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My Name is Lisa S. Curry

I’ve been called whore and bitch, crazy and psycho, ugly and unwanted. None of those descriptions suit me. The kindest thing I’ve been called, outside of my own name that is, is Lisa Scurry. It’s close enough to my name, and the negative connotation it once carried no longer bothers me. It was a group of adolescent teens that gave me the name, after some boy took a picture of me rushing through the school hallway with the back flap of my skirt up, my ass exposed.
Funny though: that name which once hurt me also made me famous. In one week, I went from being the ignored student to the one everyone knew. And, well, even though I didn’t relish the idea of my backside being shared on social media, the guys LOVED it. They loved talking about Lisa Scurry, betting on who would be the first to have Lisa Scurry, attempting to write sonnets for Lisa Scurry. Sad for them that not one of them deserved the attention of Lisa Scurry attention, so I didn’t provide it.
As already mentioned: I wasn’t the whore they hoped I would be. I was a girl catapulted to fame by an unfortunate turn of events. To clarify things: I’ve only been with one guy, I am a bit troubled but not crazy, and the one thing I could always depend on from my mother was her good looks. My name: Lisa S. Curry!

My truth begins a long time ago with my father dying and my mother abandoning me for career. She wanted to be an entertainer, not a mother apparently. She didn’t send me off to an orphanage though; I didn’t go to one of them until my grandmother had died. Then to live with my aunt and uncle. I never hated my mother for her actions. I felt lost because of it, of course. When would I have the chance to see my mother in person? To hug and embrace her? To have a real fight with her face to face rather than on Skype. The real disappointment came when she didn’t show up for my son’s birth. My pregnancy was risky and I could’ve died; she knew that. All she gave me was one of her usually excuses. So what the hell was I supposed to say when I stood before her corpse at her funeral? She didn’t leave me with any good memories to say anything good. I made peace with myself. What I hadn’t expected, though, was that she would later speak to me from the grave to deliver the greatest treasure anyone could hope for. Maybe she did love me after all.

Every young adult has to start living their life. We have to figure out how to do for ourselves, how to survive. If we’re lucky, we have a parent around to help us out from time to time. With both my parents in the grave, and a newborn at home, I had to learn to be strong and independent. Well, I did have some help. My cousin Samuel. He offered me a place to stay when I didn’t have one. He became the father figure in my son’s life. But he had a life to live, and I had a life to fix. I did my best searching for work— not minimum wage places like I was used to. I had a degree by then and a sense of self worth. Apparently, that ain’t enough though. Countless applications, numerous interviews, many rejection. What the hell does a person have to do to get a good job? They give the impression in school that hard-work and diligence pays off. So far, I’m not so sure. Go get a degree they say? It may be a waste of time and money, I say, not unless you’re going to get a masters. But when life happens, studying has to take a backseat. When you have a crying infant at home and bills piling up, there’s not much time for learning. Some have said that our generation is lazy, but that ain’t true. We’re trying to figure out how to make it in this fucked up world/system our parents and grandparents have destroyed.

Okay, so I’m not going to lie: I’ve made a mistake or two. It’s no secret that I stayed to myself as a teenager and during my early years of college. Guys followed me and wanted me; I didn’t have time for them. I wanted a love I couldn’t have. But then Matt came along. Matt Gunther. His alluring eyes and seductive touch. He provided the love I had been missing. Or so I thought.
Love or Passion was the topic of our relationship. He did for me what I felt I needed at the time. When I felt alone in the world, misunderstood, he made me feel a sense of belonging. For all the years my life had been devoid of excitement, he made up for it by exposing me to new experiences. My sheltered past was temporarily forgotten through the many adventures he took me on. For a short time, I even lost my sense of ambition as felt that being held in his arms was all I needed.
One Valentines, he took me to a place where many tables had either a bouquet of roses or a uniquely crafted candle on it; only a few were bare. I walked through that dining room wondering what I’d find on ours. The candle, a symbol of the fiery passion between us; or the rose, a symbol of our soft, tender pedaled loved. There was a candle for me to take home. Later that night, as I attempted to watch a movie, Matt caressed me with his hands and kisses, his soft lips trailing from my chin to my breasts to my abdomen. He didn’t stop there, he removed my clothes. “Matt, I just want to—“ He pressed his lips between my legs arousing my passions. I thought to tell him that evening that we were already pregnant, unplanned accident of course, and that what I needed was a greater expression of love. The love of a family. What I got as I he glided his body over mine sending rhythmic waves down my spine was passion represented by the candle burning over on my nightstand.
1,370 Comments
July 27, 2022
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United By Love

