The Universe Screams Perception

Perception. Life is all about perception.

You know that weird thing that happens where the universe starts to send you the same message over and over again, but it takes the third, fourth, or millionth time for the message to actually come through? The message finally hits home hard enough, reverberating in your mind, and you finally say to yourself and the universe, “Okay, okay – I get it…”

Lately the universe has been screaming out one word to me: Perception.

Where it started:

Late at night, as I’m trying to go to sleep, my brain loves to torture me with embarrassing things I’ve done throughout my life, dangle the tasteless words I’ve spouted at others, and really just hammer in that I’m a terrible, heartless person. After I hear a dizzying bout of my own words, I then take a deep dive into a vicious wave pool of the hurtful things friends and family have said to me (or about me) throughout my life, “Nobody really knows who you are,” “You don’t have much of a personality,” “You’re a two-faced bitch,” “You’re soulless,” all of which effectively drive the point home.

Yet, as I flail about the torrent of self-loathing, I take a minute to refocus – to reel it back in. None of that matters, what matters is where I am now. Not the big picture macro-now, I mean the micro-now. I focus on the task at hand: relaxing and getting some rest. I remind myself that the past is done, those people probably don’t remember these moments anyway. In this precise moment the past doesn’t matter, only the micro-now matters.

Where it went:

“Nobody really knows who you are.” This is the late night phrase that has been sticking to me like static-y cellophane throughout even the daylight hours. I’ve just had a hard time shaking it lately. This was something casually said to me in high school by an incredibly close friend. They said it offhand, and I remember being completely jarred by it.

I always felt a tad out of place in high school, all of those kids had grown up together, I randomly showed up freshman year and most people assumed I was older because they didn’t know me. But a little over halfway into my high school career, I had become involved enough to genuinely feel like I was leaving some kind of footprint with my classmates, and like I was becoming a part of this general air of familiarity carried between these hundreds of kids.

Then my friend made that statement and it completely altered the perception I had of myself. My gut reaction to their statement was that they were wrong. But my audible response to them was, “Well, I still don’t really know most people anyway, so that’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. That one offhand, careless statement made by a friend… I gave those words so much power that they still have a hold over how I see myself in the eyes of others. Consistently throughout my life, well since sophomore or junior year of high school, I have always assumed people don’t know me. All because a trusted friend, an ally in life, told me so.

Where it’s going:

What has been most difficult lately is trying to understand why that memory decided to resurface so fiercely and persistently. Why has it been the ringing in my ears? Is the universe trying to communicate something to me?

Then today, the universe screamed its violent message at me, using my cousin as a catalyst. My cousin posted a video and somewhere in there she said, “Everyone in the world has a different perception, even if they’re seeing the exact same thing.” What’s comical is that this message from the universe landed like an edible – aka an hour later.

An hour after watching my cousin’s video, I sat up in a stark realization: I let the perception of another impact my own perception of myself. Which is incredibly unfortunate, I can’t help but wonder how many opportunities I’ve missed due to this lack of clarity in myself? So within the time I’ve been writing this article, I’ve been tumbling down rabbit hole after rabbit hole of realizations. Most importantly, I’ve come to understand that I stopped believing that friend’s statement long ago, their words have not been my truth for quite sometime now.

Since moving to New York and starting my career nearly four years ago, I’ve slowly been coming into my own power and understanding the impact that my voice can have. I have come to understand that I am incredibly capable of commanding a room, that I have an infallible confidence if I so call upon it, and that I have the power to decide whether I am noticed or whether I hide. I am in charge of the perception I project – whether it’s yours or mine.

. . .

Emily SmithLeave a comment

New York Apartment Moments

I moved to New York City almost immediately after I graduated college in 2017. The stars aligned and aligned, and continued to align and I’m still here, with the same company, jivin’ on.

One thing I’m frequently asked, by friends, family, and strangers alike is, “How much longer are you staying in New York?”

When I first moved to New York, this question always made sense for people to ask me. My internship had an end date, I have no family here, costs are outrageous for housing, I moved here knowing only one person and that person I honestly only knew from a few shared classes in college. There was nothing grounding me here, I knew that and that’s why it was such a valid question for people to ask me.

Then, the internship abruptly ended 2 months in – because I got promoted 😉

So things only then started to become a bit grounding for me – my job became a real adulty job, friendships began rapidly growing, and almost excessively I began meeting more people… the city was morphing into my home. Yet as the years go by, I still get asked, “How much longer, Emily?”

Recently it clicked that the reason I’m asked so much, besides the point of people simply wanting me closer to them, is that maybe I’m not speaking enough about how much this place is my home.

