Photo: Chelsea Francis via Unsplash
After all of that bedlam I decided dating wasn’t for me after all.
It wasn’t so much distracting, as it was simply the fact that I didn’t have much to give.
Yet for whatever reason, I was more present than I’ve been in my entire life. I think this happens when you begin doing things alone — dining solo, going to the corner bar to watch the basketball game, doodling in notebooks at the coffee shop.
I found myself chatting up the servers, the Uber drivers, fellow diners. I also made a point to see my friends more. It felt good. It felt healthy.
I was turning my heart towards the world after years of living in the mindset that it was the two of us against it.
I had nothing left to give but a ton of work to be invested in myself. Over Christmas break my best friend’s husband told me about a time, decades ago, when he was single and went through a similar situation.
“You learn a lot about yourself when it’s just you figuring out your place in the world,” he said.
Coincidentally enough, my opportunity arrived the next night on Christmas Eve.
It was in the form of an e-mail.
The subject line — “Ho, Ho, Ho.” It was a job offer, for a mobile app company run by a friend on the west coast. I was being called to San Francisco.
I had never been fond of the Bay area, particularly now after re-discovering my Manhattan legs.
Yet it was the perfect work opportunity. I felt passionate about the company and believed in its mission. I respected their leadership and felt that the role was a perfect fit.
It was also good timing.
After carefully considering the options I came to the conclusion that in New York, right now at least, there was nothing keeping me here.
There was the tiny sublet where I lived, which I loved for what it represented during a transitional time in my life. But it was tiny, it was old, and it was by no means a bargain.
There were my New York friends, who I’d make an effort to see a few times a year. There were my LA friends, who I’d see more often.
There was a guy I was shaking unrequited feelings for, who at the time of writing this may or may not come back into the picture. I wasn’t willing to stick around for that.
There was a city I loved even more — but could always return to eventually.
I couldn’t clearly picture my New York future. I imagined myself at a random desk at a random agency where I’d occasionally wonder what would’ve happened if I’d taken the leap. Perhaps I’d continue to tumble my way around Manhattan writing blog posts like this.
Or. I could leave. And begin a new chapter.
There was also an opportunity for emotional alchemy. I could turn anxiety into courage.
So why be afraid, when there’s nothing to lose?
Besides, when opportunity knocks I’ve learned — somewhat through conditional response — to always say yes.
There are times when it’s more important to know when to say no. Even HELL NO. This didn’t appear to be one of those situations.
I was ready to go for broke. By the way, this has happened before. It’s exactly what I thought was happening when I moved from Boston to Los Angeles, and then from Los Angeles to New York.
After I moved from Boston to Los Angeles I worked at various startups for nearly ten years, then moved to New York for what I thought, this time HAD to be, the ultimate GFB (go for broke) finale.
With each move you consider the worst case scenarios. What if the dream job doesn’t work out? What if my relationship falls apart?
And when things DO fall apart — and yes, they sometimes do — life definitely sucks for awhile.
And…you go on.
It all seems so dramatic and extreme at the time. In retrospect it needn’t be.
Your life will find a way to play out the way it’s supposed to. Although sometimes the big changes manifest themselves much more slowly than you wished they did, or in the way you had originally anticipated them to.
Immediately though, everything is put into perspective.
For me, I realized what always remained intact through change — my friends, my family, and my physical health. The core elements were all in place.
I learned not to sweat the small stuff. I learned that getting out of my comfort zone doesn’t have to be a terrifying experience. My friend’s husband was right — I learned a lot about my emotional self right away, and began to lean into the growing pains.
Life will give you what you need. Sometimes all you need is to get out of your own way.
Great things are revealed in time — and what are we to live for if not the turbulence of life?
Maybe I should take my own advice.
As I write this, I’m on a flight to San Francisco where I’ll stay for a week to work from my new office while looking for a place to live.
I think about the places and people I’ll be leaving behind later in the month when I fly out for good.
I consider the boxes waiting to be filled; both back at the sublet and deep within my heart.
I haven’t washed my hair in about two weeks. Yesterday, I showered twice in the morning because I forgot that I had the first time. I desperately need sleep but haven’t in days because I’m too concerned with the unknowns.
Where will I live? Will the move go ok? Am I going to be okay financially? Will I make friends? Will I find success in my job? Will I ever find love, knowing that sometimes the very best kind can be incomprehensibly inconvenient?
These experiences are inherently mine. This is the part I’m being offered to play in this world.
Growing pains and wrinkles and status-quo all be damned.
The chapters end and new ones begin, enabling the story to continuously unfold. It’s never-ending (let’s hope so because I don’t have health insurance)…not because it’s cool or because there’s a sense of freedom involved, but because life is unpredictable anyway and well shit, sometimes you really need to take that leap of faith.
Sometimes you just gotta go for broke.