Home was once the sanctuary I had built with my wife and two children. That changed several weeks ago when my landlord began badgering me about rent. “I’ll pay it the moment I get my check,” I had told him on numerous occasions, and he’d storm off. But as I set my eyes on the words Final Notice written on the envelop left on my front porch, I could tell that he’d grown tired of waiting.

I put the envelope in my pocket and entered the house.

“What’s wrong,” my wife asked when I walked through the door and removed my mask. Rebecca and I had been married for ten years. In some ways, she knew me better than I knew myself. No matter how hard I tried hiding my worries, she could see apprehension hidden behind my smile.

“It’s nothing,” I said, pushing the envelope further into my pocket.

“Christian, go play in your room,” she said to our youngest son, her unwavering stare on me. She ambled forward, her eyes examining me to extract the truth I attempted to suppress. “Did you run into Mark again?”

Lying would serve no purpose. I pulled out the letter from my pocket. “He’s demanding we pay or be evicted.”

“An eviction?” She said, looking as dumbfounded as I felt. She and I had brought our children home from the hospital to that house. Our best memories as a family had taken place there. It wasn’t just a building for us. It was our life. “We’ve always paid the rent. He can’t evict us.”

Rebecca was right. For as long as I could remember, I had kept a job, and I’d paid the rent early. But being laid off because of the Coronavirus meant money was scarce. “I told Mark I would pay him the moment I receive my unemployment benefits.”

She clicked her tongue. “This really pisses me off! You filed that claim months ago. You should’ve gotten the money by now.”

“I checked just this morning. The claim is still pending.”

“That’s not going to appease Mark. He wants his money! A pending claim isn’t going to keep us sheltered or put food on the table.”

We never used to worry about money. We knew that as long as I had work, we’d be fine. But then my work closed, and everything changed. Where we once had money, we now had apprehension for poverty, worry for hunger, and the threat of homelessness. “I agree with you, honey, but what can I do. I can’t control how long the claim takes to be processed.”

She turned in frustration and grabbed a bottle of water and a valium. “Rob, we can’t keep waiting. Do you want to be homeless? Call them again!”

I grabbed my phone and dialed the number. I no longer had to look it up. After calling South Carolina’s Department of Employment and Workforce for weeks, I had it stamped into memory. After about a half-hour of listening to soft music, an agent came on.

“Yes, hello. My name is Robert Goodman. I’m calling to find out when I’ll be receiving my unemployment benefits.”

“It’s taking us a bit longer to process claims, sir,” the lady said.

“So I’ve been told. But I processed my claim ten weeks ago this Friday.”

“Hmph. What’s your claimant number?” She did a quick review of my account before delivering the unwelcoming news other agents had said before her. “I see the problem. Your claim is still pending because you quit your job at Adler’s Clothing. Claims involving a resignation typically take longer. Often, they’re denied.”

I sighed in annoyance. Like millions of others, I applied for benefits because I was laid off from my current job. I had never quit a job just to collect unemployment. “Ma’am, I stopped working at Adler’s Clothing in January, before anyone had even heard of Coronavirus. Now you’re telling me that I may not be entitled to the money I’d paid into the system because I found a better job and resigned from the last?”

“Sir, I’m not saying you’re not going to get anything. We just have to hear back from that store before a decision is made.”

Rebecca came into the living room and tapped her fingers on the living room table. “What are they saying? Why haven’t we heard anything after thirty-five days?” The patience she’d shown a month ago had dissipated. Now, she demanded answers I couldn’t give her.

I threw my hands up in frustration. “I applied for benefits ten weeks ago. How long are you going to wait to hear from Adler’s Clothing before you process my claim? I have bills to pay. I can’t keep waiting.”

“Remind them that they said you’d know something by thirty-five days,” Rebecca insisted.

