Dear Diary…

 Hello America. Today, I write with somewhat of a heavy heart. Usually, it is my habit not to include too many personal details in my blogs for fear of them winding up in the wrong hands or being misinterpreted. However, today I am in a rare, completely honest mood, and for those of you who care to know, I really want to share a glimpse of who I really am and how my life really is.

So here goes nothing.

For those of you who don’t know me personally, on May 10, I finally became a graduate of Hampton University. In an unexpected and exciting turn of events I got accepted into the NBC Page Program and within three weeks of returning to Atlanta I was on a plane to New York to start a new chapter in my life. I must admit I had a myriad of feelings going into this situation: fear, excitement, anxiousness just to name a few.

Now, I have been here a few days shy of a month, and the feeling that penetrates most of my days is loneliness.

Don’t get me wrong America. I am enjoying my job. As hard as the Page Program pushes you, I have fallen into the routine of daily life there with incredible ease. The work is cool (it could be worse) and the people are great, but my mind always drifts back to my days at Hampton, and I can’t help but wish my Queens, my Sorhors and all of the other people that made that place great could be here with me…and I feel sad.

The transition is not easy. That goes without saying. And that’s for a few different reasons.

 First of all, I deal with a hellified commute. I work in Manhattan, but I live in New Jersey. On a good day the trip is 1.5 hours each way. Most days it’s 2 hours. That doesn’t really help my social life, as I am usually running to get back to the crib at a decent hour.

 Second of all, why didn’t anyone tell me that finding an apartment in New York is like buying a one-way ticket to the 7^th circle of hell? The ordeal is as interesting as it is stressful, especially since I’m currently ducking brokers who swear I owe them $1500. Yea…right. (Hope they are not reading…)

Third, shortly before making the big move, I lost someone who was a huge part of my life. No, he didn’t die, but he’s definitely not coming back. I won’t name names because I don’t think it’s appropriate, but just to recap the situation, I was in a pseudo, not so exclusive, somewhat convoluted relationship with this person for nearly a year. Basically, I was his dirty little secret. He never told anyone he was with me; in fact, he jumped through hoops to hide me. Now why did I put myself through this foolishness? I’m glad you asked.  For all his faults, he understood me and gave in to my incessant (and I’m sure annoying) prods and pleas for attention. But at the end of the day, I got fed up and I cut him loose. He responded with a tirade of hurtful text messages saying that he had planned to ask me to be his girl, and he didn’t want to be my friend and the clincher…he erased my number.

Can you say “hurt” America? I was so hurt, but when I really pulled myself together and thought about it, there really is something fundamentally awry within me. First, I let a man keep me under wraps that long. Second, when I think back, there were only five months during my entire college career where I was truly unattached to man.

That’s less than half a year.

So, I have to ask myself: what is it in me that makes me feel I need a man in my life to be happy? And the answer is I have no idea. I was not one of those kids with the sad, broken childhood searching for the love of my father and whatnot. My childhood was fine. My daddy loves me…that’s not the problem. Maybe I’ll figure it out before it’s too late.

Last, (and let’s not get sensitive here), I’m coming fresh off of four years surrounded by black folks. At the risk of sounding really silly, adjusting again to a majority environment is interesting. I would not call it hard, but it has its challenges. (White people don’t take any offense…I still love you J) I find myself holding my tongue a lot. It bothers me that I can’t totally be myself, but that’s the world we live in.

Meanwhile, I know what you’re saying: Michele you have only been in New York a month. Stop tripping! I know, I know. I am extremely blessed to have a job and especially one that affords me such awesome opportunities. As my friend told me last week, people do this everyday, but I guess I just needed to get it all off my chest.

All I can do is pray for better days. But until then…

Yours truly,

Lonesome Peach in the Big Apple

~ by micheledb on July 9, 2009.