When my mamaw passed away my freshman year of high school, she had cancer and it was incredibly touch and go a lot of the time. It hit a point where my dad ultimately told me, “No news is good news.” Which, in some weird way, I think this phrase held so much reassurance to me that I carried it on through to my adulthood. I treat everything with a “no news is good news” attitude – even in the very way I conduct my conversations with others. If I’m not talking about an aspect of my life, I assume everyone must realize that’s because those parts are good, or maybe even great! But what I’ve failed to understand is that this means when I’m talking in detail about anything… maybe I dwell a bit more on the bad or negative things happening – which then in turn paints a more negative picture of my life to others.

So of course it makes sense that people are asking me, “How much longer are you staying in New York, Emily?” because they’ve really only been hearing a quick quip of “Oh yeah, it’s great but…” and then I dive more in depth about mouse horror stories, or the terrible roommates, not to mention they regularly hear me say, “Send the package to my office because things get stolen from my apartment!”

Today, I’ve decided to switch my narrative and share with you all some little magical things about each place I’ve lived in NYC, to spread some positivity around 🙂

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HARLEM: MAY 27, 2017 – AUG 1, 2017

This was the apartment that welcomed me with open arms into the city. Albeit, itty-bitty tiny arms, but welcoming arms nonetheless. I paid $750 per month to live here incl. utlities (3 bedroom but I never saw one one of the roommates)

WHAT I’VE SHARED WITH OTHERS: I lived with a bartender who would come home with her friends at 5AM and proceed to throw crazy parties each morning. There was no AC, and the dead of summer in NYC was so unbearable, every night I would take a cold shower and then take a washcloth to put behind my neck to keep me cool throughout the night. Living here was also the brokest I’d ever been in my life. It was rough, and not only all of that, my bedroom was so terribly small that I could lay on the floor and have my fingers touch one side and my toes touch the other (and I’m somewhere between 5’4″ – 5’5″!)

THINGS I’VE NEVER SHARED: Almost every night, just before falling asleep, I would get to relax to the sound of a neighbor playing jazz music from their window, sometimes opera music, but mainly classic jazz. It was one of those grounding “I’m in NYC, I’m here…” moments, it felt like a scene from a movie – to fall asleep to that music on a twin-size mattress on the floor of a Manhattan apartment. There was also this Halal place at the end of my block and they had the best lamb over rice I’ve ever had… period. And the commute to work from this apartment was one of the most stable commutes I’ve experienced.

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CHINATOWN: AUG 1, 2017 – OCT 27, 2018

This place felt like a step up from my first apartment because the room had a queen size bed OFF THE GROUND, was generally larger, and also it was downtown right around where I loved going out the most. I also only paid $750 a month to live here incl. utilities (5 bedroom).

WHAT I’VE SHARED WITH OTHERS: I lived in a five bedroom apt but a couple of the rooms generally had more than one occupant. Most of the occupants did not speak English. And we also had several furry roommates that did not pay rent – AKA MICE. WE HAD ALL THE MICE. It was a terror, one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. Link here to my personal blog to read more of those deets. I also lived above a grocery store which was under the Buddhist temple, which was under the Chinese Mafia gambling ring location (if you’ve seen Marvelous Mrs. Maisel it was identical to what Joel stumbled upon when opening his club..) – then after climbing all those stairs you’d find yourself at my apartment. We also had a stove top but not an oven – and I didn’t catch this until after I moved in…

THINGS I’VE NEVER SHARED: Some of the craziest party nights of my life took place while I lived here and my roommates put up with my drunken loudness silently and without complaint. Even though communication was hard at times, it was somehow a friendly almost family like atmosphere you could tangibly feel. One roomie had an adorable Yorkie named Cofi and it was so fun to get greeted by her each day. Living in Chinatown itself made it feel even more real that I was in New York – or more like out of the country even. Just walking around the area, I get that same buzz in my soul that I get when traveling to a new city. Then the smell hits me and I’m ready to bounce, but you get the idea 😉 UGH AND LASTLY THE FOOD WAS PHENOM!!!!!!! So phenom…

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SPANISH HARLEM: OCT 27, 2018 – JULY 31, 2020

If I said Chinatown felt like a step up, man oh man, just hold your horses for this place. It was newly renovated with exposed brick in every room, only one flight of stairs to climb, WASHER AND DRYER IN UNIT!! It was a dream. I paid $1,207 a month plus utilities to live here (2 bedroom)

WHAT I’VE SHARED WITH OTHERS: Roaches, roaches, roaches. The renovations throughout the building rattled the roaches and our apartment was coated in the beasts. My roommate and I had severely different cleanliness standards. There was a loud motorcycle gang that would rumble through the neighborhood at all hours, right by our windows. Lastly, our super and management company were the worst…

