New York City: My Beloved Bitch

New York City: My Beloved Bitch

As tears stream down my face I say goodbye to a city I have called home for the past 8 years. The beautiful skyline shines back at me as the plane makes a sharp turn and heads west, the city, unaware and undaunted by my escape. It’s true, only the strong survive in this city so brimmed with fulfilled and broken dreams. My mom recently told me that when I was about 12 years old I looked at her and said with conviction that I would one day live in NYC. Although I don’t remember this (I was 12 for God sake, I’m sure I said lots of things I don’t remember!), I am proud to say that my childhood dream of living in New York City has been fulfilled. Living in this epicenter of culture has been a bumpy and eventful ride to say the least.  And although I’ve mostly had a love/hate relationship with New York I am proud to say I did it. I not only survived I eventually thrived and have lived to tell the tale. Ha!

The adventure began when I was 21, fresh out of college and excited about all that life had to offer. I’d interned the summer before as a rising senior and had the TIME OF MY LIFE! I mean, who wouldn’t? I had no bills, had a bunch of new friends through my internship program, all the money I made I spent shopping and I literally partied every night. Tables, bottles, friends and fun! That’s what the City represented to me at the time. Coming into work hung-over after staying out until 3am was commonplace. I was living the life! When I came to the city after college I was excited to re-live my previous summer fun but this time as a real adult with a real job! I had plans, goals and actions that needed to be taken. My 5-year plan was set and I only estimated living in New York for 2, maybe 3 years tops…Ohh how little you know at 21…6 months after moving, I’d quit my awful job with no backup plan and cried almost every day. Quarter life crisis hit me hard and I wasn’t the only one. Almost all of my friends were going through their respective issues and the perils of adjusting to life after college. Life was HARD! And it hit you like a ton of bricks. I lived in a lovely 3 bedroom apt in Harlem. (I’d liked to note at this point in my writing that I am obviously still under the guise of NYC standards of living. The apt in Harlem, although big and on a quiet tree lined street was, in fact, not lovely at all. It was infested with roaches and on more than one occasion I spotted a mouse scurrying under the couch...So I’ll just say it was nice for NYC 40k a year standards.) Anyway back to my story.

Not at the time, of course, but looking back on it, those first years were fast and hard. They flew by and before I knew it I was in the swing of things…in a way. Getting into the swing of things in New York City means you better roll with the punches! You’re apt becomes infested with bedbugs? Get over it. Its over 100 degrees and you have no A/C? Oh well! The train broke down because of a “sick” passenger and you were late to an interview? Who cares!? These things were just a part of the charm of living in the big city and of course stories to tell your friends and family. I worked in fashion, I went back to school, I traveled and I learned something new almost everyday. The adventure was never ending and I endured, almost broken, but never willing to give up. I would watch movies or TV shows based in NYC and feel proud of the place I called home. I even started to think of myself as a jaded New Yorker.  I complained about the city and always talked about moving but somehow it just never came to fruition. The city has a way of holding on tight, just when you think you’re done for good she pulls you back to her bosom, nuzzles you and licks your wounds, just to throw you back on the ground and kick you. It’s a never-ending cycle of abuse and reconciliation.   

Through these 8 years of living in New York City, 4 were spent in Harlem and 4 were spent in Brooklyn. Brooklyn has my heart but I feel I’ve gotten the best of both worlds. Through the roaches, robbery, terrible jobs, shady neighborhoods, Hurricane Sandy, crazy bums, extreme stench, insurmountable filth, rats in the subways, mice in the apartments and unfathomable temperatures, I endured. I always had the best partner, friends and family to support me along the way. When times were tough I figured out a way to cope with their support and love. Thank you all for helping to make me a stronger person but most of all thank you New York City, my beloved bitch.