentional habits were formed along this path towards peace: running when feeling down, reading when thoughts wander astray, reflecting on cherished memories while planning out each day's emotional navigation strategy. Importantly though, I grant myself grace and time when sadness engulfs me; rather than avoiding or suppressing it, I acknowledge its presence as a passing cloud rather than one of permanence.

One step at a time has become my mantra throughout this journey of grief. Every day presents new challenges, some days allowing me deftly dodge grief's jabs while others leave me reeling from its blows. Yet no matter how hard it hits, I always find the strength within myself with help from loved ones, to rise once more. My wife, kids, family, and friends extend their unwavering support, pulling me back onto my feet. One thing remains certain: each day, I remind my children that their grandma loved them unconditionally. And one poignant moment came when my daughter asked if I missed my mom. I replied with a heavy heart, admitting that I miss her every single day. Her simple response of "I miss her too" served as a reminder that grief is not an individual burden; it is shared and felt by those who loved the departed.

Grief is indeed a process, one that demands patience and understanding. Even after a year has passed, the journey continues - one step at a time