Reflection, Not Regret: Why Leaving Home Was the Start of Becoming Me

Marcus D. Taylor, MBA
Jun 7
5 min read

Updated: Jun 13

One of the best things that ever happened to me wasn’t a promotion, degree, or accolade—it was the moment I learned to accept the flaws in myself. To acknowledge them, not as anchors holding me back, but as lessons waiting to be learned. I didn’t dwell on them. I reflected, evaluated, and grew. That’s how I live—not in regret, but with purpose shaped by reflection.

I left my hometown—Memphis and the surrounding Mississippi area—in 1998. That decision changed the trajectory of my life. I wasn’t running from anyone or anything. I was running toward something—space. Space to breathe, to think, to live on my own terms. Like many young adults with old souls, I stepped into responsibility early—working right after high school, heading to Texas for college, exploring military service, searching for direction.

Back home, I saw cycles I didn’t want to repeat—family pain, broken relationships, suppressed dreams. While I respect everyone’s journey, I couldn’t see my purpose clearly in that environment. I knew I was called to something more, even if I didn’t know what “more” looked like yet.

That uncertainty didn’t scare me. What scared me more was stagnation.

Over the years, I’ve shaped a habit that became a cornerstone of how I grow: the After Action Review (AAR). It’s a military practice I’ve applied to my everyday life. Every conversation, every disagreement, every success—I assess it:

Did I reach my goal?
Did I align with my values?
Could I have done better?
What should I repeat, improve, or avoid?

This habit of reflection—not rumination—has kept me grounded and propelled me forward. It’s taught me that growth is intentional. I’ve also learned that I can’t expect others to grow just because I want more from them. I can only control what I give. And I give freely—not for recognition, but because I remember the times I needed someone to give to me.

I pour into people the way I wish someone had poured into me when I was younger—when I lacked direction, when I was a young professional making poor decisions, when I just needed someone to say, “I see you. Let’s figure this out.”

Eventually, someone did say that to me. They modeled strength, wisdom, and integrity—and that made all the difference.

Now, I try to be that model for others.

A Pivotal Moment

There’s a moment in my life that still stands out—a conversation that shaped my understanding of growth, acceptance, and the truth about the place I once called home.

After years of military service and traveling, I returned to Memphis to visit my friends. I was excited to share my experiences, the things I’d learned, and how far I had come. I wanted to show them that I wasn’t broke anymore—that the struggles we all faced back in the day didn’t define me. I walked into one of my old friend’s houses, anticipating a warm reunion.

But then, something unexpected happened. One of my childhood friends, someone I thought I knew well, looked at me from across the room, staring with intensity. I asked him what was wrong, why he looked so upset. Without warning, he exploded.

“Mane, you fake! All you do is come here and talk about what you’ve done. Nobody wants to hear that ish!”

I was stunned. This was my friend. We’d been through so much together—yet here he was, blasting me with a truth I wasn’t ready to hear. The rest of the guys in the room kind of brushed it off, no defense, no stand for me. Just an uncomfortable silence. But that’s when it hit me—I was no longer at home here.

At that moment, I realized: this wasn’t my home anymore. These were friends from the past, and some things had changed permanently. I had changed. They moved on differently, and that wasn’t their fault.

What hurt wasn’t just his words—it was that I had failed to understand how my excitement and growth might have made them feel. In my zeal to share my successes, I hadn’t listened to their struggles. And that stung.

But in that pain, I found clarity: I was no longer the person I once was—and Memphis was no longer my home. I haven’t spoken to that person since. That moment, nearly 23 years ago, marked the quiet but permanent closing of a chapter I didn’t realize had already ended.

The Next Version of Me

After learning who I was, I had to realize I still wasn’t the complete person I was striving to be. That was never the point. Growth doesn’t end when you “arrive.” It continues every day. That mindset—always evolving, always refining—has shaped everything I do.

I realized I am in a constant state of redefining myself because I’m always discovering new methods, new ideas, and new truths about who I am, what I value, and who I’m becoming. Some people may not seem to change, but everyone’s moving—some slow, some fast, some so quickly they lose sight of who they were. And that, too, can be dangerous.

I don’t want to be in conflict with my total self. I embrace all of me: who I was, who I am, and who I am becoming. My mind has changed. My decisions, my temperament, my patience, my zeal—all of it has matured.

When my wife and I had young children, we were one type of parents. When they became teenagers, we became another. Now that they’re young adults, we must evolve again. Parenting doesn’t stop—it transforms.

The same goes for every area of my life. I’ve retired from the Army, and I’m building a new career in academia. These are transitions. These are growth phases. And with each transition, I reevaluate what I’m doing and why I’m doing it.

That’s where the AAR comes back in. Whether in life, leadership, marriage, parenting, or purpose, I ask:

What was the goal?
Did I accomplish it?
What do I sustain?
What do I improve?

Once I know those answers, I create a game plan. I take the best of what worked, build on it, and improve what didn’t. I control what I can control, find resources to support what I can’t, and move forward.

Mission on.

Reflection Questions for Readers

What moment in your life marked the beginning of your self-discovery?
Do you find yourself living more in reflection or regret? Why?
What environments helped you grow—and which ones held you back?
How do you assess your decisions? Do you have a personal system like an After Action Review?
Who poured into you when you needed it most? How are you doing the same for others today?
If you could give your younger self one model to follow, what values would that person embody?
What does your life say to others when no words are spoken?
Have you ever experienced a moment where you realized you were no longer the person you once were? What did that moment teach you?
What areas of your life need a new “version” of you right now? Are you resisting that growth?

Final Thoughts

Life doesn’t always hand us perfect conditions for growth. Sometimes we have to create space—mentally, emotionally, geographically—to figure out who we are. I didn’t leave my hometown because I hated it. I left because I loved the idea of who I could become if given the room to grow.

Reflection, not regret—that’s how I move forward.

And maybe that’s how you can, too.