“I don’t mean to be mean. But I’m aggravated at the system. The last agent I spoke to said I’d definitely have an answer after thirty-five days of waiting. That day has come and gone.”

The lady sighed. “Have you applied for a PUA claim, Mr. Goodman.”

“Someone helped me with that a few weeks ago. I still haven’t received anything.”

She took in a deep breath. “I suggest you check daily and continue doing your weekly certifications.”

Speaking to her seemed pointless. All she could do was tell me to continue waiting, which by now, just felt like a soft way of telling me that my claim had already been denied. I thanked her for nothing and hung up the phone.

Rebecca said nothing as she looked at me. She could tell I was frustrated.

“What’s wrong, Dad?” The children stood in the hallway, looking at me with concern. Rebecca and I had always done our best to keep adult problems from interfering with their upbringing. We didn’t want this obstacle to be any different.

I pulled them into a tight embrace. “It’s nothing. As long as we’re united in love, we’ll always be fine.”

We’re living in hard times. Much of the world is closed down and many people are out of work. Some people, whether employed or unemployed, are fortunate to know that their bills are still getting paid; others are waiting for the day when some of the money they’d put into the system would come back to benefit them and their families.

States of Heart is featuring this story because of the hardship so many are going through. It’s a hardship that leaves so many feeling powerless. But it’s important that their pains are heard.

SHARE IF YOU CARE! 

2,341 Comments
July 18, 2020
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Praying for Light

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Home was once the sanctuary I had built with my wife and three children. That changed several weeks ago when my landlord began badgering me about rent. “I’ll pay it the moment I get my unemployment check,” I had told him on numerous occasions, and he’d storm off. But as I set my eyes on the words Final Notice written on the envelop left on my front porch, I could tell that he’d grown tired of waiting.

I folded the envelope into my pocket and entered the house.

“What’s wrong,” my wife asked when I walked through the door and removed my mask. Rebecca and I had been married for fifteen years. In some ways, she knew me better than I knew myself. No matter how hard I tried hiding my worries, she could see apprehension hidden behind my smile.

“It’s nothing,” I said, pushing the envelop further into my pocket.

“Christian, go play in your room,” she said to our youngest son, her unwavering stare on me. She ambled forward, her eyes examining me to extract the truth I attempted to suppress. “Did you run into Mark again?”

Lying would serve no purpose. I pulled out the letter from my pocket. “He’s demanding we pay or be evicted.”

“An eviction?” She said, looking as dumbfounded as I felt. She and I had brought Christian home from the hospital to that house. Our best memories with our oldest two had taken place there. It wasn’t just a building for us. It was our life. “We’ve always paid the rent. He can’t evict us.”

Rebecca was right. For as long as I could remember, I had kept a job, and I’d paid the rent early. But being laid off because of the Coronavirus meant money was scarce. “I told Mark I would pay him the moment I receive my unemployment benefits.”

She clicked her tongue. “This really pisses me off! You filed that claim months ago. You should’ve gotten the money by now.”

“I checked just this morning. My claim is still pending.”

“That’s not going to appease Mark. He wants his money! A pending claim isn’t going to keep us sheltered or put food on the table.”

We never used to worry about money. We knew that as long as I had work, we’d be fine. But then my work closed, and everything changed. Where we once had money, we now had apprehension for poverty, worry for hunger, and the threat of homelessness. “I agree with you, honey, but what can I do. I can’t control how long the claim takes to be processed.”

She turned in frustration and grabbed a bottle of water and a valium. “Rob, we can’t keep waiting. Do you want to be homeless? Call them again!”

I grabbed my phone and dialed the number. I no longer had to look it up. After calling the Department of Employment and Workforce for weeks, I had it stamped into memory. After about a half-hour of listening to soft music, an agent came on.

“Yes, hello. My name is Robert Goodman. I’m calling to find out when I’ll be receiving my unemployment benefits.”

“When did you make your initial claim?” The lady asked.

“It’ll be ten weeks this Friday.”

“Hmph. What’s your claimant number?” She did a quick review of my account before delivering the unwelcoming news everyone else had said before her. “I see the problem. Your claim is still pending because you quit your job at Adler’s Clothing. Claims involving a resignation typically take longer. Often, they’re denied.”

