Made in Partnership with 
It never fails; Black Love’s content will always push my thinking around what I believe is possible in love and relationships. “Couch Conversations”, now available on the Black Love+ app, has done just that. There have just been too many stories of strong, long-lasting partnerships that have endured eyebrow-raising circumstances and lip-pursing situations only to come out stronger on the other side. Glenn and Shafondra are easily in my top 5 if for no other reason than they demonstrate perfectly that love is more layered than screenplays, and what you think you’ll do in a given situation might change when you’re face-to-face with it.
It was Glenn’s story that stood out to me the most, honestly because it sounded like a movie. After a chance meeting in undergrad, Glenn and Shafondra would go on on to date for 15 years before getting married…the first time. In their first year of marriage, Glenn found himself faced with new obstacles that when combined with old coping mechanisms and a lack of self-understanding, meant things could quickly go from bad to worse. Glenn would soon start seeking familiar outlets to cope with the stress. “I dealt with binge drinking,” Glenn explained. “I was going out, doing a lot of drinking, partying, spending money, living recklessly, getting arrested several times…I decided to go to therapy for that reason but I’d also had an affair at the same time.” That was Shafondra’s tipping point — the moment she decided things were too far gone and divorce was their only option.
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Outside of the sheer magnitude of their challenges, there was something that stood out to me in Glenn and Shafondra’s story. To hear it in full, I can only imagine how many people would widen their eyes and say “that could never be me,” but to me Glenn’s story seemed understandable. And what’s more frightening, it seemed familiar.
As Glenn described the consequences of his behaviors, I stayed focused on where he felt like it began – binge drinking. One drink turning into a night he honestly couldn’t remember and him being unable to manage that. For Glenn it was binge drinking, but for some it’s sex, for some it’s food, for some it’s another drug or behavior that – the thing that helps you numb or silence the voices if only for a little while. So just as my mind began drifting to “that could never be me,” it quickly countered with “that was you.” While I hadn’t lost my family or been arrested for it, there have been times pre-therapy when a lack of mental health could’ve cost me my life, but also there are (and will always be) moments that could put me back down that path; the same path Glenn is talking about.
If therapy has taught me anything it’s that mental health is a practice. It’s not something you do to get it over with, but rather something you will continue to strive toward as life comes at you. That’s a hard truth to accept – that you’ll never really be done – but Glenn understood “I was confused and there were a lot of things I wasn’t happy about that I needed to figure out through therapy.” I don’t take it for granted when I see a Black man with the self-awareness Glenn had. Not because I think it’s anything groundbreaking, but because we aren’t socialized to truly think about our experiences. Raised in the South, even knowing I likely wouldn’t have a conventional relationship, my goal was achievement and success. You have to provide. You have to break generational cycles. You have to quiet the voices, quit the whining, and do it. Even my self-talk, the inner voice in my head, is more often ruthless and detached rather than warm and reflective despite years of therapy. This is why I can appreciate seeing a Black man acknowledge his challenges and go a step further to say “I need help with this.”
I’ve never assumed that love was a given. Theoretically, I know that love is a birthright that each of us deserves, but it’s not guaranteed that we will. I’ve seen too many instances of children in loveless homes, people in loveless marriages, and have even felt what it means to lose love for yourself. I’ve always understood all forms of love to be something that require effort. Effort to give it and effort to receive it. Glenn clearly understood that rock bottom for him wasn’t being arrested, but instead waking up alone after Shafondra told him to leave. It was realizing that the damage he’d done to himself was one thing, but he’d actually lost one of the few things that kept him going — his family.
I can’t lie; personal accountability takes strength. Yes it should be a given, but we clearly don’t live in a world of should’s. Glenn’s journey was a reminder for me as a man that when you’re going nonstop, trying to go harder and farther, falling into the day-to-day, things can veer off-course if I’m not careful. One moment or thought that might seem small and fleeting could quietly multiply in the background. That one thought could turn into a few that slowly knock me off balance and it’s not my partner’s responsibility to keep me upright. Taking accountability and facing hard self-truths weren’t the only things that helped Glenn and Shafondra find their way back to each other, but it was clear that this was Glenn’s work to do. That it started with him. Living in what feels like a new era of health and wellness for Black men, I can’t help but feel like this is the key. The key to our success, to pouring into our community, and ultimately to our love.
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