baby steps

walking towards a restart

hi lovely readers,

It’s been a hell of a two months and I’ve somehow avoided New York entirely, scared that being here will repeat last winter’s deep sadness that I somehow still feel like I just climbed out of. It’s like when you’ve experienced trauma and can’t go back to the same place that it occurred in of fear that it’ll jolt your PTSD. However, that PTSD was not a fleeting moment but my life here entirely; one I can’t escape anymore.

And one I don’t want to escape anymore. But the thing is, it’s my fight or flight response to quite literally book the flight and leave instead of facing the harder alternative of reality. The reality is that New York is impossibly lonely. But at the same time, it’s a place of so much silliness and endless desire. Both can be true. Both are New York. In one single day I can feel like a seesaw, moving from both ends of the spectrum in the matter of hours. That’s the beauty and the distress of living in a place that celebrates so much despair and equally so much hope.

After some fresh inspiration in Thailand, I was truly excited about coming back. I was ready to hit play on the life I knew I should be achieving here and watch it play out accordingly. I would start writing my next book, attend every networking event, start singing again, find more friends while keeping up with the ones I already made, start a new job, and continue the never ending search for a partner. ~ Easy, right?

I convinced myself I would jump right back into the momentum as a way to mask my anxieties about coming back. But of course, the second I landed in the cold and dry East Coast air, I felt a panic attack crawling up my spine like a slithering virus that wanted to attach to me and never let go. I shook it off long enough to get me to sleep, until it showed itself in a restless insomnia that lasted hours. Next thing I knew, I was paralyzed in a life that looked familiar but didn’t feel that way at all. The time away made me feel more like a stranger than a resident.

In my quest to jump start my life again, I ended up crashing the vehicle instead. So now, I’m learning slowly how to rebuild the parts; consciously adding in things that can help me find my pace again. I’ve earned enough grace to go slow this time.

Some people have a word that describes them best. I of course, have a phrase. Ricominciare da zero, to start from the beginning.

Although daunting, I’m addicted to the hope that follows a fresh start. I might have moved to New York a year ago, but this New York feels like an entirely new and uncharted territory awaiting my eager feet to walk through it.

So with that, I’ll start with baby steps.

xx