Breakthrough.

It's my last full day of vacation in New Orleans and, for the twin-first-time experiences in both this city and at the National Association of Black Journalists Convention, I've had my eyes opened. The path has been illuminated again; my free spirit hadn't died, as I feared—it had only lost its shine.

Don't think outside the box—there is no box.

My career goals were the primary line item in my agenda during this trip, and it wasn't long before I was forced to discard this mission-oriented mindset. First, I found myself humbled at the feet of evaluators representing a significant number of broadcast outlets—praising what I do well and admonishing me on what can be improved.

One of the most-pointed comments (that I'm willing to share) suggested that, by and large, I'm progressing well for having been in the industry for nearly three years, but have not yet cracked the ceiling; "solid" but "safe" and not all the way "standout." Phrased in a more relatable way, think Disney's Hercules: the demigod believes himself ready to ascend to the realm of the gods. Zeus, in turn, acknowledges his achievements but notes there's something still missing.

This isn't a problem, really. I've been increasingly hearing the word "more" lately, to take risks and actually do things that separate one man from the pack. As far as my presentation is concerned... message now received. Creativity and risk taking are now on deck.

Community is more important than you know.

This was the hardest and the most liberating thing for me to stomach. To have been in the minority 99% of the time in my life, it became necessity to remain mentally and emotionally shielded. Here's the risk in that: when isolated from others like you for so long, you do become a lone wolf, hardened and unaware of the benefits the pack will bring. In my case, I'd accepted a particular quality of life, justifying this as a requirement and consequence of my goals.

This came up in conversation.

A fellow journalist asked if I'm happy where I am. I explained that although I like what I do, with what I'm trying to accomplish, my happiness is currently irrelevant (admittedly, a circuitous way to avoid simply saying "no").

Another man overheard me say this and jumped in.

"No, man. That's bullsh**. You cannot possibly believe this. It is important to your life that you are happy. It's one thing to not be content, but you cannot neglect your happiness."

Gut punch. Although I find ways to occupy my time, I'm doing everything in my power to mask, avoid, rationalize, deny, or otherwise not deal with general unhappiness. I am not living my best life, and I know it.

Most significantly, I was given the opportunity, elusive to this point, to relate my experiences to those of other journalists of color, uninhibited by the need to ensure no one is listening. Free from the worry that such vulnerability could be taken advantage of.

Consider the alternatives.

Along those lines, another increasingly frequently-said thing to me when news directors view my work is something along the lines of "I want to make a news anchor out of you." I heard it again this week and, like everything else I've heard this week, I have to take it under serious advisement. I'm no stranger to the anchor chair.

I've also long resisted the march toward digital-first media—a notion rooted in the idea that the polished broadcast personality is typically less necessary. After numerous conversations with those who work in the digital-first space, I've come to understand and embrace its draw. Accessibility and relatability are enhanced (especially with a mobile device focus), allowing for more intimate storytelling. Less bound by legacy media ideals, the modern digital journalist is able to tap more into creativity, while still being held to high standards.

Give yourself permission to enjoy life.

Like I said, I am fully aware that I am not living my best life. It's rather fitting that a return to the South would unlock this revelation for me, and it's encouraged me to continue letting go; be more open to life, and take more steps to stop holding back so much.

The people I've met here, while all on various degrees of vacation/networking, have rejuvenated me. I can return to work ready to become the best Norman Seawright III that I can.

I am beyond grateful. I will be back.

(I wasn't present for the drama involving Omarosa. Kinda wish I had been. Also—NOLA hand grenades, I am told, contain Everclear. That...explains a lot.)