It’s late on a Saturday in New York City. The regular bustle overheard from my street facing windows is now but a small buzz as city dwellers scurry along their way. I just ordered my first fatkini (oh hell yeah) from ASOS and am sitting on my couch in my jammies and skullcandy headphones listening to music.
I have been thinking this weekend what makes that sure feeling in your gut that you made a good or bad decision? What mixture of butterflies, vomit, assurance, and courage go into making up your mind about something and sticking with it?
I moved to New York City based for mainly these three reasons: 1: I wanted to prove to myself that I can do hard things. 2. I watched season 1 and 2 of GIRLS and thought, “hey, being a 20-something train wreck in New York looks like fun”. 3. I wanted to build my career in PR and figured there was no better place than this city.
After packing my life up and listening to “New York, New York” from Sinatra a few times, I ventured to this concrete jungle with two suitcases and a hope that I would grow. I am almost a complete year out from that first redeye to JFK. Thinking back on when I said bye to my sister for the summer, standing on the platform for the E train on 51st street, I realized as the subway doors closed that I was truly alone and on my own. That realization has both terrified and fueled me. It makes my heart beat fast and causes my eyes to well up with tears – for I am both proud and sorrowful. Proud of every day I have succeeded here – every day I have learned, communicated, pitched, failed, and woke up the next day to do it all again. I feel sorrow in the moments where I miss my family, friends, and home. Cause I do, so deeply.