MY LOVE LETTER TO THE CITY THAT SAVED ME

Carrie Bradshaw once said, “If Louis was right, and you do only get one great love… New York may just be mine,” and I felt that.

Life is just a huge book. Each chapter a different season of life.

Lately I’ve done a little reflecting on my seasons of life so far. Some were pretty ordinary and some have been life-changing. Such as my 6 months in New York City. The 6 months that ultimately saved me.

I came to New York extremely insecure. I had crippling social anxiety. The fear of how others viewed me or what strangers thought of me controlled my life — what I wore, what I did, where I went, who I hung out with. All I wanted to do was fit in and prove that I was enough. To who?? I literally don’t know. To any and everyone I guess.

I sought validation from likes on Instagram. From what boys at the bar thought of me. From what a room full of girls said about me. Every person I encountered, I had anxiety about being “enough” for them — and it was EXHAUSTING.

But New York City has healed me. Or I suppose its shown me that all along I’ve had the tools needed to heal myself. I learned how to be alone. Like TRULY be alone. And not because I have actually been alone, in fact I have been surrounded by some of the best people I have ever met in my entire life. Along with an additional 8.4 million individuals.

There’s something incredible about being neighbors with millions of people but somehow feeling so distant from each and every one of them. New York city demands you to be painfully aware of your loneliness. And I have never truly been alone until now. I’ve always been able to retreat back to my family at the end of the day or have been in a college scene where I can hang out with friends 24 hours a day if I wanted to.

I read a quote by Bruce Lee that said, “Loneliness is only an opportunity to cut adrift and find yourself. In solitude you are least alone,” and that shit HIT ME. I remember the exact moment actually. I was sitting at Battery Park by myself on my second week in the city just people watching for 4 hours.

There were people everywhere. Cute boys skateboarding, old couples sharing ice cream, families playing with their dog, girls doing yoga. And for the first time ever, I caught myself not wondering what they were all thinking about me. There were too many people in passing for me to take the time to care. For the first time in my entire life I did not feel the need to impress people around me. Or maybe I just realized that nobody cares even half of the amount I think they do.

I realized that day that I cannot keep neglecting myself. I promised that I would make it my mission to be okay with it just being me. And hold onto that feeling that I felt in Battery Park.

I bought a journal, cleaned out every social media account, and Google searched “how to be alone,” to figure out where to start. I knew how to workout and I knew how to eat clean. I actually used those things to hide from my lack of self-value. The real game changer was just taking the time to understand and acknowledge all of my feelings.

So I began journaling. I began listening to podcasts. I made it my mission to become more educated and self-aware. I forced myself to sit in silence and focus on my thoughts. I felt soooo uncomfortable at first, but it helped me identify my emotions before turning to someone or something else for validation of them.

And I cannot put into words how freeing it has been.

There have now been times where I catch myself do things that I never before would’ve. I wore a crop top and jeans to The MET. I don’t ask for validation from my girlfriends when choosing an outfit to wear. I don’t check my phone first thing in the morning to see if someone has texted me. I post literally whatever the hell I want to on Instagram and don’t check to see how many likes I get. I value people’s hearts more. I take more time to understand and show people that I care about them. I am more opinionated and confident to speak on my beliefs.

And I have New York City to thank for pushing me towards the desperate healing that I needed to free my soul.

I realized that everyone is marching to the beat of their own drum. Its inspiring really. There are so many different and creative types of people. It made me realize that I can be whoever the hell I want to be. Being on the subway and surrounded by people from all walks of life — what feels like a 100 different languages being spoken among one another. Realizing that there are also 8.4 million different reasons that people have come to (or have remained) in this city.

Some people move to New York City to pursue big career dreams or because they landed a dream job. I moved here to find myself. To rip off all things of familiarity and dig to my core.

I got to casually say things like “I’ll be to Grand Central in 15,” and become familiar with navigating the subways without a GPS.

While the city skyline at sunset (which happens to be like 4:30pm) and rooftop bars with views of the Empire State building are nice, those are not the things that I will remember the most from this season of life.

I will remember:

• Arguing with Jared over math equations and who’s homework is harder — the 5th grader’s or the junior in college’s?
• Susie coming to my room every evening to play dress up in my clothes and ask for her picture to be taken. (literally me in an 8 year olds body)
• Taylor texting in our Cohort B group text every Thursday morning at 9am saying “Trader Hoe’s run today?” and we would drive around jamming to Taylor Swift and old throwbacks.
• The weekend Elizabeth met up with some Colombian dude named Michael from Tinder and then talked me into going to a party at their apartment later that night. Now they are dating and we are all best friends.
• My first trip on the train into Grand Central thinking “there is no f****** way this is actually my life.”
• Accidentally spending AT LEAST $200 every weekend because everything is so damn expensive.
• My first snow storm, snowball fight, and the kids teaching me the correct way to shovel the driveway.
• Finding out that apparently us southerners have been doing it wrong our whole lives and that lemon DOES in fact belong in diet coke
• Taking the wrong subway like 57,876 times and ending up in Times Square EVERY. TIME.
• Sitting in Washington Square Park hungover on Sunday mornings watching people do yoga or play instruments (the SMELL from Saturday nights<<)
• Going on a drunken bike ride through Manhattan at 2am
• The many nights spent just chilling, talking, and enjoying each other’s company at the Building 3 apartment (that Elizabeth and I literally took over — sorry Michael and Ale) ((now we are onto 4))

The list could really go on and on. And for that I am SO THANKFUL.

Although it was short-lived, not an ounce of me regrets moving to New York City. And I have absolutely NO doubt that I will be returning. My time here is not anywhere near over, in fact I think it’s just beginning. I’ve made the greatest city in the world, my home.