It started six months ago. Actually, two years ago. I applied to a position at Bon Appetit, hoping (somehow) I could get an interview. I never heard back, dusted the idea out of my head, and kept along with my life.
Six months after that I received an offer at my dream company in LA and truly believed the stars had aligned for me to come on board. I was so happy. Content. Satisfied. New York was still there—looming in the back of my mind—but I disregarded it, knowing I wanted to invest in the company I had just started working for. However, not a day went by I didn’t creep someone’s Instagram who lived in New York, google “best places to live in NYC”, or search flight prices.
I finally made it out there in November of 2014 and I felt as if the universe had created some spectacle for me. Everything was wonderful. Somehow, many close friends were visiting at the same time. I had my first cupcake at Magnolia Bakery and had drinks at 11:30p at night. I felt like a true New Yorker.
I left that trip completely refreshed. I came back to work, glowing. Everyone said I was beaming with excitement. I knew it, too. I wanted New York so badly, I could feel it inside my bones. I told my mom I wanted to move by January. I didn’t wanna wait any longer than I thought I needed to. But days turned into months and before I knew it, I was flying out for interviews in February. It was as if my head was making decisions without my brain fully processing what was happening- then my body was walking towards this dream that I hadn’t fully grasped entirely.
March was full of stressful events, but things that pointed me towards this dream. My car needed more work than it was worth, so I sold it. My sister was in Europe and let me borrow her car. I found an apartment (near central park!) with three amazing dudes, I started selling my furniture. Slowly, everything was falling into place.
One weekend I had a garage sale. Another I shipped boxes to my new house. Another, I sold my bed. Everything was happening. These decisions were happening and I felt like my brain was saying “wait! I am still running behind here! Let me catch up!”
I knew though, all I had to do was say "Yes". I had already said Yes to New York multiple times, but since it happened in stages, I hadn’t realized it. It seemed so far away. I wanted it badly, I felt as if I was in some sort of limbo—waiting for my next steps—but not rushing what I had presently. The months passed on and before I knew it, my apartment was cleaned out, my bed was sold, and I was living out of a suitcase.
I move to New York in eleven hours. I’m incredibly grateful for this life, for this journey. Life is so beautiful, so forceful and strong. I know LA will be here when (or if) I come back. It might be different, but what’s most beautiful and bittersweet is how progressive life is. Nothing stays the same. I find such comfort in that.
Here's to cherishing the good; clinging on so tightly you're not sure what else to do. And here's to receiving life with open hands, saying "I'm open and ready to new experiences, places, and people."