Limbo.

“The city. So many lights you can actually pretend one of ‘em’s shining on you.” *

New York is a city that is beautiful in its wickedness. By living here you are automatically subject to a dysfunctional abusive relationship. It mistreats you, ignores you, beats you up daily. And you keep coming back for more.

In general, New Yorkers are unbelievably resilient. We drink too much, sleep too little, work far too hard and stress about absolutely everything. We get knocked down daily and it doesn’t phase us in the least. In fact it’s expected. We pay too much for our lives and rarely if ever take a break. We have to keep moving- it’s our collective coping mechanism. If we stop, we may have to catch a breath, clear our heads and be in the moment, and nothing terrifies us more. There’s always more, better, and to stop means to lose our chance at attaining the unattainable. So we push and push and push until our bodies or our minds reach their breaking point. When we’re forced to acknowledge and accept the reality of our abusive relationship and consider doing something about it. We see the dark circles under our eyes and recognize that our overstimulated lives are killing us. And it’s time to make a choice. Do I stay or do I go?

“Small town girl she comes to town. Tin of rouge and strapless gown. Dies a lot before she gets to die… but with a smile she’ll say, “that’s the low-down down.”*

We are not unaware of the dysfunction. That’s half the reason many of us came here. It’s hard to focus on the little intimate moments of our silly lives when we’re just focused on survival. And we don’t want to focus on the moments. We answer emails at two in the morning, apply our make-up in rattling subway cars or jolting taxi cabs, eat on the run (if at all) and get the heels of our shoes replaced monthly after beating them down on the city concrete and grates. Just. Keep. Running.

“You swim with sharks in shallow pools. You get bit and them’s the rules. I got bit and almost eaten whole. But I liked it.”*

I consider myself one of the lucky ones. New York didn’t chew me up and spit me out the way it does others. There were many rough times but more beautiful moments. Inspiring, awe-filled moments. And I’m leaving on a high note, and not because I have to. 

I was lucky because I met someone who helped me learn how to slow down. On a cool and rainy December day in California almost two years ago, this someone suggested that we take a nap. It seemed like the perfect thing to do. But I had wi-fi withdrawal anxiety and my head was spinning with a to-do list and thoughts about anything and everything. And I made it clear that I. Don’t. Nap. Ever.

But I laid down with him on the big soft couch and read my book, (my third time through The Great Gatsby). I closed my eyes and woke up an hour later- I had actually relaxed enough to fall asleep, even though I hadn’t worked myself to the point of exhaustion. It was a revelation; I know that something changed then. It’s only once you really experience life outside again that you realize how much your city life is destroying you. 

About a year after that initial moment of self-discovery, I made the decision to leave New York. I didn’t know yet where I would go, but I accepted that it was the best choice for me and my daughter. I had a few options in the works and it all just depended on which way the winds would blow. 

"Passion is not so much an emotion as a destiny. What choice have I in the face of this wind but to put up my sail and rest my oars?" ~ j. winterson

In this entry I’ve been referring to New Yorkers as ‘we’. But this is no longer accurate. Early this morning I packed up the last of my things, turned out the lights of my little Queens apartment and locked the door for the last time. At this moment that I am writing this, I’m in limbo. Most of my things are in a storage unit until the moving company can transport them to my new abode. Right now, at this very moment, I am between homes. But in a few more hours, I will start a new life in a new city.

Maybe I’ll start with a nap.

“People like us… lost… and found…”*

* song lyrics from the Broadway musical “The Wild Party”