The Middle

I booked a one way ticket to New York City on April 13. I was on that plane on May 1. 

Sometimes, we make decisions quickly. Not because we haven't weighed pros or cons, but because timing is right. It's simply time to move on. 

Moving to New York was one of the scariest decisions I have ever made. When people asked me if I had visited here before when I told them where I was moving, I would literally gauge who I was talking to, then adjust my answer accordingly. Were they someone I could be open and honest with? Would they laugh in my face if I told them the reality of the situation? The truth? I had never set foot in this city until I got off the plane at LaGuardia. 

I have, admittedly, been engulfed in a potent wave of fear since I arrived. More often than not, when I consistently hear sirens outside my room at all hours and tourists are everywhere and I think of how I threw myself into the center of Manhattan, I wonder what in the hell I just did. I have lived in New York for almost two weeks and I have had a panic attack at least eight of those twelve days. The first two days I was here, I wouldn't go outside alone without my roommate or a friend. There's this episode of Girls where Lena Dunham's character looks at herself in a mirror and says repeatedly, "you are fine and good, you are fine and good..." I literally did this. The second night I lived here, I did a promo event at one of the city's largest nightclubs. In the middle of this event, I felt this heinous wave of panic. I held my shit together, walked to the bathroom with a shiny smile on my face, went into a stall in the bathroom, placed a hand on the wall, one hand on my hip, and said, "you are fine and good, you are fine and good." I did not believe what people said about moving to big cities until I moved to a big city. It is lonely and terrifying at absolute best. 

And, some days, you'll feel like you have everything figured out. The fifth day I was here, I had my audition for a fitness instructor position I've secured in the city. I felt so good after it that I walked out into the New York sunshine after days of rain and thought, "today, I will ride the subway alone." I marched confidently over to the subway, hopped on quickly, and made it with zero mistakes back to my apartment. I felt so proud of myself. A year ago I felt proud because I was doing public speaking gigs on the topic of sexual assault education and prevention. Today, I feel proud because I wake up everyday and get out of bed. Phases of life are hilarious in that way. 

New York is funny because what I have quickly learned is that the moment you think you have remotely anything "figured out,” this place will immediately drop you on your ass. Ya know, to bring you back to reality in case you forgot where you were. On day seven of living here, a college friend of mine and I decided to meet up and hang out in Central Park for a bit. I told her I would meet her at her office, which is conveniently (read: horrifyingly) located in Times Square. I thought to myself that I wouldn't take the subway because A) it was a beautiful day and B) I needed to get some steps in. I began my trek through Times Square, which is, without a shadow of a doubt, something I have no plans to do soon unless I feel like flinging myself into a state of total hysteria again. I remember arriving to her office and thinking, "okay, whew, you did that. Now let's never do that again." I should preface by saying: this day had been a good one. I had gone to a coffee shop, got a decent amount of work done, and was feeling really good about the next steps in my training process for work. My friend and I continued through Central Park, had a lovely time catching up, and decided to head to the Lower East Side for a cocktail. We found a little pub to sit at, and about thirty minutes in, I had this intense pain in my mid-back. This pain was foreign; it was unnerving and made me reach an entirely new level of anxious. We quickly paid the bill, I snagged a Lyft, and I began to head home with my mom on the phone. I knew exactly what was happening here. Intuitively and innately, I knew this pain was not actually pertaining to any physical ailment or illness. It was anxiety. Point blank. And I had been here before. In fact, I had been here more often than not in the last six months. 

I decide to head to a new friend's place because the mere thought of being alone made me even more anxious. Upon arrival, she greeted me with food and water. This friend and I began talking about our lives and about fear and general life occurrences that had led us to where we are now. Somehow, we got on the topic of mass shootings and violence in our world. I told her how, for most of my college career, I spent it never sitting in the center of movie theaters or classrooms because I had a chronic fear of being involved in a shooting and having no escape route. In this conversation about fear, she said something that, for some reason, stopped me in my tracks. She said, “but one day you will. One day, you will sit in the middle. And you’ll eat your popcorn and not think twice about it.”

Fear, for me, is kind of like the middle aisle of a movie theater. Some of us really don’t want to go there. But someday, maybe willingly or unwillingly, we will. In fact, it’s often hard to avoid. But we won’t think anything of it. In a lot of ways, the middle aisle at the movie theater was also like New York for me — both invoke a sense of fear I cannot describe. But fear is helpful because it gives us information. And if we are brave enough to explore fear, there is always, always a gift within it. This bravery, this courage to explore what frightens us, it’s what affords us the opportunity to pinpoint exact moments when we became ourselves. The fear is always there, waiting — the job in this life is to keep moving regardless of that fear. 

I feel afraid most of the time. But, I keep moving. And more than anything else so far in this life, that is what I am proudest of. 

One day, I will sit in the middle.