NYC and Me: An Unlikely Love Story

It’s a Monday morning, and although I have another hour to sleep in, I find myself wide awake thanks to the sound of shrill car horns and a group of homeless people fighting over something I’d rather not think about at this hour.

I check my phone hoping that this is all a dream, hoping that maybe if I close my eyes I will wake up in London, where I had been living the month before. I pinch my eyelids for a moment, and then realize how foolish I’m being. My eyes scan my minuscule apartment when they're met by the windows that look out to a very busy sixth avenue. The “bright and cozy West Village apartment” I found on Airbnb looked deceivingly big in pictures, but was nothing short of a shoebox. But, if I wanted to live in New York, – rather than make an hour-long commute from Connecticut – this was the price I would have to pay.

I’ve been in this city for barely two days and my anxiety is already heightened. The nonstop flow of movement circulates up and down the avenues and across the streets. Fire trucks and ambulances fly by with their sirens blaring. I can't help but feel like a tiny grain of sand lost in a wide sea of commuters, residents, students, tourists...

My mind falls into a familiar daydream reminding me of how different my life was just a week ago. I spent the month of June living in London studying Contemporary Art at one of the most famous art institutes in the world. As eager as I was to start my internship in NYC, a part of me never really wanted to leave London. The time came to face my ultimate fear: change.

Let's backtrack to the beginning: My flight landed at JFK on a Wednesday, and I moved into my apartment that Friday. My thought process was simple—jump back into the groove of things as fast as possible, pretend I didn’t miss London and act like I loved this new city more than anything else. But oh, how I wish it were that simple.

Although I had been gone for just a month, I didn’t give myself any time to adjust to American culture, jet-lag, and of course, the withdrawals from British accents. I expected the transition to be effortless; one big city to another is no big deal, right? But instead I found myself confronted with frustration, exhaustion and apprehension.

I quickly realized that New York City has a type of energy unlike anything I had experienced before. Frustrated with constant crowds and smelly subway stations, I longed for the order and cleanliness of a city like London. I was stuck in a trap of comparison, exacerbating the negative feelings and diminishing the positive ones. In a city with over eight million people, I had never felt more alone.

After a few weeks of settling into my apartment and starting an internship at a small, non-profit art organization, I warmed up to the idea of being an honorary New Yorker. By no means did I enjoy the smell of pollution or getting shoved by people while walking down the street, but I did start to notice all of the opportunity surrounding me. The resources available, although different than those in London, were equally as valuable.

In an attempt to overcome my anxiety, I kept track of the things that terrified me in this city – could there be a trend? First and foremost, I realized that I am extremely bad with directions, and despite the simplicity of the grid system, I needed to explore for myself. While this process did involve several subway rides in the wrong direction, and many miles of walking around in circles, I started to improve my navigation skills.

After I actually knew where I was going and how to master public transportation, I started to see New York City as an island of unexplored territory; a place where I could get lost over and over again but discover something insanely cool and new all at the same time. My favorite pastime became taking evening strolls through some of the smaller neighborhoods in Manhattan, headphones in, with no destination in mind. I would sometimes walk for hours admiring the gorgeous brownstones in the West Village, or listening to jazz in Washington Square Park. The more time I  spent exploring by myself, the more I felt at home.

There came a point when I accepted the fact that New York City was nothing like London. A part of me was terrified of losing all of the wonderful memories I made in London, so I constantly compared them to the experiences I was having in this new city. I finally realized that in order to make the most of my summer in New York, I had to embrace it for what it is, with open arms and an open mind.

Though I had never felt more alone in my life, that feeling was the very thing that forced me to confront my insecurities and gain an incredible amount of independence. I learned how to rely on myself and no one else; how to make friends with strangers and step out of my comfort zone; how to care for myself while managing money, time and my well being. Most importantly, I learned how to make it work in a city that had terrified me for so long and embrace it for everything that it is.

And even though there were days that ended with aching feet and tears, there were plenty more days that ended with mouth-watering pizza and writing poetry in the park. I learned that even though my fear of change may follow me to the next new place I go, I can overcome it. I can choose to be challenged by the chaos, inspired by the lights and music, and empowered by my ability to embrace it.