1. breaking up
In all of my existence in this lifetime I have never had the pleasure of being the one to break up with someone else. And so this is all very new to me. Although, I’m not breaking up with a person. I’m breaking up with people. Many people. A whole city of people. I’m breaking up with a whole city. I’m breaking up with New York City. And it’s such a strange feeling. I can’t promise we won’t get back together in a few years. In fact, I’d be shocked if this was the end of our affair but I also wouldn’t be shocked if it was. That’s how deep our love goes for one another. We’re happy for each other when we’re together and we’re happy for each other when we’re apart. Our love knows no bounds. Even when I am away from NYC, I carry her with me. She’s a part of me and so we could never be apart.
I have to say, being on this end of things is just as sad as being on the other end. The grieving process is the same on either side of the break up it’s just a matter of grieving before or after the decision to break up has been made. I’m discovering how hard it is to grieve a place, and all that comes with it, while you are still living there. I could feel it before I had the words to call it grieving. I knew I was going to leave New York before I had the words to say it. That’s how most things come to me. I know it before I have a knowing I can speak of. The first wave was pure sadness. I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t get myself to care about anything. I couldn’t show up to work or social hangs with my usual smile and energetic charm. I just wanted to lay down and cry. Hard. Heavily. Mind-numbingly. I weeped so much I had to wash my pillows in the morning.
Slowly, step by step, I crawled out of my heavenly comforter. And wow, did she comfort me. I started being more present at work, I started accepting invites. But instead of waiting on the edge of my seat thinking of all the possible things that could happen - I kept thinking this is some of the last times these things will happen. It was scary. The thought was daunting. Sitting across from a friend and thinking ‘in a years time I’ll no longer be belly-laughing across the table from you.’ It hit me like the final shot of the night sending you over the edge. My world froze. Everything was in slow motion as I panned from one friend to the next. It was only at the thought of no longer seeing my friends that I could see so clearly the depths of love I had for them. They looked like little angels surrounding me. And they were in some ways, my demons in other ways. Like all things in life there is a light side and a dark side and both have immense beauty to be seen.
The best part of breaking up with a city and and not a person is that there isn’t much untangling to do. I didn’t leave my favorite sweater and matching earrings at their apartment and they don’t have a drawer in my closet dedicated to them. I’ve never met NYC’s mother and my father doesn’t text them silly memes from time to time. Guilt-free, I can pack up my stuff and leave whenever I want.
The worst part of breaking up with a city and not a person is that the city is everything around you. It’s the air that fills your lungs and the resources that keep you alive. It’s everything you are and everything you do. It’s where you get your coffee, it’s what you shop for groceries, it’s how you define style, it’s where all of your money goes and it’s the starting point for any other destination on a map.
It’s your home. The physical walls that shelter you and the city lines that address you. When you break up with a person, you lose your sense of identity. When you break up with a city, you lose your sense of place. Instead of asking - “Who am I without so and so?”, you ask “how can I exist outside of NYC?”
And that’s why this has been the hardest break up. I’ve moved many times in my life but I’ve never fallen out of love with a city while still living it. From Maryland to South Carolina to Maryland again to Miami to San Francisco to New York to Chicago to New York again to a brief stint in Maryland due to a pandemic to New York again. I’ve always been chasing something, a school, a career, an opportunity.
I never had to grieve where I was leaving because I was running towards something with a timeline. I had to be in South Carolina to start college. I had to be in Miami to start portfolio school. I had to be in San Franciso to start an internship. I had to be in New York to start another internship. I had to be in Chicago to start a full-time job in advertising. I had to be in New York to start a new job with a new title and new pay in advertising.
But now? I kind of just want to experience a place other than New York. And it’s nothing personal, I love New York to death but I feel like I’ve experienced New York. I’ve gotten to know it’s people (adore). I’ve gotten to know it’s social life (one of a kind but exhausting). I’ve gotten to know it’s hustler spirit (admirable but all consuming). I’ve seen its kindness, its meanness, its optimism and its pessimism. I’ve felt so fucking stressed out and so fucking grateful in the same bite of a $10 croissant. But the truth is, New York is suffocating me.
I feel pulled by the hands of NYC at every limb of my body. It wants me to spend my time running around from errand to errand, social event to social crisis. All while working a high intensity job, making six figures with nothing to show for it because our over-priced rent for our tiny apartments is due every 30 days and the croissants cost are $10 each. Aren’t you paying attention? I just need a little space. And it’s not space from you.
It’s space to see you. To see outside of you, to see beyond you, to see new yorkers from a bird’s eye view, to see the world from an elevated sense of meaning. The buildings and the people are so tightly raveled together in NYC, I can’t see the world beyond them. And I want to be able to see it. So I’m leaving you, NYC.