94Th & Racine: The Growth of Me

By Nya B

The unknowns of college, letdowns, heartbreak, and redemption seemed like the themes to her life. In this sequel to 94th & Racine: The Roots of Me, The Growth of Me details the journey of a young woman’s path to solace. Nya recalls her life during her eighteen to twenty-eight years of age, highlighting her struggles with earning a higher education, coping with loss and grief, being a single parent to a son, and loving the wrong man. Nya struggles to deal with the burden that mental illness and immaturity have on her success. By making peace with her losses, defending herself against naysayers, and exuding consistent transparency, Nya prevails, leading her to unstoppable heights.

94th & Racine: The Growth of Me will take readers backstage, illustrating how one can lose focus, lending energy to dead-end situations. It will give insight to the dynamics that some college students face when they leave home and step away from what’s familiar to them. Readers will be inspired and encouraged as they learn how self-discipline, taking responsibility, and letting go can be essential factors in being grown. It’s a great read for others who were told they can’t, when in fact they can.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532056284

Nya B

Since her debut in 94th & Racine: The Roots of Me, Nya continues to share her clinical skills and therapeutic support through her private practice, with individuals, couples and families within the Metro St. Louis communities. Nya also utilizes her professional time to supervise other clinicians for state licensure. In her personal time, Nya is a wife, mother, friend, an author and a mentor to young mothers. Nya holds a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology, a Master’s degree in Professional Counseling, a clinical license in Professional Counseling, a credential as a National Certified Counselor, and is also a Clinical Supervisor for the state of Missouri. Indulge yourself in other writings by Nya B such as 14 Day Love Diet: A Self Help Guide to Letting go of Unhealthy Relationships; 94th & Racine: The Roots of Me, and her blog, The Unexpected: Taking on the Unforeseen of Marriage, which can be found at www.theunexpectednyab.com.

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Copyright © 2018 Nya B.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-5627-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-5812-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-5628-4 (e)

iUniverse rev. date:  09/12/2018

Dedication

F   or those who are afraid to leave; afraid to take chances; and afraid of change: You are more resilient than you know. The recipe for growth is simple: Add a little discomfort and courage; mix it with a lot of education; apply the lesson from the experience and watch yourself grow…

Love,

Nya…

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 14   I’m Here

Chapter 15   Distractions

Chapter 16   Support System

Chapter 17   Don’t Forget the Words

Chapter 18   I’m Not That Girl

Chapter 19   Not Grown After all

Chapter 20   Burdens To BEAR

Chapter 21   Blast from the Past

Chapter 22   Poor Decisions

Chapter 23   Faded

Chapter 24   It’s Official

Chapter 25   Back Again

Chapter 26   Devastation

Chapter 27   Reformed

Chapter 28   Ready

Chapter 29   The Operator

Chapter 30   Class of 2003

Chapter 31   Unfazeable

Chapter 32   Detour

Chapter 33   Taking A Seat

Acknowledgments

About The Author

Introduction

(To protect the identities of friends and family, most names have been changed)

D r. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, Our very survival depends on our ability to stay awake, to adjust to new ideas, to remain vigilant and to face the challenge of change. I thought about this as I dared to leave Chicago. Leaving the place I called home was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. It seems when one is taken out of their environment, they are reborn; they are new; they are forever changed. I believed I was forever changed as soon as I decided to leave. Making the decision alone came with both good and bad reactions. There were some who believed I could do anything I put my mind to. There were some who cheered for my success and saw me taking the world and running with it. Then there were others who never followed their dreams so there was no way they could see me following mine. The hood warned me to stay away from White people. They told me that trying to progress in their world would leave me hurt and back in the hood. I was told never to trust anyone because no one really cared. I was given incentives to finish just one year of college. Similarly, there were bets made on whether I would leave Chicago. I was asked many questions like, "Are you sure you wanna go to college? Are you sure you wanna raise your son alone?" I was ultimately confused by the questions because I didn’t see myself as having a choice. People often spoke to me as if the choices I made were taboo. Some questions even seemed to have a discouraging undertone. If I were really forced to look at it, I suppose the undertones in my culture were discouraging and leaving 94 th & Racine was taboo.