I sighed in annoyance. Like millions of others, I applied for benefits because I was laid off from my current job. I had never been the type to quit a job just to collect unemployment. “Ma’am, I stopped working at Adler’s Clothing in January, before anyone had even heard of Coronavirus. Now you’re telling me that I may not be entitled to the money I’d paid into the system because I found a better job and resigned from the last?”

“Sir, I’m not saying you’re not going to get anything. We just have to hear back from that store before a decision is made.”

Rebecca came into the living room and tapped her fingers on the living room table. “What are they saying? Why haven’t we heard anything after thirty-five days?” The patience she’d shown a month ago had dissipated. Now, she demanded answers I couldn’t give her.

I threw my hands up in frustration. “I applied for benefits ten weeks ago. How long are you going to wait to hear from Adler’s Clothing before you process my claim? My family is about to get evicted. We can’t keep waiting.”

“Remind them that they said you’d know something by thirty-five days,” Rebecca insisted.

“I don’t mean to be mean. But I’m aggravated at this system. The last lady I spoke to said I’d definitely have an answer after thirty-five days of waiting. That day has come and gone.”

She sighed. “Have you applied for a PUA claim, Mr. Goodman.”

“Someone helped me with that a few weeks ago. I still haven’t received anything.”

She took in a deep breath. “I suggest you check daily and continue doing your weekly certifications.”

My heart was racing. Speaking to her seemed pointless. All she could do was tell me to continue waiting, which by now, just felt like a soft way of telling me that my claim had already been denied. I thanked her for nothing and hung up the phone.

Rebecca looked at me and said nothing. She could tell I was disheartened.

“Everything okay, Dad?”

I looked up into my sixteen-year-old daughter’s eyes. Her eyes held a subtle sparkle that had always had the effect of soothing me. But not this time. I couldn’t be at ease knowing that the state I had spent years paying taxes to was penalizing me for leaving one job for another.

We’re living in hard times. Much of the world is closed down and many people are out of work. Some people, whether employed or unemployed, are fortunate to know that their bills are still getting paid; others are waiting for the day when some of the money they’d put into the system would come back to benefit them and their families.

States of Heart is featuring this story because of the hardship so many are going through. It’s a hardship that leaves so many feeling powerless. But it’s important that their pains are heard.

SHARE IF YOU CARE! 

1,793 Comments
July 17, 2020
Uncategorized

Why Can’t We Just Live Like We’re Dying?

WE’RE TAUGHT TO WORK AND SURVIVE, EVEN AT THE COST OF OUR HAPPINESS

WE MUST FIND TIME FOR A LITTLE HAPPINESS

Why can’t we just live like we’re dying?

Entry 1: Imprisioned by societal demands

What would you do if you were told you had just one more year to live? After the shock of inevitable death, you’d probably start thinking of how you could make that final year as meaningful as possible, and the last thing you’d probably care to do is work. If you have kids and a spouse, you’d likely want to quit your job to be with the loved ones you’d soon be leaving behind. If you’re single and without dependents, you’d probably reflect on the impulses you’d been too busy and/or broke to engage in (traveling, mountain climbing, bungee jumping, skiing, etc.) and finally venture out to experience the happiness and thrill you’d dreamed about.

Receiving a death sentence would be the stimuli that catapults many of us to venture out and finally experience life the way we’ve always wanted to; without one, many of us deal with the banal routine of our everyday lives. Why is it that so many of us spend most of our lives letting unsatisfying obligations get in the way of our dreams and happiness?

WE’RE TAUGHT TO WORK AND SURVIVE, EVEN AT THE COST OF OUR HAPPINESS

WE’RE TAUGHT TO DO WHAT IS SAFE, EVEN AT THE COST OF OUR HAPPINESS

We’ve all heard of the black sheep in the family—that member who grows alongside many others, never feeling like they belong, and always feeling the sting of being different and misunderstood. Well, there are also those who grow up in a place that doesn’t feel right for them and doesn’t serve their inner needs. The ideal setting for some people is a quiet, serene atmosphere, where they can focus on themselves, their inner needs, nature and their family. For others, the appropriate place is the city, where they can network, mingle with strangers, make connections, build a career and think of a family later. When a person finds himself living in a place that doesn’t support their likes, passions and inner needs, depression can be the result… they become the black sheep of their environment. I not only grew up as the black sheep of the family, I became the black sheep of my environment.