THINGS I’VE NEVER SHARED: You could buy the prettiest freshest flowers and herbs from nearly any corner of any block whether its a bodega or a genuine flower shop – Spanish Harlem was stocked. And everything was fairly priced too. Speaking of Bodegas, there was a bodega on the corner of our block with the absolute best burgers and fries ever. Best enjoyed at the end of a night out. And the guys who worked there, along with those who also shopped there from the neighborhood, were the absolute friendliest people who could always bring a smile to my worn out face. I’ve also embarrassingly had a card declined there and they let me just have my order on the house without even a second thought. On another note, people would often park right outside our windows and blare music. To which I had a love/hate relationship with, but reflecting back it was mostly love. On Sundays it was typically soulful gospel music, and every other day the genre was fair game. I also often found myself Shazaming their music and adding it to my own playlists to jam to later. And lastly, every morning on my walk to the train, I always exchanged a nice “good morning” with a traffic cop – it was small thing, but it was still a burst of kindness I could count on each morning.

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Most currently, I’ve found myself out of Manhattan and living in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. This place… I’ve only said good things about this place. I feel blessed to have evolved up to this point – great roommates I actually enjoy hanging out with, a BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL APARTMENT WITH ALL THE AMENITIES… the cover photo for this article is the view from my building’s rooftop…

It’s a dream.

To reflect back on the whole, “no news is good news” thing – I shouldn’t have carried this past the situation with my mamaw. No news is good news is best for situational uses only. It’s so important to share the good things with those who care about you, because if you only share the bad, they’re going to worry and assume that’s all there is. Bad.

So share your good news, share your great moments, share the small nice moments – don’t assume everyone knows you’re experiencing good things. As my nana always says, “Do you know what happens when you assume? You make an ASS out of U and ME!“

Emily SmithLeave a comment

Warning Signs

If you have read my previous article, you were made briefly aware of my experiences with domestic violence with “John Doe”. I never will give his name. This is solely for awareness purposes. I brought up certain things that cannot and should not be tolerated in a relationship as they will lead to inevitable abuse of some form. As much as I would LOVE to jump to the happy, joyful life I live now, it’s just not realistic and frankly not appropriate.

It is important for me to dive a bit further into specific situations that occurred so that I can shed some light on the reality of being an enabler; furthermore, providing people, especially women, the tools to recognize the warning signs. It is important to know that due to certain things I went through, my brain has wiped some of them from my recollection. And it took me awhile to accept that and understand why it’s OKAY to not remember everything, it’s just apart of my experience.

❗️ I also must make known some content will be graphic and might be triggering to some people. Proceed with caution ❗️
…

Warning Sign One ⚠️

Consistent lying and hiding things


This was an early on sign I was too young to decipher. He had a need to do drugs (marijuana, etc) and I was ultimately the one thing standing in his way. I went against my gut despite him hiding the act behind my back and finding out from one of his friends that he never stopped, nor intended to stop. I will later down the road expand on my opinion about addiction’s effect on mental illness. Ignoring this sign led to poor money management, risking job opportunities, further damage to his already fragile mental state, and opening the door to future lying.

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Warning Sign Two ⚠️

Never following through.


Time and time again, whether it was after a rage outburst or getting caught in a lie, he would always apologize and say he would do better.

Things would go so well for about a week, then we’d be right back at the drawing board. A time where this was very prominent was when we discussed counseling or therapy. His lack of consistency in an effort to better himself would often result in outbursts of rage and emotion.

Unfortunately, nothing we had planned to help solve this issue was followed through. It is important to acknowledge this behavior because it will lead to both people lacking trust and ultimately, ignoring it will lead to enabling the abuser. I was a textbook enabler. I kept believing him and saying, “Maybe next time he’ll mean it and do something about it.” It never happened.

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Warning Sign Three ⚠️

Verbal aggression, extensive cursing, & name-calling.


There were times in our relationship, and outside of it, when he would choose to yell and make a point that everyone in our apartment building should hear him. Within the yelling, there would be name-calling and total disrespect for me as his girlfriend/wife. I will admit that there were times when during an argument that I should have left him alone and walked away, but I chose to stay and try to talk it out. It never ended well for me. I ignored his personal warning signs in order to try to solve our problems. That was wrong. However, I believe there is no excuse for verbal or emotional abuse. Ignoring or making light of aggressive yelling and name-calling led to just that – verbal and emotional abuse.

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Warning Sign Four ⚠️

Destruction of personal property.