Grandma Reese raised everyone’s children and I believe she took it as an insult that I wanted to raise Ameer. She looked at me sometimes like she wanted to say, How dare you take him from me? I believe my cousins and even Brittany began to think that I somehow believed I was better than they were. There was distance and I would soon see that my efforts to change and my growth came with a price. It was those moments that made me feel like an outsider; like I was no longer a part of the culture I called my family. However, I would try to maintain as much as my identity as possible by coming to visit frequently, maintaining the street attitude, keeping my guard up and never letting anyone see me cry. I figured at the very least, my family would still see my heart. They would know that despite my relocating, I hadn’t changed. They would know that I was still a part of them. Little did I know, leaving Chicago stripped me of nearly ALL of that and every piece of advice seemed to hold some truth. My success COULD be had, but I had to learn to play the game. White folks definitely tried to run me out but there was always another White person walking me back in. For every person who didn’t care, there was someone who did. There were moments when I questioned my motherhood; my womanhood; my ability to function and teach people about who I really was. It seems change came with all of that. No one in this new life knew Cori and no one knew B. They only knew Nya. I had another side of the road to get to and there was only one way to get there…

Chapter 14

I’m Here

I   t’s August 16, 1998 and I’m here! I made it to college. It was the most beautiful campus I had ever seen. (Ok it was the only campus but who’s keeping tabs?) There were apartments, dormitories, buildings on top of buildings and the land, oh, the land was amazing. The trees turned colors right before my eyes. The grass was greener than emeralds mixed with clovers. The air was crisp, with the scent of fall and freedom. While I spent a lot of time this summer visiting the campus, I never saw it in this capacity. There were many students from all over the world. These students represented different races, sizes, identities and cultures. Whether it was studying, socializing or getting to know themselves, it seemed like everyone was there to accomplish something. Needless to say, I was definitely afraid. This was the first time I had ever been away from home. I had no friends, no family and most importantly, no Ameer. It turned out that his name had not come up on the waiting list for daycare and he needed to be at least 2 years of age for enrollment. As a result, I had to take him back and leave him behind for a short while. I wasn’t happy about it but I knew he wouldn’t be in Chicago without me for long. The only way I slept at night was to convince myself that I needed the time away from him just to get adjusted. Ameer was still in his toddler phase and Patsi loved toddlers. She loved Ameer. It was as if she became accustomed to being a grandmother (after all that shit she talked about not wanting to be one). It seemed Ameer gave Patsi a second chance at love; a second chance at parenting without the negative image. As did the rest of the family, Patsi enjoyed him. Unfortunately, it didn’t change the fact that my son needed to be with me and I would soon be there to get him.

Meanwhile, in downstate Illinois, my first duty of adjusting was getting to know college. The process of getting into college was simple but tedious. While I had the GPA and the ACT scores necessary, I didn’t have the money. After looking at the cost of tuition, I wondered how anyone paid for college. Classes were priced per credit hour and I needed 124 of them to graduate. My first semester of college, I received a small scholarship. It was for inner city youth, first generation college attendees to be exact. As I stated, the scholarship was small, so it didn’t cover everything. I applied for financial aid and received grants to cover the rest. The financial Gods must have been looking out for me because I was provided every penny offered. This allowed me to pay for housing, get my books, and decorate my apartment. Wait, did you hear the sound of that? MY APARTMENT? The sound of that was so nice. I often sat up at night just to say, MY apartment. I lived in a furnished, two bedroom apartment in what the university referred to as family housing. Family housing was a part of the campus where married couples and students with children resided. We had access to resources that parents needed such as information for child care, after school tutoring, parenting groups and a community designed for having a family away from home.

My apartment was nice. It had a nice size kitchen, with a refrigerator and a stove. I often wondered what I would do with a stove, considering the thought of cooking anything terrified me. As much as I watched Patsi and Grandma Reese cook, there was no way I wanted to try cooking on my own. As an alternative, take-out and sleep would be my pass-time. Speaking of sleep, the bedrooms in the apartment were also comfortably sized. The living and dining areas were adequate, providing the right amount of space for me and Ameer. I mentioned earlier that the apartment was furnished. While not all the apartments were designed that way, my apartment had to be because after tuition, books and a meal plan, there was very little money left to make big purchases. As grateful as I was to have furniture, I must admit that it was not the most decorative or comfortable. The sofa had to be the hardest place in the world to sit. There was no fluff to the cushion and it was red plaid, with wooden armrest (definitely not made for resting). There were two chairs to match and a round dining table with four chairs. The oak finished bedroom furniture was much more appealing. Ameer’s room had the cutest toddler bed. It seemed like it was made just for him. It sat low to the floor and had two matching dressers. My bedroom came with a full size bed and decent closet space. Just like Ameer’s room, my room also had two dressers. It felt great to put a key into a place that I could call my own. While I didn’t have much, it was more than what I came with.