So why do people stay living in places that are not right for them if all it causes is despondence?

Despite its many shortcomings, there’s something that that place offers that isn’t easy to walk away from. Sometimes, it is work that prevents a person from moving forward. With the world being as challenging and competitive as it is, most people wouldn’t willingly give up a decent paying job to relocate without guaranteed income flowing in. Many times, it’s family that holds a person back: This could mean staying in a place one has outgrown because it offers a safe environment and good schooling for the kids. It could also mean not moving because of their attachment to their immediate family (mom, dad, siblings, cousins, etc.). Regardless of the reason, it’s not uncommon for people to die near where they were born despite their desire to leave because fear of failure often accompany thoughts of leaving, which are typically too great to ignore. I not only grew up as the black sheep of the family, I became the black sheep of my environment.

MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE: THE NEED TO SURVIVE HAS ALWAYS TRIUMPHED OVER THE NEED FOR JOY

I consider myself a city boy at heart. I was born in New York City, a place I never grew tired of. But at 11, my family moved to Bluffton, South Carolina, a small town that, despite its rapid growth over the last 2 decades, could never compete with New York City in size, culture, excitement or opportunity. I remember turning eighteen, dying to leave Bluffton and relocate to a city. But something kept me from leaving at that time: I can’t remember if it was the love for my family (even though I did feel like that misunderstood, black sheep), my mediocre job, my car payment, or just fear, but for some reason I decided to stay and attend college in Bluffton. I put my yearning for an exciting life aside. I worked, I studied, then I worked some more, because that’s what I thought I needed to do to attain a promising future. At one point, I had a decent paying job, but never the exciting life I wanted and needed to go along with it.

Then, as I shifted from one job to another, my scarce finances began to pose a problem. By the time I’d come to my late 20s, no longer able to handle low paying jobs and near complete dependency on my family, I knew I’d have to either enter the army or teaching profession.

That was when I moved five hours away to take a job deep in the country of North Carolina. The move brought me little ease and comfort because it was a place I never felt I belonged. I had hopes of moving to a place where I’d meet accepting people of different backgrounds, engaging in dinner dates, weekend outings and perhaps the occasional weekend travel. Finding love would have been welcoming too. Sadly, I spent most of my time alone.

I discovered that the only good thing about the relocation was my job. Not only did working as a teacher offer me three years stability, it put me in alliance with caring and supportive professionals, and made me aware of the hidden passion I had for helping shape the minds of our youth. But, neither the country, nor even the nearest big town that I live in, Wilmington, N.C., has never felt like home. There remained within me the desire to escape my reality, travel abroad and focus on strengthening my Spanish skills.

IT’S SO HARD TO FOLLOW THE HEART

I know I can go in the direction of my dreams and hope everything works out for the best but the cautious, responsible side of me says to take the safe road, find another job teaching and continue my writing on the side. I know that going back home would brighten up my life a little; after all, my family, whom I’ve been distant from for the last 3 years, is there. Still, I’m afraid that returning home now would mean I have to stay for a few years (due to work), and that thought frightens me, as I know Bluffton isn’t exciting enough to keep me content for long.

I’m left contemplating a return to Bluffton, or being daring and leaving out of the country where I would have a year’s savings to make my dreams come true. Leaning closer to playing it safe and returning to Bluffton leaves me to wonder: Why do we put our dreams and interests on pause in order to survive when taking the safe road doesn’t promise happiness or satisfaction? Why can’t I just have the strength and courage to follow my heart and live free, as if I were dying?

97 Comments
September 16, 2019
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Follow Your Dreams

DREAMS: ARE THEY WORTH FOLLOWING?

Everyone desires change at some point in life. Some want to change an unsatisfying job to a career that enables more independence, money, or recognition. Some dream of finding love, winning the lottery, fame, or maybe just having the time to travel. Whatever changes a person may covet in life, without action, those dreams will forever be a fantasy. Dreams seldom become a reality because not everyone explores theirs. Rather than focus on what could be, people focus on the hardships that impede them. With so many challenges people encounter every day just to survive, are dreams worth following?

THE EASY ROUTE IS NOT ALWAYS THE BEST ROUTE!

