As I grew up, my mother was clear, "Don't bring no white person home."
She told me. She told my brother. Her warnings began before I ever considered having a boyfriend - and definitely before I considered inviting one to our home.
Some are born with the gift of gab, but I was born with the gift of wanderlust. Travel is ingrained in my blood.
My travel bug has always remained present, but it became more difficult to take on the extra expense once I transitioned into the world of adulting. Without hesitation, I made it a point to gain fewer possessions and more experiences the minute that I landed my first salary paying position, taking advantage of every holiday and every day of PTO. That meant taking every possible opportunity to travel, which was undoubtedly amazing.
Miscarriages weren't something I knew a great deal about before experiencing it for myself.
I knew other women who'd been affected, even those close to me, but to say I was naive about the depth of trauma that accompanies this type of loss would be an understatement. I can recall even minimizing the emotional impact of a miscarriage back in my younger years, ignorantly thinking it could be remedied by having another baby. I guess it's true what they say---self-experience is one of life's greatest teachers.
That's right, I was "terminated" from my six-figure a year employer that I have been with for six years. It is, by all intents and purposes, the dream job that society wants you to have and tells you to aspire to after college. You know, the type of job with full benefits, 401k match, high salary, bonus options, and stock options. Let's not forget the coveted title, which somehow replaced my identity.
