A funny thing happens when you pick up and move to a new city. Or should I say a lot of funny things.
Moving at any part of your life is intimidating, it’s scary, overwhelming but typically symbolizes some sort of new chapter. There is nothing quite like that feeling knowing everything is about to change. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve moved before but just 90 miles up I-55. Never across the country, to a city that I had nothing more than job offer and a suitcase or 3. In my own experience this time around I stood somewhere between terrified and blissfully optimistic. At some point though, through all the planning you just take the jump. And so here I am, 22 years old and living in New York City.
To say I always knew I’d move here would just be naïve. Overtime I slowly realized all of my planning; preparation and sometime serious OCD over my dreams could never overpower the speed of life. If this new chapter has taught me anything yet, it’s to roll with the punches. Although I won’t bore you with the number of times things have not gone according to plan, I will say it’s been one hell of ride so far.
After a month of commuting, apartment hunting, and late (and I mean late) nights, I am finally home. I’ve settled into a cozy (AKA tiny) apartment on the Upper West Side with a roommate who appreciates a cheap bottle of wine and hunting down the insanely cute dogs in our building as much as I do. Started a position at one of the world’s largest publishers of monthly magazines. Met amazing friends at work who make late nights at the office bearable and even later nights on the town unforgettable. And one of the sweetest parts of all is knowing that I did it, me. Now don’t get me wrong, my dads phone has been ringing off the hook with questions such as how do I assemble a bedframe (that he so kindly pulled his Kayak on the side of the river to give me instructions via Facetime). But all in all I couldn’t have taken on this new chapter without the support and love from all my friends and family.
So on that note I need to take a second to say thank you. To my parents for their unconditional love and constant advice. You are my rock and I would be nothing without you. To my brother who calls me consistently and never fails to make me laugh. To my second family the Schroder’s, for opening up their home to me and making me feel like apart of the family while I searched for an apartment. To my best gal Eric who answers every Facetime call and keeps me grounded. And to New York for embracing me as an official New Yorker (whatever that means).
Here’s to writing about figuring out life working a new job, in a new apartment all while living in New York City!