Life can be displeasing and challenging at times. Being denied one’s dream job, not being able to live in the house one would like, or not having the means to travel as freely as one wants can be discouraging. Sometimes, these shortcomings may make a person feel cheated by destiny and cause a person to wonder when fortune is finally going to shine on him. Finding a goal—a dream—in which one can stay dedicated to is key to success and future happiness.

Dreams are what our hearts covet the most. They give us something to look forward to the following day, week, and year. Since the fulfillment of our dreams could have such a profound impact on our lives, we should never expect them to come to us without effort. Sure, there are the few kid celebrities that have attained tremendous success in so little time, but they’re the minority. For most of us, it will take time, hard work and dedication to fulfill our dreams; yet, they’re worth it in the long run!

IF SOMEONE REFUSES TO GIVE YOU A CHANCE, FIGURE OUT HOW TO MAKE THAT CHANCE!

What mindset should a person have to attain their heart’s desires? Believing that everyone was born for a reason is a start. No one is put on this planet solely to take up air or space. No one exists to be a lifelong follower to anyone. Life is about figuring out who we are, where our talents lie, and in taking the necessary steps to bring those talents to the surface. Waiting for the job we’ve always wanted to fall in our laps is like accepting failure. Often, we have to prove to those who deny us what we deserve that we are worthy by using our unique skills to create the job and/or opportunity they’ve refused to grant. We are all born with individual skills and talents that make us unique, but until we force the world to recognize our creativity, we will continue to be overlooked.

DON'T GIVE UP ON YOUR DREAMS AND YOUR DREAMS WON'T GIVE UP ON YOU!

In life, we cannot be afraid to take a step back to get ahead. We see this all the time when college graduates, after many failed interviews, decide to take a job they could’ve gotten right out of high school. That was the case for Lisa Curry in my book, Shattered Heart. This unfortunate phenomenon is what accounts for so many college grads working in a field that has nothing to do with what they’ve studied. After a while, survival instincts kick in, and the applicant willingly takes whatever is offered or risk poverty. However, although working in a field that provides a job is the wise thing to do to survive, we must never forget where we’ve always wanted to be. Taking a step back or shifting our lives in a different direction should not mean giving up on our dreams.

BELIEVE IN YOUR WORTH AND NEVER GIVE UP!

So what can you do to make your dreams happen? When no one’s willing to give you a chance, you must take a chance! Find a niche and start blogging about it. Think about something you’ve always been good at (your talents) and set up a small business in that field. Print out and start handing out business cards. Get the word out on social media. Do what you must to produce the job employers have refused you while pushing forward and not giving up. Know that it will take time and effort before attaining success—in the end, though, it’ll be worth it to have made something no one can deny you or take away from you. The key is always to know your worth and never to give up on your dreams.

LET'S HEAR FROM YOU!

Do you think we’re put on this planet just to help someone fulfill their dreams, or should we find time work towards ours too? What do you dream of doing or becoming? What steps have you taken, or what steps are you willing to take, to get there?

107 Comments
July 10, 2019
Uncategorized

Live Like We’re Dying!

EPISODE 1: LOVE OR PASSION

WE’RE TAUGHT TO WORK AND SURVIVE, EVEN AT THE COST OF OUR HAPPINESS

WE MUST FIND TIME FOR A LITTLE HAPPINESS

 

 

Entry 1: Imprisioned by societies demands

 

What would you do if you were told you had just one more year to live? After the shock of inevitable death, you’d probably start thinking of how you can make that final year as meaningful as possible, and the last thing you’d probably care to do is work. If you have kids and a spouse, you’d likely want to quit your job to be with the loved ones you’d soon be leaving behind. If you’re single and without dependents, you’d probably reflect on the impulses you’d been too busy and/or broke to engage in (traveling, mountain climbing, bungy jumping, skiing, etc.) and venture out to experience the happiness and thrill you’d only dreamed about. Receiving a death sentence would be the stimuli that catapults many of us to venture out and finally experience life the way we’ve always wanted to; without one, many of us deal with the banal routine of our everyday lives. Why is it that so many of us spend most of our lives letting unsatisfying obligations get in the way of our dreams and happiness?