I came to college with a trash bag of clothes, an iron, some dishes and sheet sets that I received prior to leaving. Patsi gave me a mirror. It was vintage; two squares within a square, bordered in gold. I think I was in love with that mirror. According to Patsi, I looked in it every day, so she thought I should have it. It wasn’t long before that mirror hung on my dining room wall and looking into it was a reminder of her. I no longer looked at it and saw myself. I saw her. I saw anger, hurt, loneliness and beauty. I suppose it’s true what Psychologists say about captured-bonding. Captured-bonding is a process that occurs in the abuse cycle. The concept suggests that victims of abuse, emotional or otherwise, tend to have sympathy for, and identify with their abusers once they are separated from them. As much as I wanted to get away from her, I began to miss Patsi. I missed her scent. I longed for the good in her, and not just her, but my family. I missed my family. I missed the sound of my cousins joking with one another, and the laughter. I missed covering my ears to the sound of Grandma Reese’s blues, and Johnny Taylor’s, Last Two Dollars, was her favorite. Whether they understood me or not, I missed being with my family because they knew me. I felt home sick and alone in a strange town. Never did I imagine that the hardest part about being away from home would be bearing the silence.

To distract myself from the silence, I allowed myself to get into the habit of what college was for and that was learning. It’s funny how one can be the smartest person in high school and when they get to college, become one of the dumbest. I was very upset about my course assignments. I left high school with a high GPA; the SAME GPA that got me financial assistance, scholarships and a new life. However, it appeared that beyond all of that, my GPA was now a part of the past. I remember I had to take placement tests for general courses. I’m sure anxiety played a huge part in my testing, for my scores on some subjects placed me in the most remedial courses. Back then, the registrar referred to these courses as A.D. While I never knew what A.D stood for, I can only assume it meant, Academically Deficient. Nevertheless, these courses came with no credit but I needed them in an effort to take the courses that did. Not all my courses were A.D. There were some courses I tested out of and was able to excel in as planned. According to my ACT scores, I scored the highest in the areas of Analysis and Science. This led me to believe that I should major in Biology. Therefore, biology became the learning track I was on.

August 18, 1998, I survived my first course. I also survived a few ice breakers, understood a syllabus, and witnessed a class size larger than the waiting area at the public aid office. However, what I found to be most exciting about attending class was the students. For a moment, being away from home didn’t seem so bad. I met so many people, and it all started with one question, Where are you from? It seemed Chicago had taken over and many of us were separated by less than six degrees. The first person to take a liking to me and not in a homosexual way but a friendly way was Riley. Riley grew up in Harvey and she graduated from Wildcat High, which happened to be in the same district as Thunderbird High. She seemed nice. She was funny and seemed like she was ready for anything. Riley was full of character. She exposed me to my first beauty faux pas: artistic eyebrows. Her eyebrows were drawn on and I almost felt rude for staring. Out of all the beauty tips my mother gave me, she didn’t prepare me for artificial eyebrows. While Riley’s eyebrows were a little different, I never judged her. Similarly, her eyebrows or lack thereof had no bearing on me getting to know her. Unlike me, it seemed Riley knew a lot of people at this university. There seemed to be quite a few others from Harvey but I knew no one. She introduced me to a couple of guys who graduated with her. One guy in particular was very handsome. He was tall, dark-skinned, and seemed very well groomed. He had a deep voice and talked with a small lisp. He also had a sense of humor to die for. His name was Larry. Just like me and Riley, Larry and I connected immediately. I realized that being able to laugh with someone attracted me to them faster than any other trait. However, as attracted as we were to one another, neither of us were willing to do anything about it. It was too early in the school year and Lord knows the distraction of a man was the last thing I needed.

After class this particular day, Larry and Riley suggested that we walk to the University Center to get some lunch. I didn’t have any reservations about that considering I was hungry and had a meal plan that could feed a village. We walked into the University Center, also known as the UC and the ambiance was quite overwhelming. There were more people, a book store, a snack shop, an open area to sit with enclosed offices all over. There appeared to be three levels to the UC. The escalators going up led to more offices, conference rooms and the University Restaurant. The escalators down took us right where the party seemed to be. The downstairs level had a food court. It kind of reminded me of a food court one would see in a mall. There were plenty of choices to choose from: Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, A Deli, you name it. There was even a bowling alley and a laser tag facility. This place gave you every reason to stay out of class. It appeared that fun was everywhere and so were the men!

Larry ran into a group of men hanging out by the cashiers and the check-out line in the cafeteria. Riley and I decided to walk along with him to greet them (It was a group of men, of course we had to tag along). Larry greeted one of them with a hand shake then introduced us to the group.

Hey y’all, this is Nya and this is Riley, Larry pointed. Making faint eye contact and distracted by crowd, they introduced