Sometimes darkness comes in the form of exhaustion, insomnia and small spaces with low lighting. It comes with being surrounded by thousands daily on your commute and feeling the most alone you've felt in such a long time.
Small amounts of darkness that trickle through mostly well lit areas. Causing the fear that past depression experiences will take over the transition I am currently in.
I wait. I am strong. I have family, friends, and support. I am loved, missed and wanted. I am appreciated. I am grateful. I am humbled.
Anxiety, depression, and darkness does not care for gratitude. It thrives on those little chemical thoughts of fear and the lowest part of the struggle. It is the back and forth of guilt and shame. It’s the back and forth of figuring out the difference between the two and thinking I ‘should’ know.
It’s the knowing that I ‘shouldn't’ use the word ‘should.’
It’s the comparison that kills the creative sparks and joy in being a creative. It’s the realization that I am a cliché. It’s the realization that my lovely little cacti city and home did not prepare me for the culture shock of areas in my own country. It’s trying not to be #yesallmen over #metoo. I love you B.
“Woke” on the West Coast is certainly different from “woke” on the East Coast. Race. Religion. Gender. Sex. Diversity. I have so much more to learn.
Thoughts upon thoughts. Written down on morning pages. The guilt for not doing my morning pages everyday. Satisfaction for when they do get done. The shame over not using the tools I know that I know how to utilize. Gratefulness for when I do use them.
Not good enough. Not authentic enough. Not talented enough. Not woke enough. Not Eco-Friendly enough. Not Mexican enough. Not white enough. Not Political enough. Not active enough.
Morningside in West Harlem is a gorgeous place to live. Lower East Side is a fun ass place to work. Trains ‘D’ & ‘A’ are the quickest. The ‘1′ train is safer after 2am but takes longer. Did you know pepper spray can only be bought in the city with a license? You can not ship mace to NYC.
I’m currently on that New York Diet: A third floor walk up, walking commutes, bagel & Lox... oh and coffee. Lots of coffee. No one said it was a healthy diet.
Pizza rat. It’s a thing. Summer in the subway is truly hell but City Mappers is a god send. Reading on the train helps avoid eye contact with unwanted interactions while also giving time to finally finishing a book for once. “Fuck Politeness!”-MFM.
Sharing a Lyft with a stranger saves you money and can be the most quiet commute of your life. Brooklyn is the hip and artsy place to be. Gentrification. It’s a thing-Harlem is “Up and Coming.” Astoria is the safest. Chelsea for the galleries. High Art vs. Low Art. Avoid Time Square in every way possible. A jog in central park. Thoughts of Korey Wise, Kevin Richardson, Antron McCray, Yusef Salaam, and Raymond Santana. Thoughts of Trisha Meili. Thoughts of those who've jogged these paths before me and the history I have yet to know.
New York based sitcoms and shows are relatable AF but will never truly capture the heart and soul of the city. AND, one hundred percent, won't tell you the truth about New York apartments and boroughs... Hannah Horvath lied to us all millennial non-New Yorkers. Hashtag white privilege.
I think Abbi and Ilana speak the closest truth. Maybe. Yass Kweeeen!
I’d be down for a more diverse New Yorker show... Just sayin.’
I’d be down for more diverse shows in general... Also, just sayin’
Beauty. Essex. Delancey. F,M, and J Trains. Champagne brunch. Live saxophones. Go-go dancers. “Any Allergies or any dietary restrictions?” Darwinism? L.E.S. (That's short for Lower East Side-New Yorkers love their acronyms.) “Put a pep in your fucking step!” Being in the weeds at a top restaurant in NYC is no where near being in the weeds at a mom and pop. Family meal is questionable today. And tomorrow.
“Ryan, are you like my ‘Simone?’” The book Sweet Bitter is relatable in more ways than one. I love my day job. Grateful for sobriety. Grateful for Sobriety in L.E.S. My younger self in NYC would have been a shit show. I was a shit show. There are other people in NYC that are sober! Who’d-a thought! P.S. Sobriety doesn't mean greens are off the table. Why isn't it legal here yet? Progressive much, New York? I love sleep.
Dog walkers are honestly, truly the best sight to see. My heart. It grows. Every time.
“You work hard for the American dream?”
Far Rockaway Beach isn’t really that far. Take the ‘A’ for a quick getaway. "You’re from Jersey City?” Googles: “Where is Jersey City?” Amtrak gets you to New Hampshire in five hours. A five hour work day on the train is sometimes better than two hours in some coffee shops in Manhattan. NH is beautiful in the summer. Cooler. In-person friendship is beautiful for the soul. Ponds are the size of lakes. I’m from the desert, how am I suppose to know the difference? New England is patriotic As Fuck. Can’t wait to see the fall foliage. Apparently it is definitely a thing.
Note to self: A quick trip out of the city is required for mental hygiene. A dose of nature, occasional hugs, and laughter is highly recommended for future survival in the concrete jungle.
My ducks are in a row. My planner is filling up with hope. My hustle is real. Society of Illustrators hasn't changed since my visit in 2015. My personal projects are visualizing, slowly but surely. Asana and Ink & Volt keep me organized. Being vulnerable has helped me start connecting. Connections help motivate. Motivation keeps me creating. But, like, also... Sometimes you just gotta fucking do it.
Naive at thirty-three. The city has made me see how young I must seem to others. My reactions and the way I think. The experiences I thought gave me a proper age have proven that I still have more to explore. I feel nerdy. I feel out of place. I feel like an outsider. I feel young. I feel like I don’t belong. Sometimes. And then I do. Then I feel at home.
“Because true belonging only happens when we present our authentic, imperfect selves to the world, our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance.” -Brené Brown
In the moment of loss, I found the way to find self-acceptance, again. It’s a journey. Didn’t they tell you? Transitions are funny that way. They question who you are and why this change was so important even when you thought you already knew all the answers.
Cacti, Love and Gratitude.
Therapy. “Scheduling before shit hits the fan?” Woah, that sounds way too healthy. “But, you’re right. Wednesday session, three weeks from now?”
I have a day job. I have a roof over my head. I have reactivated the reason I travelled across country to be in a city that tells it like it is and has a lot of rats to race. It’s gonna be almost three months. Apparently, I am right on schedule.
The little light I do have that seeps through the one window in my closet sized room that faces another wall, surprisingly, now gives me hope. This first New Yorker’s apartment with four other roommates has finally shown it’s charm. Or maybe I have lightened up to see what charm it had all along.
“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path.” -Brené Brown
