I'm moving to New York City.
Two months ago I took a job as the marketing and outreach person at Modest Needs Foundation, and oh, how fun I thought it would be to work from home and make my own hours. I would go the gym every day! I would blog in the park! I would meet friends for lunch or tea!
Instead I sit in my studio in the perpetual fog, or bundle up in a coat and scarf and sit by myself in some drafty coffee shop until I'm so over-caffeinated that my teeth shake.
I became depressed. I gained weight. I drank too much. It wasn't a good scene.
Apparently I don't have the discipline it takes to work from home. Structure and camaraderie and a place go to each day that is not my couch is what I need.
So, I am moving to New York City.
It's not just so that I don't have to work from home anymore, but because (cue cliche) I've always wanted to live in New York. And I've only ever lived in two places--both awesome in their own way--but I want more. I want to know what it's like to wake up in a city that never sleeps in a place with no horizon, only buildings and more buildings and more buildings, and nine million people. I want to learn new train lines. I want to develop a new accent. I want to carve out my own experience in one of the most challenging, but potentially most rewarding cities in the world. I want to not look back with regret. I want to follow my bones to the place they feel they should be.
This move, this step forward, is not without its intense sadness. Despite my deep and overwhelming love for the person whom I've spent two and a half years exploring Northern California with, I have chosen to go it in New York alone. It's heartbreaking. But it's something that needs to happen, for me. I need this time to come into my own, something other people do much earlier in life. It took a while for me to grow up enough to get there.
I am lucky and blessed that my dear friend and partner is an amazing man. I went to him scared and anxious with my plans and what I wanted, and he smiled at me. He took my hand and said he understood--how could he argue?--and then he told me that he was very proud of me. And that he knew it took courage to reveal my wishes to him. And that while it would suck for a while, that he was very happy for me. And that he knew exactly what it was like to feet drawn to a place, and he also knew exactly what it was like to need to be alone for a while. Thank God I don't have to give up this phenomenal man's friendship, because we make a good team.
It was a loving, mature, clean split that hurts like hell.
But, I'd always regret not going if I didn't go. I feel the pull.
I'm going to miss the shit out of San Francisco. And Ian. And the kind people here who are generous enough to call me a friend.
But, it's time to go.
It's going to be hard and scary and wonderful and wacky and a whole bunch of other things I could never, ever anticipate.
I have a lot to learn.
So, I am moving to New York.
And I broke up with my boyfriend.
And I feel like I am going to throw up.
I can't even wrap my mind around what's coming next. Best to channel the Buddha and just live in the moment, I suppose.
Holy shit, I am moving to New York.
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