This was also an early warning sign and I chalked it up to him being an angsty teenager. There were several times where this progressed, and also what I personally believe led to the physical abuse in the end.

There was a specific time where he explained to me he got mad at his parents and he punched a hole in his wall. He hid the hole behind his clock. I never told his parents. I never thought it’d happen to me or with me. Well, it did. We would argue, and it would escalate to him punching a hole in our first apartment. I had to lie to the complex and tell them he fell and that’s what caused the hole. One time, he totaled his car and when we went to get his belongings out of it, he punched a large dent in the hood of the car.

Another instance, which made me scared for my safety, was when we got into an argument while I was away from home, and he went into our garage and took a knife to everything that was cardboard and paper and shredded it. He also took my box fan and demolished it. Before I got home, after he apologized for whatever it was we argued over, he told me not to go into the garage because he did something he was not proud of. Well, I went into the garage and I was in utter disbelief of the damage. I never told him or brought it up.

The final time this happened was when we decided to try to work things out before we called the divorce final. We came back after a night out and we got in another argument. He became violent and shoved me. He then threw a picture frame at me and it shattered, destroying the precious contents inside – my uncle’s obituary. That is when the police were called by a listening neighbor.

But again, I chose to ignore this and clearly, I should not have. This is toxic behavior and ultimately led to physical abuse.

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Warning Sign Five ⚠️

Total disregard for human life.


Some will argue this is a characteristic of sociopathic tendencies. I am not a medical professional so I cannot draw any conclusions or assumptions. I can only share what I experienced. This began, not early on, but about the last 3 years of our relationship. We would be driving and when cars would cut him off, or maybe just not drive properly, he would make a point to see if they were elderly. And if they were, he would say something along the lines of, “Thank God you don’t have much time left because…” And those words would either be introduced with, or followed by, yelling and cursing, then aggressive driving.

Never in my life would I think that those ideas of his would trickle into my personal family life.

In 2017, my grandmother passed away. This was one of the hardest things I ever had to deal with. However, what was very important to me was that she saw me get married, which she did in 2016. After our separation in 2018, he made a remark on social media that involved my grandmother. It’s honestly burnt in my brain…

Well at least her grandma got to see her marry before she croaked, so I guess that means she wins lol

John Doe

The disrespect and disregard for human life, my grandmother’s life, was a big sign. I was doing the right thing at that point, though. I was already gone and we had nothing to do with each other at that point.

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Warning Sign Six ⚠️

Physical changes in appearance when in a rage.


This is probably the biggest sign I had that I honestly could not ignore. I just lived with it. This is a description of what I saw when he would have a rage outburst. This is a combination of mental illness and lack of self control.

Again, his mental illness was not a contributing factor to why I left. It was the lack of care on his end to do something about it despite his family’s extensive efforts.

It was almost like you’d see in a movie where a person would transform or morph – like the Hulk. When he got uncontrollably angry, his green eyes would turn black, his forehead would throb and you could see his veins. He would get this side smirk where the left side of his face would twitch. He’d develop this condescending laugh/chuckle. His fist would ball up. He would grow almost, it seemed, in size. He would pace around, shoving and throwing things. At times, if he was angry with himself, he would punch himself, pull his hair, cry. I was always so scared. For himself and for myself.

If this was a result of mental illness, it was clear he was suffering. But there was nothing I could say or do to convince him to get the help he so needed. I cared deeply for him and his health. Everyone who knows me, knows this to be true. I do not judge a person because of this. But this falls within a warning sign because, I never removed myself from the situations, I stayed and tried to calm everything down. It always ended with him saying, “You make me this way. You make me do these things.”

This is a classic sign of manipulation in order to make me feel crazy or like I deserved the abuse – gaslighting.

With all this being said, I do not share my experiences to criminalize his actions. I don’t anticipate anything to be done. I don’t want any hate being spread. I am fully over what I went through. It mostly humbles me and allows me help others. That’s the goal of this all.

This isn’t revenge. This is education.

Candid conversations discussing experience with domestic violence and domestic abuse has always been taboo. It’s time to end that. It is OKAY to talk about it. It is OKAY to not be okay. Do not hide and do not protect the abuser. Acknowledge being an enabler. Acknowledge where you went wrong. But never tolerate any of these events in your life as they are toxic, destructive, debilitating, and can be fatal. And if you find yourself as the abuser, seek help immediately. It is never too late to better yourself and the ones you love. Address it now and make sure you are grounded in your values for the future.

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If you or someone you know is being affected by abuse and needing support, call 1-800-799-7233, or if you are unable to speak safely, you can log onto thehotline.org or text LOVEIS to 1-866-9474.

You are not alone.

Koreena Birdwell1 Comment