Life is a struggle. A struggle full of adventures, discoveries, laughter, sadness, ups, and downs. Lately, I've been struggling. I struggle to find joy in a world full of hate, racists, and hypocrisy. I recently spent two months in Côte D'Ivoire, next to family, friends, and a happy community. I've been struggling with re-integrating into the United States. A drastic difference in weather, day-to-day activities, and closeness to my family has made it challenging. I move much slower in the States, feel smaller, and can't see enough of myself in my community. I'm struggling with my creative flow, fitness, and Deen. These struggles have affected my decision-making. As a usual chess player, I find myself out of place on a checkerboard with each step lately.

Determined to get out of this headspace, I went for a walk a couple of days ago. Strolling on Madison Avenue from my apartment on 127th Street, I walked to the steady beat of my heart to keep me zen and unlock the answers I needed. After crossing the street on 103rd, I felt a stiff object in my back. Naturally, I attempted to turn around to check my back with my hands. Before making this motion, I heard, “Don’t turn around nigga, keep walking and run your shit.”  I followed instructions and kept walking with no resistance. Instead of running or calling for help, instinctively, I opted to have a conversation with the person behind me. Based on the tone, I assumed it  was a man, so I said, “You good bro? I really ain’t got shit on me. Just a broken iPhone 10 and my debit card,” then, instinctively, I stopped walking again. He said, “Didn’t I tell you to keep walking? You stupid? ” I did not reply, but instead chose to turn around.

He had his hands in the pocket of his oversized hoodie and I could see that he wasn’t holding a gun. So I plead for him to “chill,” telling him that whatever he’s going through, God will make a way and show him the answers soon. He stood there staring at me, for maybe 10 seconds. I stared back at him. His face looked preoccupied with sadness, confusion, and a lack of confidence. Tears began to run down my face, not because I was afraid, but because I recognized the look on his face. It’s the same look I see in the mirror after I finish brushing my teeth in the morning.

Immediately, I found myself scrambling to see how I could help this man because that’s what it felt like he needed. He eventually took his hands out of his pocket and started to walk away. Before he could get too far, I yelled, “You tryna get a sandwich?” I figured food could cheer anyone up. He nodded, so I joined him. We walked to Chris’s Kitchen, a restaurant not too far away. As we ate, we introduced ourselves–the man’s name was Brian. We talked about how his current situation impacted him and why he felt the need to try to attack me. The details of our conversation were heavy and thus confidential, but we quickly understood that we crossed paths for a reason. After our conversation, we went our separate ways–me walking back to my apartment and Brian to wherever he was headed next.

As I reflect on my encounter with Brian, I the face of danger my instincts kicked in. I made decisions based on what felt right to me without overthinking anything. I reasoned with him to have courage, self-confidence, and hope. I saw a reflection of myself in Brian as he listened with a confused and pensive look. It felt like I was talking to myself.

I realize that I am struggling because I stopped listening to myself, being myself, and ignoring my moral compass. I’ve allowed my internal compass to decalibrate by not moving at my pace, rather, I’ve become accustomed to following the selfish capitalist grind and a world that is constantly trying to fit me into a box. I left Côte D’ivoire not because I wanted to but because I felt I had to in order to maintain good standing with my job, wife, and finances. I left when I wasn’t ready to go, leaving me feeling like a confused passenger in a fast-moving vehicle. Lately, I’ve looked externally to try and get answers to things happening internally. I allowed myself to fall for a world meant to be a means to an end, not an end in itself.

My lack of commitment to myself took away my joy, causing me to enter a cycle where struggle becomes all too familiar. Yet, I know my path to contentment and clarity is at the heart of the matter. Failing to acknowledge and trust my understanding of the world or what I know to be important led me to feel incomplete, sell myself short, and cheat myself of joy. My encounter with Brian allowed me a reset; the chance to recognize that my natural instincts will protect me if I allow myself to trust them.