The Painful Transition from Washingtonian to New Yorker

I was warned that my first year in New York would be the hardest, that you never fully understand the toll of the city until you're there. That subtly little things like navigating the subways and pushing through crowds, the cacophony of never ending construction or horn honking, the fast pace and short patience of real New Yorkers build and build until suddenly you're sitting on a park bench in Central Park crying because you're lost and can't find your way out. From what I have heard, witnessed, and experienced first hand this is not a unique experience. No matter how much you adore the city, you can spend your entire first year doubting whether or not you belong here.

I personally have been obsessed with the glamour and promise New York capitalizes on since I was small. I knew it was going to be where I ended up, the Chrysler Building quickly becoming my shining beacon of hope. And yet, the second I stepped out of my taxi from JFK I hit the pavement as hard if not harder than any other transplant. This was not the city I knew and loved, mainly because I couldn't spend all day on Fifth Avenue and every night on Broadway. I had a job to do, and some days it's beautiful but some days it can be terribly ugly. 

Now, when people ask me about living in New York, I am very honest. I always say "It will give you your best days, and it will give you some of your worst." People here don't spend days just going through the motions, there's no gray area. So everyday you are brave enough to take a step out of your apartment, you better accept whatever that day will throw at you. But have faith because it's thrilling, you will never be the same person you were leaving your apartment this morning, and you certainly don't know who you will be climbing those five flights of stairs tomorrow.

I did my time. I celebrated my anniversary on August 7th this year. I have passed silly, cliched New Yorker qualifications like giving directions to a tourist without looking at my phone, openly crying in public, jumping a turn style, eating food out of a food truck, navigating the subway system without a map, cussing out a cab driver, and falling asleep in a variety of places that are not home. But I don't consider myself a New Yorker, unfortunately my roots back home were far too strong. I do however, feel like I belong here now. Despite pangs of homesickness or the (not so) occasional lonely day, I live here, work here, learn here and love here and New York City is now my home.

Yet, what people didn't warn me about was the pain associated with the second year. Yes, the wound has healed but the stitches must be removed. Suddenly I have started to experience the painful process of losing pieces of Washington I was still attached to.  It started with mundane yet impactful moments like the day my Washington driver's license was confiscated to be replaced by a shiny, flimsy New York State one. But it feels as if the universe is cutting the threads of anything pulling me back home to ensure that I stay here. It's bittersweet really, because it suggests that I have purpose, but it still hurts a little more everyday. Suddenly one by one relationships change and love ones disappear from your life, but it's alright because the city will give you new ones. Suddenly news from back home will break your heart and New York will be the one to restore your hope, and suddenly ideals you have had your entire life will be shattered and you'll have to look to the city lights for advice. Everyday a new cut with a new Bloomberg bandaid. I think this is the real process of becoming a New Yorker, when the city starts fixing you instead of breaking you.

I have shed more tears on this tiny island than probably anywhere in the world. But this city has also given me unrelenting hope and happiness. 

To those of you brave enough to make the move or who are stumbling through the transition now:
Even on those worst days you're in the best city in the world, and I promise every time you try to turn your back on New York it will put something so amazing in front of you that you'll have to turn around. I swear it will make you stronger than you ever thought possible and you will never be bored. And every time your old home makes you cry, Manhattan will find a hundred little ways to make you smile.

This city is something special, but everything worth it takes work. As important pieces of you are painfully chipped away you have to be brave and open enough to let them be replaced with something equally beautiful. Between the thrills and passion, good days and bad, even the tears and laughter, I am always incredibly thankful for my transition.

Love always,
M