In reading the post I shared on Thursday about Paul Carrick Brunson’s 2012, I was reminded to reflect on my own. There was something different about this year. Something scary.
I realized I had kids.
Two were born in 2008. The next in 2011. The third and fourth in 2012. I tried to be responsible, you know? I wanted to take care of them all at the same (damn) time. But the harder I tried, the more I failed. Especially when one passed away around my birthday in 2011. After that, I found myself neglecting one, then another, and another. Nowadays the majority of my time is dedicated to the remaining oldest. He’s at an important developmental point, and if I’m not active in his life now, there’s no telling what he’ll grow up to be. It’s tough. Really tough. Especially since people notice and call me out on it. “What about the other ones?” they ask. When will I be the father to all my children the way I announced I would be?
I’d love for all of them to be a part of my life, but it’s just not possible. I don’t have the resources to take care of all these kids. Even with a few more hours in my day or a few more dollars in my pocket, it’d be a struggle — a balancing act that I couldn’t confidently maintain. These kids are projects in the most literal sense. Let me tell you about each of them:
In 2008, I started a blog with two friends called Three Ways to Take It. In was our first real foray into the blogosphere. Given my penchant for the pen and the inner workings of the web, the site became my passion. I was convinced we’d go on a world tour speaking about what it meant to be young and Black. And it seemed that way at first. Within a year, we were an award-winning blog with a thriving community. It was a good sign, but it’s hard to go straight to the top when when your counterparts want to go different directions.
I was drawn to the web. They were drawn to their careers. One went on to be a lawyer and just landed the non-practicing job of her dreams. The other is now a blooming creative in the advertising industry.
We put the site to rest in March 2011. They were each great parents to their only children, while I struggled through fatherhood. There’s a reason they’re further on their path. (I know I’m making a crucial mistake here, but it’s worth noting.)
In late 2008, the original and now married SBM put out the bat signal for additional writers. My girl at the time told me about it and I gladly thee SBM up. I started writing for the site on a weekly basis — sometimes twice a week. Over time, I realized we had something with the potential to be epic. My involvement stepped up to the point that in February 2011, I officially took over the show. If you’ve been around for a while, you’ve seen the evolution. If you joined the party recently, know that a lot has changed in the last 22 months.
I’ve learned over time this isn’t a two hour a week hobby. It’s a 20 hour job. There’s a lot of technical stuff that goes into running a site. That doesn’t even factor in the writing. I won’t get into the specifics, but I’ll just say that when the site goes down at midnight or in the middle of the day, it’s a lot like a crying baby. You hear it, but if you ignore it, you’ll just feel like a terrible person.
Whether you see me in the comments or not, a day doesn’t go by that I don’t spend hours thinking about how we can be better or doing something that makes us better. I’m not trying to toot my own horn, but as I’m reflecting, I can’t ignore how much heart and soul I’ve put into this SBM thing. So much so that I know there’s no turning back. Though awful to say, I know that it has the most potential of all my children right now.
2013 has to be the year. It has to. I will not let us fade to black. But, this has also required some tough decisions which I’ll come back to.
The Unspoken Child: Freelance Writing
In October 2011, I started freelance writing about relationships for a known online magazine once a week. I also occasionally guest-posted on other sites. The relationship article freelancing ended in November 2012. The first step to becoming a better father.