Two Things can be true

Hey friend, grab a cup of tea and settle in — I’ve been meaning to tell you about my time in South Carolina. You know how life has a way of teaching us lessons we didn’t ask for but end up needing? That was this chapter for me. I laughed, cried, questioned, and grew in ways I didn’t expect. Looking back now, I can hold space for both gratitude and the hard stuff. Two things really can be true.

​That’s kind of where I’ve been lately—reflecting on my time as a resident librarian at Clemson and my season in Upstate South Carolina. (I have to specify this now because in the Northeast, if you shorten it to Upstate, people think you mean New York) I’m grateful for the experience; it confirmed the direction I wanted to take, not just in librarianship but in my creative work as well. But it was also hard. Hard in ways I didn’t expect. I met incredible people, though—people who softened the edges and made the hard days bearable. The people were the gift.

You know, this was my fourth move in five years. (A story for another day.) But for now, let’s just rewind to the Upstate, a place that, for all its surprises, taught me lessons about peace, stillness, and the art of listening. I was ecstatic to go back to the Southeast. It was a move born from prayers, hard work, and sacrifice. It also came at the end of a beautiful solo road trip. If you haven't seen that series, then it is worth watching, and the videos are below.

Setting the Tone

That trip set the tone. Looking back at the videos myself, which I hadn't seen in two years, I can see how the foundation was being laid. My road trip was a dream come true, but was also physically and mentally challenging. It was a space that forced me to slow down and permit myself to feel what I was feeling. To find the beauty and the heartbreak all at once. This meant that by the time I got to South Carolina, I had driven through 11 states and was embracing the shift in mindset. Once the shock and honeymoon phase of my move wore off, I realized I didn't have the same sense of urgency I had living in other places. I felt unhurried and safe. It took a while, but eventually I gave myself permission to process all of the emotions we couldn't hold in survival mode and then some.  

Having stability was surprising, refreshing, and nice. I wanted to keep it. Where I once couldn't quite picture what I wanted out of a home base, I wanted to make a home, which was in direct opposition to the temporary state I found myself in. When there is a clock counting down your days, your whole body feels unsettled after a while. There's also the habit I had begun to form of moving. Where others can't imagine uprooting their lives and moving to a new place, I found it invigorating. All I could hear was, "Why not?" The thing that makes a solo road trip, an international trip, or any trip, in my case, exciting is at the core of who I am. I always hear the "Go" and less of the "Stay". Even if it ends badly, I can justify an attempt more than I can a missed opportunity. And while my core is a spirit of adventure, South Carolina taught me the importance of waiting. How staying can be just as rewarding as going. Listening to my spirit for the right time became a practice I honed. There was also a lesson in saying, "No." To relationships, to people, and to opportunities. While I can't yet say if I've perfected my listening or practice of saying no. I can say with confidence that what came next was so smooth that if any future decisions don't come with this much ease and certainty in my spirit, then I don't want it.

If you are new here, then you might not have seen the moments of absolute struggle and chaos that made my life unpredictable. So it was nice to kick my feet up and let myself unravel from the years of stress, trauma, and also celebration. It was through that untethering that gave me a sense of security in ways I didn't account for. It had me wondering why I'd rock the boat and end a supposedly good thing. This is where the hard part comes in -desperately wanting a place and belonging while in a waystation is agony. Though I knew I signed up for this.

Learning the Why

When I think back, I realize this move was more than just career logistics—it was soul work. I felt a tug to return to the Southeast, something deep and ancestral. I remember shortly after arriving, finding a park in Easley while on the phone with a friend, kicking my shoes off, and frolicking barefoot; the smell of the Magnolias lingered in my nose with the warmth embracing me. Even until the end of my time in South Carolina, I loved that smell and the heat. I remember thinking, this feels like my grandmother’s hug.

I knew then that this was a God move. While the journey stripped me raw in all of the best ways, I needed to be exactly where I was to be who I am today. As I learned more about the land, especially the land I worked on, the more I understood why we, Black Southerners and Appalachians, must go home. I felt this pull for many years before I moved towards it. In fact, moving to Kansas away from this pull raised alarms, forcing me to move to Kansas City. I had big lessons to learn in memory work, storytelling, community, collaboration, and safety

If we don't carry the stories of our past, we will be erased, whitewashed, and only told in parts. Many well-meaning folks can try to tell our stories, but if we aren't there... in those rooms, in those spaces, or a part of those projects... and even sometimes when we are... then our stories will be mismanaged. We can't allow that. This is where community played a big part for me. I can't say I felt a genuine immersion in the community, with that stopwatch always playing in my head. I managed to get close to several different folks in Easley and Greenville, all with various investments, and most were planning to be around a long while. This made me see the charm of the Southeast. I also recognized that I wanted more from the community for myself. How are we (community members) being change makers that we also want to see? How are we making our voices heard? How are we helping each other and those around us? Also, how can we engage with the community for fun, entertainment, and a safe black (POC even) good time? If those spaces are hard to find and inaccessible, then what does that say about the city I find myself in? These are big questions, but also ones that have been following me since I left St. Louis in 2021. This soul-searching journey was only heightened once I found myself in the quiet.

I would've been content to stay. But even I know complacency is somewhere I cannot (will not) live. It is not good enough to collect a check for me. I want to be an active participant in the community I live in. And as my residency made it abundantly clear that it would not lead to a permanent job, I began to chart out the future I wanted, even if that meant leaving the Southeast once again. I was working at Clemson and the Greenville County Public Library, which wasn't sustainable for having a life outside of work, either. Being in a healthier space let me dream for my entire person. When I took this job, I had a vision. Remembering that vision and having others remind me of it made this next step grounded in my community.

Not alone

One of the biggest lies that tries to infiltrate my thoughts is the idea that I am alone. So, another reason I moved back to the Southeast was for family. I had a picture in my head of how being closer to family physically would also bring us closer, but that has been one of the most disappointing aspects of this move. Not only that, but the way I envisioned engaging with friends didn't click with the Upstate's layout. However, I found some that really transformed my time, AND I also realized that my family has been in my life for a long time. And they also live mostly in the Midwest. Shame on them ;) 

I love that friendships are mirrors or reflections of different aspects of yourself. Having a solid circle can bring out things that you yourself haven't been able to vocalize. That's what my South Carolina friends brought out of me. Even though it was hard to see them with two jobs and find enjoyment, we made it work, especially toward the end. 

I was fully committed to three years in South Carolina. I even tried for more permanent roles in the area, but that divine intervention came through with a quickness. Instead of letting this move make me, I sought counsel from God in faith and also from my people. I was determined to make this a group decision and a RIGHT decision. It definitely was. Do I miss South Carolina? In ways. I already miss the weather and the heat. Then again, I am embracing the weather in the Northeast. I also miss my friends. But what I carry with me now is a greater sense of self. This shows up as an acceptance of my taste for adventure and unique lifestyle habits, a fierceness in saying no and not accepting less than I deserve or desire, and a newfound appreciation for stillness.

As I look back, I realize that what I found in South Carolina wasn’t just a place; it was a reflection and a place to plan. It showed me who I was becoming and who I still wanted to be. And even now, as I step into new soil, I carry those lessons softly, like a whisper reminding me: two things can be true, and both can be holy. Thanks for sitting with me on these thoughts.

​Laters!