I’m Moving To New York City — Help
Terror is a strong word. I’d more readily say something like timidity or intimidation describes the feelings in the back of my mind.
On the surface, it’s blissful, reckless abandon… sheer confidence, pride, gratitude, excitement, a vital dose of self-deception, and beautiful naivety.
(I recently posted on social media: “You know Ms. Frizzle? I’m like her flustered cousin, Ms. Frazzle. Except I most certainly cannot operate a bus.”)
Is it possible to have both unavailing self-assurance, resoluteness and peace with my decision while at the same time having doubt, ambivalence and a sense of “What the hell did I just do?” (I cancelled my current lease on impulse. It was like an exhilarating rush of danger — an action that felt like it would call for punishment from an authority — liberation.)
To put things in context… I’m leaving my 800-square-foot apartment with a room-sized walk-in closet (in a huge master bedroom), a walk-in pantry, tons of storage space, a view of trees/nature/birds, lots of light, and a location that’s a stone’s throw from beautiful hiking trails and beaches.
I’m leaving this affordable, one-bedroom apartment for a bedroom that costs more than the entire rent of my current apartment.
Yikes.
(Yeehaw!)
I’ve been talking about doing this for more than a decade.
There was a time when I interned in the city and remember thinking, “I’m kicking butt here. I belong here.” I was in my early 20s, fresh out of college. Of course I had the energy and raw lust for the possibilities of life.
As time went on, I began to falter from that vision of one day making Manhattan my home.
(I was a professional writer just starting out, a performer with minor gigs, and a graduate with big, ambitious dreams of a life in the big city. So. Fucking. Original. Right? Top that with my devourment of “Sex and the City,” and we’ve got ourselves a recipe for a cliche sitcom.)
My career opportunities came in Connecticut. My relationships. My mini bucket-list goals. I got comfortable and figured I’d make a change when the time was right.
Then too many years passed.
Bad things happened… personal setbacks; family troubles.
Good things happened… accomplishments, celebrations, busy projects with writing and singing.
I lost a lot of loved ones. I cowrote a book. I formed relationships and broke them. The world went on.
Now, after everything that has happened these past 10+ years, I feel it’s finally the time to leave my old lifestyle behind. At least, it’s a time I feel most ready to let go of my attachments, fears, doubts, worries, and insecurities.
It’s a time when I have less to lose, but — at the same time — the most to lose. That’s why it’s now or never.
I’ve been approaching the city as if it was something to conquer. Like a colossal but simultaneously petty challenge.
It’s not quite the enemy, but the friend I really want to have.
“Just for a little while. To see what happens…” I claim.
But I know it’s way more than that.
I always dreamed of traveling the world and experiencing living in different cities. Yet, I’ve barely moved far from my hometown. I never wanted to be that person who never ventured off to new horizons. I’m too curious and adventurous for that.
Seeing how some people carry on with a detached kind of presence, traveling and working and moving about frequently, it makes me realize it doesn’t have to be so complicated.
I want to do it, so I’m just doing it.
While I have the chance.
This is shockingly out of character for someone who tries to make all the logical moves and play it safe.
I (over)think things through.
For once in my life, I don’t want to cling so closely to a plan. I want to throw myself into the abyss and choose to deal with what comes my way with fresh eyes.
So no, this isn’t logical (in the traditional sense), and that’s exactly why I’m doing it. At a time when everyone else seems to be moving out of that damned, blessed city.
The philosophy that this is a risk is part of my fuel.
I don’t really have a concrete goal. My purpose is purely personal. Plot twist? I’d have my same job and continue to work remotely. Meet some old friends and try to make new ones. Stick to my wellness rituals, but edge out of the walls a little bit, searching for something more fruitful in the arts world. (That’s about as basic as it gets, doesn’t it? The odd thing is… these are big steps for me.)
I know that I want to get out of my shell, cure some FOMO, and force myself to be in an environment that would make it very difficult to ignore the opportunities and experiences surrounding me. It’s almost as if I’m depending on my environment to dictate my habits and choices for action.
I don’t know if that’s smart or sad.
As if being around all of the creative energy, people and events will make it easier for me to get out of my damn security blanket. As if I don’t trust myself to do it on my own.
But at the same time, I do. I trust myself to do this wild, aimless thing with no endgame in sight.
I keep saying, “I just want to get it out of my system” and “I just want to know that I went for it and didn’t let myself down.”
But I think there’s something deeper going on here; something more specific I’m hoping for; something I haven’t realized yet.
I have to hope I’ll find whatever it is I’m looking for. (A part of myself? A feeling? A connection? All three and more?)
I realize this move won’t solve my problems. It won’t grant me endless happiness. It won’t alter my soul.
But it might shape my character a teeny bit. It might bring me new relationships, professional and creative (and emotional) growth, and wisdom. It might make me feel like I finally cracked the code to a path truer to myself.
Boldly, I’m approaching this with zero expectations and a complete blank slate.
It could be a last, desperate effort to run away from all the things I’m afraid of here and all the things that aren’t working.
Or maybe it’s a profound leap of faith in the greatness of things… and the expectation of a positive future.
Or both.
Funny how sometimes we’re too close to truly know ourselves.
So we go far away from the familiar. Only to seek what feels like home.
To put things in more context, sure… I’m leaving behind my cozy little abode and comfort zone with friends, family and excess financial freedom. But what else am I leaving behind?
-I’m leaving behind a complex on a busy street across from a cemetary. (I swear, my New York apartment is quieter!)
-I’m leaving behind monotony and routine
-I’m leaving behind a stifling sense of security and need to control things all the time
-I’m leaving behind the habit of second-guessing
-I’m leaving behind the sense of a less fruitful path
-I’m leaving behind the rules and limitations
-I’m leaving behind fear
-Last, but not least, I’m leaving behind Bigfoot
It’s almost as if I was waiting for some sort of signal to make my move, like a cue from the universe that I can’t quite pinpoint. But I feel the power of this choice radiating in my bones.
This move feels like it was inevitable.
Most people are ecstatic for me. They didn’t even flinch when I told them. They believe just as much as I do that there’s something calling for me out there in the metropolis of the world. They say I’m brave.
Others are scared for me. They caution me about self-defense, finances and loneliness. They imply I’m rash.
But I’ve received the support I needed, even though I know I would do this with or without the encouragement.
I’m at the point where I have zero tolerance for the slightest backlash or any ounce of negativity. (I’m paranoid as it is. I definitely don’t need other people to worry for me.)
I imagine more people won’t understand why I need to do this for myself. Why it means the world for me to be surrounded with the same positive energy as I have for myself in this transition.
But most understand. They’re the ones I know I can count on during the days I feel lost.
Sometimes we all need help pushing forward.
The highest form of caring I can receive right now is to maintain my confident attitude, lest hypothetical concerns kill my spirit, which would make this entire experience so much more difficult than it has to be.
It is a big deal for me. But it also is coming so naturally, I’m nearly unfazed. A lot of contradictory feelings here.
That’s probably the closest state to life and reality I can think of.
The thing that scares me the most is not my safety or what people will think of me when I do something ridiculous. It’s that I’ll get there and chicken out. Stay in my apartment. Become overwhelmed and paralyzed with daunting opportunities that make me freeze up or run away screaming.
But this is a part of life, anyway. We will always need to face the unknown.
There is so. much. to. behold.
We merely need to take steps toward what feels right.
Was this the greatest thing I could have ever done for myself, or the most stupid?
I guess we’ll find out.
I’m more afraid of not trying.
