Doing Things That Scare Me: Episode 1 — Me Vs. New York
I always knew I’d wind up in Hell…
With a new lifestyle come new challenges. In my case, as a fresh New Yorker, the challenges are a bit… more challenging.
Aside from the basic concerns about safety, finances, getting around and general wellness (not to mention my amusing inclination for spaciness, which very obviously and comically contrasts to the optimal New Yorker…), the transition to the go-go pace and being away from those close to me has been the hardest.
My staunch support of a cozy lifestyle, far away from corporate hustle, won’t quite thrive here.
However, I made a move to challenge myself, get out of my bubble and embrace my precious potential. (Alert the media! We have another one!) Trading my comfort zone for a deeper pool of opportunity seemed like a fair gamble.
Having just moved to Manhattan (specifically, the Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood), I decided it would be a good idea to document my growth and hold myself accountable for the lofty goals I set for myself.
For the longest time, I’ve wanted to get more comfortable doing traditionally social things alone so that I don’t need to rely on others to travel to places I want to see and do things I want to do.
Thus, after this abrupt life change and insertion into the metropolis of the world, I will attempt to do things that scare me every day.
“Scare” is fluid here. It could be something as daring as venturing solo to the farthest and most unknown and intimidating circles of social bustle, or something as simple as riding the subway (which I’ve done a number of times, even solo, but I definitely don’t feel comfortable).
I told myself to push myself each day — even an inch.
I likely won’t write about every incident, but I have to start somewhere…
Thus, I bring you to my first venture.
*** Doing Things That Scare Me: Episode 1 ***
Move to New York City.
Step outside of my apartment.
The end.
(*Insert audience laughs*)
Jokes aside, those two statements can each stand alone as their own “scary” entries. The move has been one big chunk of anxiety, so we’re tacking it as: Goal One — done.
(Hell’s yeah!)
In all truth, though, getting myself outside on my first day here with no purposeful destination actually felt super awkward. I literally and figuratively had no sense of direction, and my anxiety was creeping in.
I told myself I would simply cross the street to CVS and get a couple things I needed.
“Just act natural.” “It’s OK if you’re new here.” (The store was on the right side, right? I just turn right? *Google Maps street* *Mentally prepares for street attitude* *Walks 50 feet.*)
After some slow wandering and natural overthinking… success. Just like any other store.
OK. Great.
Right back up to my room.
It’s safe there…
“That was kind of puny,” I think to myself. Surely I’m capable of more than that. I didn’t come here to sit on my bed.
(This is coming from someone curious and adventurous who loves to explore and experience new sights and sensations, but someone who has gotten used to staying in the majority of the time as a work-from-home professional with the luxury of a private car. It’s become a process for me to venture out of the solitude of my abode, as if it were a special task rather than the norm.)
In my defense, my nerves were still shot from the stressful days that just passed. I was working on limited sleep. I pondered if exploring the town was an appropriate action so soon. So, I did the next sensible thing.
I ate.
Stood there and stared at the wall for a bit. Tabled the existential dread.
Then I had enough sound mind to decide it was OK to walk down the street, into the urban jungle…
“It’s OK if people look at me.” “Right is up, left is down.” (Are we sure this move — to f*cking Manhattan — was a good idea?)
I had grown up coming to the city constantly, continuing very frequent outings well into my adulthood. I even worked here briefly. I felt comfortable — even at home — here as a visitor. Why was I making the act of functioning as a resident here such a colossal endeavor?
It’s a “me” versus “it” mentality, but there is no real enemy to be found.
I snapped myself out of it. I walked a bunch of blocks. (I have to admit, I had my friend on the phone for the majority of the call… but that’s what friends are for, isn’t it?)
I had my game face on. The face that says, “Don’t mess with me… even though I’m 100 pounds and don’t really know where I’m going.”
Made it back in one piece with a normal heart rate.
After the first taste of the immediate area, I told myself I’d go farther each time.
Baby steps.
It’s so simple in theory, but in the midst of a culture shock, it takes a certain deal of energy to tackle it with the right mindset.
Having two female roommates my age certainly eases the notion of needing to venture out alone all the time for the period I’m here (I signed a 5-month lease to get my feet wet), but I went into this not expecting to rely on potential friendships as crutches. (Both of my roommates travel a lot, so I am equally cursed and *blessed* with solitude.)
I know a number of people who work/live around here, but I don’t quite have a consistent “exploring’” companion, so to speak.
So, I’m preparing myself to live like a stranger in a strange land.
Over the course of the week, I edged out a bit more. Went out with a roommate. Ventured to a random deli. Even walked straight past three shouting men about to get into a fistfight after sundown. (In retrospect, that was borderline foolish.)
When I walk, people move. LOL.
Seeing these things written out, I realize how trivial — dare I say pathetic — they can seem. But it also makes me realize what a mountain the mind can make of a molehill.
Not to discredit my fears, but I have a feeling that what is to be feared most is not this awe-inspiring melting pot that is New York City. It’s my own brew.
Me versus me. Or rather, the current me versus the “me” I think I should be.
I think it would do all of us some good to look deeper at what really intimidates us about our anticipated experiences. Then we can meet our challenges with a wiser approach.
No matter how miniscule something can seem in the grand scheme of things, often the smallest acts can change our perspectives and remind us what we’re capable of in spirit. And we (as well as our worlds) can only expand from there.
We try new things. We push our boundaries. It doesn’t matter how little those boundaries are. It’s our resolve to see them through and the newfound sense of possibility — which continues to grow — that mold us in the ways that truly count.
The world is outside; beyond our comfort zones.
Go ahead and make moves. Cross those streets. Get to the other side.
If we see things through, we just might make it out; not only alive… but ALIVE.
As a woman I met fittingly said, “Welcome to Hell’s Kitchen.”
