from grouch to gratitude.
Since I was a young girl, I’ve always had this unexplainable fascination with New York City. I’m sure I can blame it on the countless times I watched Brown Sugar and lived vicariously through Sanaa Lathan’s glamorous life as a writer/editor, or maybe I can blame it on the fact that it’s the same place, my favorite friends, Khadijah, Synclaire, Maxine and Regine shared their Brooklyn brownstone. Either way, almost every show, movie or musician I admired over the span of my adolescence originated in New York City, making it inevitable to be drawn to its liveliness.
My desire to one day live a life there that mirrored all these fictional women never seemed to die the older I got. In fact, it only intensified. My heart constantly grew fonder for a city I had never seen in person and at times I believed I’d forever dream of it and never get to feel it, smell it, touch it, or experience it. I assumed, after calculating airfare and lounging costs for the last four years and always coming up short, that this place was just not written in the stars for me. If I couldn’t even visit how in the world was I supposed to live there?
Maybe my desperation did the trick, or my determination combined with encouragement from my therapist did. In all honesty, I’m certain that all three tagged team my assumption and obliterated it. The once unrequited love story New York City and I shared became no longer this past June. In celebration of my golden birthday, I was able to finally book a round trip flight and queen suite at Hotel Mela located in the heart of Times Square.
How I managed to pay for it all, upfront, out of my pocket, and without having to irresponsibly take out a loan is beyond me. I guess I could say that God heard my heart’s desires and the stars finally aligned. It was bound to happen someday though if you ask me. I had not only dreamed about this but talked about it as well. For almost three months prior to the trip, I spoke it into existence during therapy sessions.
I remember it clearly, a discussion on independence striking it up. I had stressed to my therapist that at my age, I still felt as if I wasn’t a real adult. I admitted that I had been comparing myself to peers from elementary and high school that I constantly saw on Facebook and Instagram. Whenever I’d see new posts about their lives I began to feel as if my lack of a relationship, kids, traveling, or even my own apartment took away from my adult experience. I felt stagnant in comparison to many and I began believing that because I wasn’t where I thought I’d be by 25/26 years old, even if I weren’t in a horrible place, I had failed.
As many times as I’ve read inspirational posts that stress the idea that we are all on different paths and the age we reach our ultimate goals doesn’t matter, I still thought otherwise. And I blamed it all on being an only child who was sheltered and always had help. Whether my mom, granny, or other family members, someone was always there to guide me, support me, practically hold my hand and act as a battery in my back. I can’t remember a time I ever had to do something completely by myself until I went off to college.
It took a lot, and I mean hour-long in-depth conversations, for me to realize that those weren’t bad things. I simply had an amazing mother and a loving tribe around me, something people would die for. I learned to accept the help and use it to my advantage for as long as I could, but the late bloomer part was still a pill I couldn’t seem to swallow.
Every typical milestone, outside of school, which most of us meet around the same age, I met a few years later. You name it and I can guarantee I was behind my peers in that race. That delay then lingered into my adulthood when I completed undergrad almost two years after my expected graduation date and now into my career which is slowly beginning to make a turn down the right path.
In some cases, this time thing is inevitable. Nothing flourishes as it should overnight and no matter how bad I may want it to. But of course, the Virgo Moon in me needed to take control of something and make it happen as we speak. The idea of traveling alone came about immediately but fear set in even quicker. I wasn’t used to going too much of anywhere without my mom or a friend, let alone to a city so far and ten times bigger than my own.
That’s when my therapist advised me to take baby steps. She advised me to start off wandering around Chicago by myself, that way I can become comfortable somewhere I’m used to first, and if I feel I’m ready, go to New York City solo. I wasn’t ready though, far from it. And at some point, I decided I’d rather cancel all of my plans if I couldn’t do them as I originally intended.
That’s just like me, to back down and give up immediately after something doesn’t pan out perfectly or rather unrealistically. It’s been a process to break this behavior pattern but my therapist has been showing me how to step back for a moment and get another perspective of the situation that may be at hand and in this case: invite someone else on this trip but take a day or whatever time span I’m content with and spend it alone. That way there is a balance, comfort, and a sense of gratification knowing I stuck to my intention.
It was reasonable and alleviated that failure I allowed myself to sink deeper and deeper into.
So I went on and finally booked that queen suite at Hotel Mela and my mom and I’s roundtrip flight. Until a light bulb went off in my head as I prearranged every day of our trip down to the t, paid for tickets to shows and events. I realized I had been practicing independence all along.
For one, I held myself accountable as any adult should and not only took it upon myself to seek therapy for my mental health but to check off two other boxes on my lifelong to-do list. That being, making one of my wildest dreams come true while simultaneously sharing it with my mother as a way to pay her back for all that she has done for me.
Every single place we went during that week in New York City, I had moments where I’d stop to snap photos and just absorb my reality. While on the Brooklyn Bridge, after my mom and I struggled to make it across in the scorching heat and sea of bodies, it made my heart ache with joy to see her smile. A genuine smile curved her lips as she took in the view of the downtown area or even when we visited the Color Factory. It was the first time in a long time that she let her hair down and laughed. She cracked jokes and that stern façade she holds on a daily had long faded. She was relaxing and being her goofy self. We were both living fully in every single moment, and in those moments I felt nothing but complete gratitude.
They gave me a chance to appreciate where I’ve come from and where I am now because just as one of my first affirmations for the week stated: in order to have an abundant life, you have to be grateful for what you have now and who you are now.
The task isn’t something that’s easy to do. It’s something I practice and fail at every single day, but that should be the case whenever we are learning something new.
I suggest to whoever comes across this post to exercise gratitude. Every day, in those moments when things seem bad, take a second and seek out the good. Acknowledge how they make you feel, meditate on that feeling and appreciate them. It will help you appreciate life as a whole and all of the possibilities that will follow those moments. It keeps me, a person fighting pessimistic thoughts every day, optimistic.
It’s safe to say that I thoroughly enjoyed New York City. It was everything I dreamed of and more, and planning the trip itself kindled a fire inside me that can’t be tamed. Until the time comes for me to leave my life in Chicago behind and expand to the east coast, I’ll simply enjoy the journey.