WE’RE TAUGHT TO WORK AND SURVIVE, EVEN AT THE COST OF OUR HAPPINESS

WE’RE TAUGHT TO DO WHAT IS SAFE, EVEN AT THE COST OF OUR HAPPINESS

We’ve all heard of the black sheep in the family—that member who grows alongside many others, never feeling like they belong, and always feeling the sting of being different and misunderstood. Well, there are also those who grow up in a place that doesn’t feel right for them and doesn’t serve their inner needs. The ideal setting for some people is a quiet, serene atmosphere, where they can focus on themselves, their inner needs, nature and their family. For others, the appropriate place is the city, where they can network, mingle with strangers, make connections, build a career and think of a family later. When a person finds himself living in a place that doesn’t support their likes, passions and inner needs, depression can be the result… they become the black sheep of their environement.

So why do people stay living in those area that are not right for them if all it causes is despondence? Because, despite its many shortcomes, there’s something that that place offers that isn’t easy to walk away from. Sometimes, it is work that prevents a person from moving forward. With the world being as challenging and competitive as it is, most people wouldn’t willingly give up a decent paying job to relocate without guaranteed income flowing in. Many times, it’s family that holds a person back: this could mean staying in a place one has outgrown because it offers a safe environment and good schooling for the kids. It could also mean not moving because of their attachment to their immediate family (mom, dad, siblings, cousins, etc.). Regardless of the reason, it’s not uncommon for people to die near where they were born despite their desire to leave because thoughts of failure often accompany thoughts of leaving, which are typically too great to ignore.

MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE: THE NEED TO SURVIVE TRIUMPHS OVER THE NEED FOR JOY

I consider myself a city boy at heart. I was born in New York City, a place I never grew tired of. But at 11, my family moved to Bluffton, South Carolina, a small town that, despite it’s rapid growth over the last 2 decades, could never compete with New York City in size, culture, excitement or opportunity. I remember turning eighteen, dying to leave Bluffton and relocate to  a city. But something kept me from leaving at that time: I can’t remember if it was the love for my family (even though I did feel like that misunderstood, black sheep), my mediocre job, my car payment, or just fear, but for some reason I decided to stay and attend college in Bluffton. I put my yearning for an exciting life aside. I worked, I studied, then I worked some more, because that’s what I thought I needed to do to attain a promising future. At one point, I had a decent paying job, but never the exciting life I wanted and needed to go along with it. Then, as I shifted from one job to another, my scarce finances began to pose a problem. By the time I’d come to my late 20s, no longer able to handle low paying jobs and nearly complete dependency on my family, I knew I’d have to either enter the army or teaching profession.

That was when I moved five hours away to take a job deep in the country of North Carolina. The move brought me little ease and comfort because it was a place I never felt I belonged. I had hopes of moving to a place where I’d meet accepting people of different backgrounds, engaging in dinner dates, weekend outings and perhaps the occasional weekend travel. Finding love would have been welcoming too. Sadly, I spent most of my time alone.

I discovered that the only good thing about the relocation was my job. Not only did working as a teacher offer me three years stability, it put me in alliance with caring and supportive professionals, and made me aware of the hidden passion I had for helping shape the minds of our youth. But, the country, or even the nearest big town that I live in, Wilmington, N.C., has never felt like home. There remained within me the desire to escape my reality, travel abroad and focus on strengthening my Spanish skills.

IT’S SO HARD TO FOLLOW THE HEART

I know I can go in the direction of my dreams and hope everything works out for the best but the cautious, responsible side of me says to take the safe road, find another job teaching and continue my writing on the side. I know that going back home would brighten up my life a little; after all, my family, whom I’ve been distant from for the last 3 years, is there. Still, I’m afraid that returning home now would mean I have to stay for a few years (due to work), and that thought frightens me, as I know Bluffton isn’t exciting enough to captivate me for 3 whole years.

I’m left contemplating a return to Bluffton, or being daring and leaving out of the country where I would have a year’s savings to make my dreams come true. Leaning closer to playing it safe and returning to Bluffton leaves me to wonder: Why do we put our dreams and interests on pause in order to survive when taking the safe road doesn’t promise happiness or satisfaction? Why can’t I just have the strength and courage to follow my heart and live free, as if I were dying?

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June 9, 2019