“Hey Y’all” was a saying that is said often when you enter a filled room of people, instantly breaking down barriers and creating a sense of community among attendees. A southern term of warm welcoming to whoever may be there, it encapsulates the essence of southern hospitality, inviting everyone to feel at home regardless of their background. This simple phrase carries with it a warmth that can be felt in gatherings, casual barbecues, festive celebrations, or formal events. It was a kind gesture and depending on who is there, this gesture will also make you classy, reflecting a sincere appreciation of others’ presence and fostering connections that can last beyond the moment.
My grandma taught me many things, and her lessons continue to resonate deeply within me. I was a grandma’s boy till the day she left this beautiful earth of ours, and the bond we shared was something extraordinarily special. She taught me that in life, it’s primarily about the simple things that often go unnoticed. Each day we are bestowed with miracles that are simply given for free, just for the privilege of being here. It’s like the golden ticket, you know? To have life in general is so precious and rare that each of us has won a prized bull in this cosmic lottery. The air you breathe, the food that you eat, the laughter shared with loved ones—everything in life has a perfect balance, and it is this balance that makes each of us unique and remarkable.
I would like to think my grandma was the glue that held our family together. She was the heartbeat of our household, always radiating warmth and love. My grandma was the one who brought everyone together during major holidays, her cheerful presence a constant reminder of the joy of family. She would wear her best dress or a holiday-themed sweater, which only added to the festive atmosphere. What I remember most vividly is the aura of love she carried with her; the warmth she brought into any room or situation could brighten the darkest days.
In times of difficulty, when there was family tension or issues that needed addressing, I just knew she was the one who would settle the drama. Her unique ability to navigate through conflicts with grace was nothing short of enchanting; she could snap anyone into place who needed a gentle nudge back to reality. Her wisdom and compassionate nature inspired respect and affection from everyone around her. She was the person I aspired to be—someone who could bring light into the lives of others, showing them the beauty of kindness, patience, and love. My grandma’s legacy lives on in each cherished memory and the values she instilled in me.
Our family is far from perfect. Like any family, we have our sad stories, major losses, moments of tragedy, and hardship that we have had to face together. In my family, it may seem that we are the most dysfunctional family ever; however, the reality is that when it’s time to come together or when it’s time for the family to show up for one another, we do it. We rise to the occasion and we do it well. Despite our differences, quirks, and occasional squabbles, we understand the importance of unity in difficult times. We put all of our differences aside for a moment and tackle whatever challenges we may need to address as a unit, drawing strength from the bonds we share. It’s in these moments of collective effort that we realize the depth of our love and support for one another, proving that family, despite its imperfections, is incredibly resilient.
But just like every family, there are stories. Stories that are locked away, buried deep within the crevices of memory. Stories that, for me, represent trauma—some noticeable while others fade into the background. The life I experienced was nothing short of complicated; it was not marked by a lack of care or love from my parents. Rather, it was the atmosphere surrounding me and the unspoken tensions that lingered within that atmosphere that shaped my reality. The best way I can explain it is through a metaphor: imagine yourself on a path leading into the woods. You know the path well because you have traveled it many times before, yet you are acutely aware that the darkness of the woods harbors hidden dangers, both seen and unseen. That was my life. The family being the path, familiar and seemingly safe, while the woods represented the uncertainty and fears that lay beyond the comfort of the known. I learned at an early age that even if you are part of a family that cares for and loves you deeply, it does not shield you from the complexities and harsh realities of the outside world. My voice, at that time, was small, often unrecognized, and I struggled with not knowing what was wrong or right amidst the confusion. This internal battle was compounded by an overwhelming sense of isolation, as I grappled with the weight of emotions that seemed too heavy for my young shoulders to bear.
Looking back at my life for the longest time and as far back as I can remember, I kind of figured things out by myself, navigating the complexities of childhood without much guidance. Yes, I had brothers; however, they were older brothers, and I was the youngest, which often left me feeling isolated. So by default, oftentimes my brothers would go off and play, riding their bikes, and during those moments, I often found myself by myself, watching them from a distance, longing to join but unsure how to bridge that gap. I didn’t know how to make friends at a young age. I was shy and stuck to myself, often preferring the comfort of solitude over the anxiety of social interactions. Whenever I was in school, for some reason, I found myself still by myself, getting picked last for every group class activity, which only deepened my feelings. Am I that bad? Do I smell? Taking things personally at a young age or learning what personal means is hard, and I internalized those doubts, letting them spiral into a narrative that questioned my worth. Being socially accepted and trying to fit in is difficult, like trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces. I didn’t know how to socially connect, so I just kind of faked it till I made it, masking my insecurities with a smile. Yes, I played basketball, yes, I played football… just some things I would say to fellow classmates just to fit in, suggesting I was like them, but the truth was far from that. The reality is I didn’t do any of these things, and when it was time to show, I would flop and flop again, stumbling through my attempts to impress. Inexperienced and obviously to others needing attention, this was to some easy pickings, a target who appeared vulnerable and uncertain. To some, this was a perfect victim, an opportunity to assert their own dominance or elevate their social standing. I became a target of anyone who could prey on my weakness, and in this case, bullying became a relentless shadow, haunting my days and feeding my insecurities, leaving me to wonder if I would ever find my place among my peers.
Stand Strong: My Journey Back to Me 