17 January 2018

I forgot about SYML. I forgot about In My Body – EP, and I forgot all about Wildfire. I’m sure for a couple weeks after the 17th of January, I listened to the song and EP, but otherwise, I haven’t listened to it since. Well, until now, as it loops on my laptop as I write this post.

This post isn’t about how I discovered a song, but rather what the song meant to me on this date two years ago. I was nervous about getting on the 6-train Uptown and meeting a man to talk my truth. I paced midtown for about an hour, scoping out a bar for the two of us to meet and talk. I know he was mad or upset at me, probably a little scared about what I was going to say. I had my headphones tethering my music to my ears. I believe I discovered SYML days before, so I shuffled the albums I had of theirs. As I approached the Bloomberg Tower on 59th, I looked up as the second verse played.

In good time, you’ll come to know
When you release, when you let go
You can find yourself where you belong
You’re not a curse, you’re not too much
You are needed here, you are enough
And nothing’s gonna hold you down for long

On the 16th, I finally let go. I couldn’t wait to tell him that I let go, and I found myself where I belonged because, for the first time since I had moved to the city five months prior I, felt like I belonged in New York — I felt like I was enough. For the prior five months, I felt as if everything that was happening was an omen to what I deserved. I thought I was cursed or destined to fail because I felt like the people I was meeting were the ones who were defining my worth here.

I stared up and looked at the mirrored panes and saw my reflection looking back at me. I saw me here in New York, and I watched as I let go of everything that had happened prior. And because of that, I saw the way my reflection smiled back at me as the orchestra grew louder and louder in my ears.

I met the man with the most fabulous smile and broke the disappointing news, but I headed his fear and showed him that it was the best thing I could have ever done. That nothing was clouding my mind, and I was ready to start fresh and take in everything ahead of me, including him. After grabbing drinks and snacks at the bar, I walked him back to the Bloomberg Tower and made him stand in the spot and listen to the song that I had played on repeat. I stood in silence and looked up.

Darling, please don’t give up
Drop your hate and sing for love
Let me be the one who sings along

I looked at him and knew the second I dropped my hate yesterday I could sing for love and sing along with him. Some days since the 17th of January, I have forgotten how I felt and picked the hate back up. It fills me with confusion and fear, and I have to remember to tell myself to put it back and move forward.

Sometimes I forget I live in New York; I’ll get lost in Central Park and forget about the skyscrapers that tower over the city blocks. But now, every time I come from out of the trees and my routine, I smile when I look up and see how the city reflects in their mirrored panes.

**Play the song above while you read this post. From 2pm on 17 January 2018, until I went to bed, it’s all I listened to.

 

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Growth.

It has been over a year since I started this blog. Since then I have moved and then moved again. I have started graduate school and an internship; I am nearing the completion of both. I turned twenty-three and wonder if I ever updated my about me (I didn’t—now I did). I went through heartbreak and I am giving relationships a second chance.  I made new friends and left toxic new “friends” behind.

There have been radical changes in my year, and yet I still have more growing to do. I have seen so much growth, but part of me craves more while still wondering what it is I want to grow into.

Grow–grō/

verb

1.  (of a living thing) undergo natural development by increasing in size and changing physically; progress to maturity.

I want to change physically and mentally. There are toxic aspects to my life that hinder me occasionally and I wonder how to shift these habits into better habits.

I took my first step in a new direction by moving. The East Village was my home for a year. I went in wide-eyed and took in the world around me, by the end of the year I hung my head low and averted my eyes from the strangers that surrounded me.

My neighborhood was desirable, my apartment was impeccable, and my life was coveted. I was a grad student, living in the heart of Manhattan, working a corporate job, sharing a life with an incredibly handsome and supportive boyfriend, but I was uneasy.

I was uneasy heading to school and work. I was uneasy in my talents. I was uneasy in my relationship all because I was anxious about the past.

I had a past life in the Village. I had “friends” I spent my evenings with. I just wanted to fade out of their lives, because they did not make my life any easier. I would walk home from the store and worry about running into one of them. I would dread walking by their usual hangouts because I wondered if they would see me, and I would be forced to ask them how they were doing—because I did not care to know.

I should not have feared it all, but I did. I started developing anxiety around the time I made this blog. It was therapeutic to write down my worries until the day to day anxiety got too much to handle, so I silenced myself. I still could stand up for myself and feel good with my days, but it was a rollercoaster of emotions from my morning alarm and my nightly sleeping pills.

When a letter arrived and it was a notice of my rising rent, I took a moment and thought a new beginning would be best for me. I would miss the East Village, but I was working a block from Union Square. I would never be far from my roots in The City, but I would finally breathe in fresh air in a new neighborhood.

Now that I have moved, I have physically changed. I am on the top floor of a walk-up and feel my calf muscles forming again. I oversee the Upper West Side, which is quiet and quaint. My surroundings have matured, and I can already feel the shift in my attitude while I approach each day.

I am excited for more, and I fear less—that was the growth I was hoping for.